Senti Toy’s debut album ‘how many stories do you read on my face?’ is playing on John McLaughlin’s stereo and he is swayed to comment, “This first recording of Senti Toy is one of the most refreshing recordings I have heard in many a year. The songs are ‘original’, something rarely heard these days and plus, very meaningful lyrics. Thank you Senti”…

 
And then BBC radio plays a song off the album and the host Courtney Pine wishes aloud that Senti release her album in the UK…And then Senti’s album shows up on the Wall Street Journal’s A-list for the best of the best of 2007...And then NPR (National Public Radio) calls up Senti requesting an interview...And then the editor of Downbeat calls the label to find out just who Senti is…And then Coke picks Senti as an artist for a music podcast…and then…and then there’s more of the same kinda reaction coming in from all quarters. You could say that the songs on Senti Toy’s debut album are fanning ripples right around it.  

Senti who? FYI, Senti Toy is from India and in case you’re wondering how come you haven’t yet heard of her, well, this gap in communication has less to do with the fact that Senti hails from Nagaland in Northeast India and more to do with the fact that her 10 song debut album was released first in Japan on Intoxicate in 2006 and then a year later on Circular Moves in the USA. The apparent anonymity got some to do too with the fact that she now lives in New York City, but a helluva lot more to do with the fact that Senti does nothing to make public her album.  

“Promotions? Eeesh…I didn't even get to finish (the album) properly”, she says laughing. Does Senti not care that her cd…sells? “Of course it would be great.  But if it means my having to pay attention to marketing and promotion I’ll give it a pass. I don’t want to have anything to do with it besides making the music and performing it. I find it a drag that today artists are supposed to be able to do and think of all these things.  I simply cannot.  So I give it a pass.”

Both the labels her music’s out on apparently respect this clause in the contract if there is such a clause. But if Senti is shy of what you call self-promotion, she hardly shies away from self-expression. She communicates ‘how many stories do you read on my face?’ in an easy flowy way, words spare yet illustrative, and hearing her vocalize her poetry is like being in the same room as her, listening in as she puts lyric to lilt, telling a story like nothing you’ve heard before but familiar all at once. Senti’s spontaneous alto weaves in and out and away over warp and weft of acoustic guitars, bass, reeds, brass, percussions, drums and background vocals. Her stories throw light on the many facets that make her who she is, artist, friend, woman, lover, child, mother, sister, naga, how many are they? Who knew? In the song ‘because I am woman’ Senti demystifies all “…the look in my eyes hides my enigma…”

So, who really is Senti Toy? In a nutshell, Senti Toy is a recluse-type singer/songwriter, homemaker & music student completing her doctoral degree in Ethnomusicology from NYU where she has been awarded the Torch Prize and is now a McCracken fellow (basically phd. with free tuition and stipend for 5 years), who has also earned an award from the American Association of University Women and who, best of all, got a chance to record her debut album on her own terms. However, this album is now drawing more attention than she bargained for but, it is attention well deserved for more than telling of enigmas, Senti’s stories are real.  

      It’s a crispy cold December morning in Kohima but the sun is shining warmly on the backs of all here at the Hornbill Festival at Kisama. Senti is seated with the invitees on the main dais but you can hardly make her out on account of the sloping roof overhead that shades all ‘neath. When she steps down from there to meet me, she steps into bright sunlight and into a buzz of colorfully clad Naga peoples gathered here from all over the state, bedecked in such exotic tribal jewelry & finery it takes your breath away. Chants and folk songs and war cries rend the air. In the dance arena a troupe is dancing, the dancers’ ankles blurred in puffs of dust. Standing amid this colorful milling crowd Senti laughs and wonders how a clear recording of any of the chants and drumming and singing and dancing could be got, there is too much going on! Some boys are standing on one side, 7–10 year olds wearing loin cloths and beads and shaking kiddie-sized spears in their small hands, awaiting their turn to dance in the clearing, and the next thing, Senti’s happily chatting with them, sharing a giggle, throwing out a question at them. Wearing black jeans, black winter coat and black walking shoes, she is as unobtrusive as a professional, holding a palm-sized recorder in her hands, enjoying all this, taking it in, getting a feel of home again. 

And home, Kohima, is where it all began, as a child with a toy guitar. “I must’ve been 3 years old,” recalls Senti known as Aien to family. “I would sit myself down with that plastic guitar strumming it and singing gibberish for hours.” Her parents bought her big brother a real guitar and as he picked up stuff from his friends he would teach it to her, simple songs like “Country Road”, “Sunday Morning” etc.  After that it was the yearly singing competitions at Little Flower School. Senti recalls those days. “I would sit with the guitar for hours singing by myself with our pet cat Lesika as my die-hard fan listening intently every second of it. It was a magical time!”   

It was in her college days in Bombay when Senti got introduced to different genres of singing styles. “That was an exciting time for me. I started singing jazz standards in particular. It was during that time that Louis Banks ‘discovered’ me as he put it then, and I was on my way to singing jingles for tv, radio and film.” After passing out of 12^th from Sophia’s by receiving a gold medal no less, from the Maharashtra Board, Senti stayed on in Bombay, enrolling in a bachelors’ and then a masters’ course in Philosophy and sharing time between studies and singing at 4D studio in Century plaza. “I must have sung hundreds of jingles but I believe this was one of the important educational moments of my life musically,” she testifies. “I would be around some wonderful musicians every single day, from Louis himself to Roy Venkataraman and Karl Peters in particular among many others and sound engineers Rajiv Kenkre and Nakul Kamte. We would have endless discussions and conversations about music, philosophy and whatever else.  I dug being around them and to be treated as their little sister as we worked away in the studio everyday.” Senti reckons all this “prepared” her for life in the East village, New York City where she now lives. “I have rapturous moments listening to music here, and just being exposed to the sheer artistry and vision of the musicians I choose to hear,” she declares. “I am still discovering and exploring the rich environment that these inspiring musicians create. I’ve found myself in the company of musicians I look up to and respect and for this, I am very grateful. It’s when I got here that I really began to understand what it means to be sincere and truly dedicated to whatever art form you choose,” she says. And family & ethnomusicology studies at NYU “fit right in” somehow. “No doubt physically there is some ripping and running around at times,” she admits, “but it’s all good, couldn’t be a more perfect time.” 

But, it was the song ‘kohima’ written some seventeen years ago which led to the making of her debut album. Senti recounts, “This song came to me very quickly one evening in Bombay in a moment of deep anxiety and memory of my hometown Kohima, at a time when some shootings had just happened”. The song depicts hope amid the shattered peace of home, “…Kohima, is that a gunshot? Do I see bloodstains on my land…Kohima, tell me that old, old story, of the sweet simple way…you once knew…I see a rainbow…Kohima will shine tonight…”  

Soon after this, Senti made a trip home and when an opportunity arrived she sang ‘kohima’ at a local function. That was the first and the last time she sang it publicly. Fast forward 13 years. Senti’s brother from Kohima calls her in NYC and asks if she could record the song for him.  She sets out trying to hook up a microphone to the music system at home, finally gives up the idea and finds an engineer near her house in the east village who agrees to record this song for her in his living room. “I was glad I could get it and send it to my brother,” she says of that one-take that afternoon with her acoustic guitar. About three months later Senti gets a call from Dick Kondas the engineer, with news that he had a recording deal for her with ‘Intoxicate’ of Tower Records Japan, and that the executive was in town and, could she meet him? “He probably wasn’t expecting to see somebody that looked like me!” Senti laughs, but the executive was happy she met him, and a contract was only briefly discussed. Had it been another period in her life she says, she’d have not accepted the record deal. “I have always been somewhat averse to making an album and putting my music out there but this time, I was ready to take it on!”, the journey that the song ‘kohima’ led her as she describes it, “quite serendipitously and unexpectedly”, towards the recording of her debut album. ‘kohima’ on the cd, has been left untouched from that recording at the engineer’s house. 

Senti is delighted. “This album is a first experiment as it were. It has been a learning experience writing down parts etc. and figuring out arrangements and instrumentation etc. It has been a good learning experience as a producer too.” The album contains songs she mostly wrote without the help of her guitar or an instrument. “There was a time when I would just churn out song after song strumming my guitar. However, at some point, I decided to write songs without depending so much on the guitar. I felt like I was writing songs more out of habit.” And so she went through a phase when she did not feel like picking up her guitar, annoyed too by her own guitar playing limitations that further limited her creativity, or so she thought. “These came about with no album or recordings in mind,” she says of the songs that eventually made the cd. Songs she will tell you that were inspired at different moments. Take for example, the origins of the title track ‘how many stories do you read on my face?’ Senti remembers, “I was meeting a friend after many years and when we met, she looked at me and got a concerned look on her face and asked me if everything was alright and that my face didn’t look the same anymore…when I thought about it after I got back home I started humming and making up this song…how many stories do you read on my face, how many times has the sun risen and set…I’m pretty sure that’s how it happened!”  

Being home in Nagaland during the Hornbill Festival, Senti has but quite naturally been invited to be guest judge at the festival’s 4day rock contest. She speaks excitedly of the bands she’s heard from the region and recalls her meeting with kids who freestyle, laughing and describing a kid proudly wearing his arms in casts, broke freestyling. She’s met quite a few people, musicians, writers, poets, entrepreneurs, in just her first week home. Seeing her shaking hands with people at the festival, warm and friendly, Senti is obviously a gregarious person. And yet listen to her song ‘and then, and then’ where she’s singing “…I bask in my solitude, go on leave me alone…” and you begin to wonder. She explains, “There was a time when I found myself surrounded by friends, acquaintances who always seemed somehow restless and always needing to do something with other people to stay occupied. And I remember telling a friend that I actually bask in my solitude, does she too?  The beginnings of yet another song…and somewhere halfway through the song I picked up Rilke’s book ‘Letters To A Young Poet’ at a friend’s house and was pleasantly surprised and struck by his words ‘aloneness has become my home.’ It perfectly resonated with what I was trying to say in my song, that I found comfort and rejuvenation in solitude.” Perhaps it is the solitude rooted in the geography or genes? of Senti’s origins that kindles comfort within, for to the hills and valleys of the country’s easternmost regions in Nagaland is where she draws you again and again in song.  

The prelude to her song ‘the language I cry in’, is a folk song sung acappella in her native Changki language. “I learnt a few songs from an old uncle in the village. This one’s being sung to the sun by a girl from Changki who has been captured by an enemy village and death for her is imminent, (translated) “sun passing by, sun you are slipping away, sun as you slip away, should you pass by my village, should you see the one that bore me, tell her that her flower is blooming on the cliff of Mongsen village...’ I thought this was a beautiful prelude.” The song then bursts forth into instrumentations with Senti introducing herself “...urban waif in silk and pumas…” She laughs, “My professor at NYU once commented on my clothes and called me an ‘urban waif’ so it’s actually his picture of me! I thought that was funny.” Further on Senti describes herself more a “nomad of modernity, who knows to walk the walk…talk the talk” and yet “never separated from my person…never knowing why…when the sky swims in my eyes, I hear my mother’s song, I hear my father’s tale, and my name is Aien…the language I cry in, gives me away…” 

And then “more than the fingers on my hands” was written after Senti read some historical documents of 1874 recording derogatory remarks by an anthropologist on the “low intelligence” of Nagas saying they can’t count beyond their ten fingers. Shocked to read that, Senti initially was angry at what she terms “this misrepresentation and this lie” but when she thought about it some more she realized, “I felt more sympathy for the scholar and for all others which includes most of us, unfortunately, that feel so ensconced and content within our narrow parameters of thinking and so-called knowledge that it numbs us to anything outside these parameters, that there is no more room for discovery or other ways of thinking outside the box, no more room to investigate another dimension.” And so she sings, “…my mother cried out loud, she cried, the blindness that humanity can stand, the wrongs of the world, more than the fingers of my hands…” And here the young voice of Senti’s daughter (born & growing up in downtown Manhattan) is heard in the background counting rhythmically in Changki.  “I had fun having Nhumi and her friend Emma sing on the album,” Senti says of that experience. “I think they lent a special spark. I wrote a short Changki phrase for them to sing and they learnt to count in Changki, so it was educational as well for them. Good results all round!” Senti laughs. “My mother laughed out loud, she laughed, she had borne a dozen children, knew every tree by name, every star as her own…”  

And again ‘say a word’ reflects vibes from Nagaland and Africa in its simple sonic excursion. “Yes, it is written by me and Tony Cedras who is from South Africa.  My words are in Angami and Ao and I sing very much influenced by Naga traditional music in this piece.  Our folk melodies and sense of music is very similar to African music. Tony and I had no problems relating with each other musically and understanding each other’s sensibilities.” A musical bonding that also resulted in ‘berimbau’ written by Cedras. “These lyrics try to trace the story of the berimbau (brazlian name for the one-stringed folk instrument also found universally in many cultures) and its origins. “Once you’ve touched that sound, it will never let you go.” I think it’s a beautiful song and I asked Tony if I could sing it.”  

Then again Senti draws inspiration from her most self-assured place singing “I am a river that nourishes, I am the moon that bathes the earth, I am the sun that ripens the fruit…water sweet…moist earth…I am…” About this song ‘because I am woman’ Senti explains with a split-wide cheeky smile, “I think girls are way cooler than boys so I didn’t have to try too hard for this song, especially after the birth of my own daughter. I whole-heartedly believe in equal rights for women.  Women must have equal voice, equal representation, equal respect, equal opportunity in this world.  History has shown otherwise and we continue to see it and it has got to change.”  

And the key, Senti believes, is music. “Music can carry us forward and bring about change, inspire and enlighten. I definitely believe that music is very, very important in uplifting a people and in helping set a higher vision.  It’s such a powerful art form, a powerful medium, that it’s no wonder that even historically speaking, some of the world’s most notorious leaders/dictators, Hitler, Mao among many others strictly prescribed the music that would be permitted to be listened to, performed and created, so they could have tighter control over the people.” Having now lived outside the country for more than 16years Senti admits not having paid close attention to music in India. In the Northeast though she observes there are now many more opportunities for musicians to perform. “Rock music has sort of come out in a way. It used to be looked down on by parents, but now, rock music has been sort of legitimized and accepted for what it is. The biggest prize-money rock contest in the country is in Kohima (Hornbill National Rock Contest). I meet school kids on the street after rock performances at school. Western classical music has become accessible to most kids and so many more know to read and write music now. Musical literacy was something that was practically non-existent, this is not so anymore.”  

But of the change that music can bring about in the region, Senti speaks first of the change that music makers can bring about. “Here in Nagaland, I spoke to many young musicians about what their music meant for them.  They said it was their source of sanity, their reason to continue living, particularly having to live with unemployment and political tension, and it kept them out of trouble!”  In terms of comparing them to the kids in the US Senti has no doubts, opportunities there far outweigh those in Northeast India whether it is to find a good engineer, or a studio or the right tools/instruments. But she advises, “In the big picture I don’t think these are the make or break situations by any stretch of the imagination.  

“I think youth wherever they are have to hold on to their sense of imagination, because I think that is what is under threat for them in this globalized world of constant bombardment of corporate driven popularized music, food, clothes, what have you which is mostly not about quality and meaningfulness but about making a quick buck with no serious attention to substance and meaning or beauty.  This can only set us behind and bring change for the worse where ‘creativity’ is limited to making a buck and has nothing to do with art. This I believe is the biggest problem everywhere.”   

Having now walked around the festival venue, Senti takes a breather to observe the scene from the vantage point of the higher ground she now stands on, above the rest of the festival goers who of all ages are moving in waves this way, that way, in circles and loops up and down the stone pathways winding around the morungs on the hillside, smiling, greeting, meeting, lunching on smoked meat, sticky rice, fermented beans and drinking rice beer amid humming chatter and the clicking of beads and shells around necks and crowns. Tattoos of log drums ring out, alongside whoops of youth dancing in time wearing ripped jeans and gelled spikes while those bare feet continue to kick up dust in the arena with its exhibits of bobbing mohawks, flying beads galore, shaken spears and muscled brown butts behind flapping loin cloths. For Senti, a discourse on the matter of how music makers in the Northeast can bring about change is not to be considered lightly and so sipping her bottled water she dives right back in.  

“We have to find ways of keeping our imagination, innovation and creativity alive no matter what. That is the biggest strength, the biggest step to moving forward.  We have to learn to seek out books, art, music, films, dance, poetry, people, food, beauty, conversations that are meaningful, inspiring, that triggers and stimulates our minds and makes living worth every bit of it.” Senti believes artistic pursuit must be fueled by the desire to “learn, to create our own avenues with sheer force of will, faith and belief in what we do, create it for ourselves first of all without an audience in mind, without the idea of pleasing somebody but with the sheer drive of creating something that we enjoy, that means something important to us.  With this in place, opportunities will be in place too, for in doing that, we develop and create the best opportunities for ourselves in every manner of speaking. 

“Youth today in Nagaland and the Northeast want to find employment in music and some have been able to and continue to.  This is certainly a positive move, and I hope more avenues open up.  Many, I found out this time have released albums and are finding ways of putting out original music. I went around some cassette/cd/music shops here to ask if original music of local artists sold and how much – to my surprise the answer was in the negative. No, local artists’ cds did not budge from the shelves especially if they were western/English lyrics. A lot of questions came to mind. Are we just mere mimickers of the west that our own people can see through it and won’t accept us?  But we grew up on western music. That is music that is ‘native’ to us now. I certainly consider that as my strongest musical vocabulary as well, so…where’s the problem? I mean I can’t suddenly start singing traditional songs and force myself into this ‘genre’ of music for whatever reason.”  

Senti feels such thoughts resonate with many youth, at least in Nagaland. She herself experienced such a personal crisis around the time she was in Bombay. “I actually stopped writing songs and singing my songs for some years as I felt I had no voice of my own, that I had constantly been just mimicking, so what was the use anyway….that period was a tormenting moment of my life when I chose to be in silence.  I needed to find my voice, my music.  I am still looking for it, and I still have the same questions.  But I’ve learnt to realize that the beauty, the satisfaction is in the struggle, this journey of discovery. By no measure am I anywhere near success. I want to tell fellow artists here to keep on, no matter what we are all in this together.  Yes, it’s true we have made, or rather circumstances have necessitated that we make something western and what was alien, our own. And we seem to be neither here nor there in terms of acceptance as artists in the big picture, but, only we can change that.  Music that comes from the right place is too powerful to tolerate social conditioning and perceptions.” 

Ask Senti where her music and poetry springs from and she’ll tell you, “imagination, sanity, beauty.” For her, songwriting has always been a sort of an outlet, “something that pulls me together in a way.” Of the actual process she divulges, “sometimes it’s the words, sometimes it’s the music and sometimes both simultaneously. I can never quite anticipate how a song gets created.  For example, ‘you got breath’ started with the words. I saw a little boy and his father running up the staircase at a subway station in Brooklyn, and when we all got in the elevator, the little boy was gasping for breath and his father said ‘you got breath’ and gave him some water to drink.  I wasn’t sure what exactly he meant by “you got breath” but I just sensed this enormous affection and love from the father for his son and those words stayed with me and wouldn’t you know it, it became a song of love, “you got breath, that is my reason…” The melody sort of followed quite naturally. I do try to have both elements words and music, be equally strong. ‘when I dance’ on the other hand began with this interesting melody line that kept coming to my head that I thought I could dance to, in a strange way.  ‘kohima’ on the other hand came to me as a complete song, words and music beginning to end.” 

Of those who’ve helped shape her style musically they are, Senti claims, far too many to recount, but if she had to name some that come to mind right now? “I would say Stevie Wonder, Joni Mitchell, Bjork, Nina Simone, Abbey Lincoln, Chemical Brothers, Andrew Hill, Cecil Taylor, Carole King, Art Ensemble of Chicago, Amina Claudine Myers and, many more.” Senti also cites as a definite influence her husband Henry Threadgill, multi-instrumentalist & jazz composer and a leading light in music in her books. So what of Henry’s opinion on her album? She lights up, “Henry thinks it’s a very good album, he likes it! At first he could not stop playing ‘because I am woman’ over and over and over!  He’s over it now,” she confides eyes twinkling. And how does she feel about John McLaughlin’s comments on her songs? “Happy and lucky!” she admits. “In this environment of corporatization and aggressive marketing, somehow my music found its way to some listeners and critics who actually enjoyed it for what it is. I am happy to know that! I think that was very generous of John McLaughlin. Despite his brilliance and fame, he is a humble man with big wide-open ears and a very open mind.”   

Until last year Senti had to teach undergrads at NYU as part of her phd. program, besides having to deal with her course requirements.  But after four years, she says she is done with those crazy time conflicts and scheduling, “I have a little more space now.” She’s up by 6 every morning pottering around the house, cooking some, taking care of daily chores and finding time to do some reading or writing. But for the most part, it’s family time. “I hold on to it as much as I can,” she says. And what of current, creative, fare? “Some song is always brewing in the back burners as I go about life,” she says, quite enigmatically.  

And here in the midst of a colorful crowd gathered in festive mood about these thatched morungs and log drums stands Senti…actually she’s now standing right in front of the Korean TV channel’s tent, a new participant at this years’ Hornbill Festival. The ‘arirang’ tent is set up on another level, above the huge bamboo pavilion near the entrance steps leading from the parking area. Senti waits here to meet her sister-in-law and niece together with whom she will ride home later. She extends a warm hug. Could she offer some words of advice for the likes of her own trying to make a living through music in Nagaland and the Northeast? Senti’s smile is curved wide, side to side. “Stay true to yourself and keep pushing the parameters!” she says and suddenly Senti is tall, her petite frame stands out from among the buzzing festival crowd and her parting counsel shoots straight out, as straight as the pine trees on the craggy hillside shooting skyways in the chilled December air.  

Anungla Longkumer