The blues is a beguiling art form. Tangled up in this country\u2019s legacy of slavery and oppression it is first and foremost a folk tradition. It requires no formal training to play and can be sung without instrumental accompaniment. And yet, its simplicity often obscures its power and scope.<\/p>\n
Though it is most certainly a uniquely American art form, it is also a universal language. It lies at the root of rock & roll and African highlife music. It informed the psychedelic guitar work of Black Sabbath\u2019s Tony Iommi, as well as the off-top lyrical freestyling of hip-hop. And though he didn\u2019t realize it until much later in his life, the music that first grew out of the muggy American South has always been with Aki Kumar\u2014even when he was a child, listening to Bollywood tunes in his native India.<\/p>\n
Kumar has come a long way since those days\u2014geographically and otherwise. He now lives in San Jose with his wife, Rachel. The couple own a home together in Cambrian Park and spend their days like many couples do, with one exception: while she goes off to work at her job in the tech sector, Kumar stays home, or else heads off to meet up with his band. At night, after Rachel comes home from work, Kumar goes club-hopping.<\/p>\n
He\u2019s no deadbeat. It\u2019s not the drink or women he\u2019s interested in. His vice is the blues.<\/p>\n
Kumar regularly hosts jam sessions at a variety of bars around Silicon Valley; he also plays harmonica and sings at the helm of his very own band. They\u2019ve recently garnered accolades from local and national media outlets on the heels of the 2016 release Aki Goes to Bollywood\u2014an innovative melding of blues and contemporary Indian pop.<\/p>\n
Kumar was profiled by the San Francisco Chronicle in late September, in advance of his appearance at the annual Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival in Golden Gate Park, and he even grabbed the attention of \u201cThe World,\u201d a syndicated Public Radio International program that airs on local NPR affiliate KQED. And for good reason.<\/p>\n
Whether viewed through the prism of blues, world music or straightforward pop songwriting, Aki Goes to Bollywood is excellent. It is at once familiar and novel, traditional and experimental, lightheartedly fun and deeply soulful. And by some accounts it never should have worked out so well.<\/p>\n
Back to Bombay<\/p>\n
Sitting on a weather-beaten couch next to a old upright piano, we look out upon a long, straight drag of Union Avenue, not far from Good Samaritan Hospital and Leigh High School. Kumar is running late, delayed at a nearby restaurant where he and the rest of his band often enjoy spicy, tangy, slow-cooked meats. It\u2019s not barbeque, as one might expect. These bluesmen enjoy the Indian cuisine prepared at the nearby Rangoli restaurant.<\/p>\n
Striding up to the porch, Kumar is dressed in all black, his eyes hidden behind wayfarer sunglasses, his hair slicked to the side. A simple gold chain hangs around his neck, encircling the collar of his shirt\u2014a bit of flash in an otherwise understated outfit.<\/p>\n
He greets us\u2014the sound engineer and me\u2014and we enter the house. Crossing the threshold into what once served as a living room, we are surrounded by guitars, amplifiers and keyboards. In one corner there is a drum kit; next to that, another upright piano. In the kitchen, in the space where a dinner table ought to be, there is a grand piano. An already narrow hallway has been further constricted by stacks of vintage amps and speaker cabinets. Squeezing past these dusty rock & roll relics, we come to the garage, which is dominated not by a car or boxes of junk but a large soundboard. On the living room side, a hole has been punched through the wall and a Plexiglass window installed.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis place is the epicenter for all blues coming out of Northern California,\u201d Kumar says, eyeing the myriad album covers tacked to the walls. It\u2019s called Greaseland Studios.<\/p>\n