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Indian Express

Why are we still listening to Himesh Reshammiya?

Composer-turned-singer-turned-actor-turned-meme, Himesh Reshammiya, in that order, is back. This time as a rockstar. Going by the excitement around his recent Cap Mania tour (the organisers had to add a second show in Delhi) and community singalongs during his recently sold-out stadium shows in Mumbai, Delhi and Chennai, literally inspired by the cap he began wearing due to hair loss, one thing is clear: there is a market for everything if you put the right spin to it. Add a giant cap hydraulically lifted up, a bright red stage, lots of confetti, laser lights, pyrotechnics and a click on the rewind button to the 2000s — Reshammiya's peak years and when a lot of the music was overproduced, catchy and therefore, accessible — it's a recipe for frenzy. Millennials and their parents are converging in droves. Not because the songs with some of the most absurd lyrics (Tera pyaar hookah bar (Khiladi 786), Tandoori nights (Karzzzz), Ice-cream khaungi (The Xpose) and some of the more respectable ones, like Aashiq banaaya aapne, Tere naam and Teri yaad saath hai (Namaste London), have travelled well and greyed. They are coming because they themselves have. And, perhaps, had no idea that they longed for these reminders of heartbreaks, of college canteen mimicry sessions, the first introduction to Deepika Padukone in Naam hai tera, in their current lives, which come with expendable income meeting this need for raw, unadulterated entertainment. The nasal twang, the cap and the floor-touching trench coats in the humid weather of Mumbai, Delhi and Chennai of the 'Jai mata di, let's rock' spouting guy we once mocked, are all acceptable now and part of a shared experience with friends and family. It is unrefined, and this, in today's terms, not pretentious territory. What if it is sloppy? People in Delhi are leaving judgment at home and gyrating to Hookah bar like it is 2005. And it's a cultural phenomenon worth noticing. Reshammiya has likely hired some smart branding and PR teams to make this so-bad-it's-stuck music marketable at a time when there is no dearth of good music. Looks like these corporate honchos have nailed the cap to the head: they have figured that in the nostalgia-fed space that is run by Insta reels, Reshammiya fits in nice and easy. His self-deprecating humour: 'Naak se gaun kya? (Should I sing in my nasal voice?),' he asked in Mumbai, was a one-of-a-kind feat. In an industry where people guard their public persona with such care, Reshammiya's self-parody is making him relevant to Gen Z. A post shared by Himesh Reshammiya (@realhimesh) How did this happen? In one year, how did we start with Diljeet Dosanjh, go to Bryan Adams, to Coldplay and Guns N Roses, and then to waving phone flashlights at Himesh Reshammiya? Barring some of his fun compositions sung by other singers, most of this music isn't innovative. What Reshammiya has been calling '50 hits in a row' in his recent interviews — and, yes, quite a few were commercially successful — were just earworms that once quarried into our brains and became guilty pleasures. There is certainly enough help from the idea of FOMO — a thriving live-music industry in a spiral mode — where newness is the currency. Add to it, the need to find an echo to something familiar, even if it is lousy. That it is somewhat cringe is half the fun. And that Reshammiya is earnest in presenting it all in the same old style, is bringing people in. Pair this with a brilliant band and live dancers and fire stunts and you have a winner. The evolution of Reshammiya is an interesting story. Born and raised in a Gujarati family, he is the son of composer Vipin Reshammiya, who gave his son the early exposure to music by taking him for recording sessions at the age of 14. Reshammiya began his career with TV show title tracks and debuted with the Salman Khan-starrer Pyaar Kiya Toh Darna Kya (1998). In those years, he was constantly composing, building a stockpile of tunes and presenting them to producers. Which is also why he could do so much music at a given time. This was very different from other composers who created tunes according to the situation and brief for a particular film. Reshammiya's music was, at least for the initial few years, all about taking the pick. He composed for films like Dil Maange More (2004); Tere Naam (2003); Aashiq Banaya Aapne (2005); Humraaz (2002); Aitraaz (2004); Hello Brother (1999), followed by his superhit album Aapka Suroor (2006). It was, at best, mediocre. It worked. Also Read | Himesh Reshammiya is having a moment again — and honestly, it's glorious But as for the Himesh hysteria of the present and a title like 'Lord Himesh' floating around, let's be clear: This isn't any music revolution or a lesson in what is or isn't profound, as if Reshammiya missed out on his due then. Yes, his return, against good taste and all the odds, is working. But not because the music is crafty. It's because there is something sadly sweet about looping back to what we once knew, even if it was a cringe fest. Now that it is back like a spectacle, the theatre of the absurd has come with its own ways. And the audience is eager to indulge. Those singing in tune are wondering if they will be next.