Think of something so familiar that when you pay attention to it, it feels strange. Sneha Khanwalkar’s compositions for are authentic, original, seminal even, especially true to the root of that word, and yet on a first hearing they are intimately known. And on a closer listen, they emulsify into an already adored lilt shaken with a saucy, succulent tilt.
The promo plays the obvious jingle, I Am A Hunter, with its single jejune pun on gun. But the tap-swoosh of Vedesh Sookoo’s reggae fun would have been limp without the hard knock beginning, a yokel yodel of “high-low, hey-lo, hai-law”. Lionel Richie just lost his subcontinental stranglehold on how to say hello. Mixed with mostly English lyrics, the Bihari bits, “Daily goli nikle, automatic, tun, tun” shouted or twanged rather than sung, have meaty beats, and yes, the penis jokes keep suggesting themselves. In a graveyard of Bollywood mashups where the spectre of imagination is scared to loom, this short import from Trinidad & Tobago mated with a plainspeaking Patna lives and thrives.
With all its frequent, obvious, drilled-in allusions to sex, the songs of Wasseypur are the antithesis of porn. Porn as a failure of the imagination, with its agglomerated anatomical moving parts in repetitive, mechanical detail is somewhat like pop. It’s