There are many references to drifting in a soundtrack of Udta Punjab.
It’s usually fitting, given that a pretension has one too, and that a film chronicles a threat of drugs in Punjab. However, a soundtrack’s unashamed description of a drug high is roughly kaleidoscopic, and also unequivocally brave.
If we listen to all a 7 songs in one sitting — right from a get go, compartment a unequivocally final kick — you’ll feel like you’re on something. The primary reason for that is a capricious wavelength of a soundtrack. There’s sass, trippy beats, occasionally hooks, hummable choruses, some apparent peaks of musical enjoyment and some low-lying soothers. The soundtrack has a metaphorical ADHD, and nonetheless it totally sucks we in.
Let’s start with a sassiest, grungiest of a lot, ‘Chitta Ve’. ‘Chitta’ is a common nickname for heroin in a region. The tender peculiarity of punjabi vocals has been defended yet an with an electronic boost it gives a identical amplifying feeling that being high (probably) would. Chitta Ve is a good announcement for a film’s pretension track.
Kanika Kapoor’s ‘Da Da Dasse’ is surprisingly catchy. You’ll substantially remember Kapoor’s voice from ‘Chittiyan Kalaiyaan’ and ‘Babydoll’. In ‘Da Da Dasse‘ she leaves behind that apparent delicate voice and gives us a lot of personality, with absolute vocals. Reminds me of what Amit Trivedi did with Shilpa Rao’s voice in Dev D’s Dhol Yaara Dhol. Both songs ride we to Punjab instantly.
‘Ik Kudi‘ has dual versions on a album; a balmy ballad by Shahid Mallya, and a some-more insinuate versions full with delayed electric guitars by Diljit Dosanjh. Mallya’s version, as musical as it is, is a tad forgettable in this manuscript of courtesy grabbers, however Dosanjh’s chronicle has a lot of style, inspite of a gait being a same.
Ud-daa Punjab is accurately a kind of strain that we wish to play during a celebration when you’re longing a meaty, Punjabi song. It’s no DJ Wale Babu, but it creates all a right noises. It has a head-tapping hook, affective vocals by Amit Trivedi and a swag-filled swat by Vishal Dadlani. A turn of acclaim for Varun Grover for lyrics that mishandle a standard Punjabi song’s sexist overtones, and still maintaining a essence.
You’ll substantially still wish to hear Dj Wale Babu after a integrate of jaiger shots, yet in an swap universe, we can imagine Ud-daa Punjab kicking Badshah out of a picture.
With each drug trip, there’s a high and there’s a low. Hass Nach le celebrates that low. The strain is diffuse with instruments like a harmonium and a flute. Vadiya is substantially one of a some-more repeated songs in a album, even yet a unequivocally familiar one. It reminds we a lot of some of a tools in a song of Queen, also given by Trivedi.
But here’s a thing, even a lows and repitition in Udta Punjab‘s soundtrack are a lot improved than a normal stuff we hear in Bollywood these days. Is this manuscript improved than Amit Trivedi’s progressing work in Fitoor this year? Maybe not. Fitoor’s music is unequivocally heated and personal, it can click unequivocally good with some people (like yours truly) and it can divide some.
Udta Punjab‘s music, however, has a ideal brew of personal and commerical. And that has always been Amit Trivedi’s forte: bargain a tinge of a film for that he is providing a music. In that sense, Udta Punjab feels like a 30 notation prolonged high, it creates we deliriously happy in parts, unequivocally sucks we into the rhythms and afterwards leaves we with a slow clarity of drowning into something.