Ten of my favourite ‘record player’ songs

Posted on by

29

Many years ago, a blog reader with whom I had some differences, and who never seemed to be in agreement with me, parted ways with my blog. As she departed, it was with the scathing comment that I chose the most outlandish and weird of themes for my song lists. Unfortunately (or fortunately? I cannot decide) comments like that only serve to make me want to prove how unwarranted the remark is. In this case, by showing the reader that she “ain’t seen nothin’ yet”, as they say. If you thought I chose weird themes, you don’t known what a weird theme is. The weirdest is yet to come.

… and this is it. The germ of this idea was planted in my mind when I was doing research for another weirdly-themed list: my recording studio songs list. Several of the songs that feature people singing in recording studios also show the other side: people listening in, an audience tuned in to a radio or a television. As I’d watched song after song on my longlist and then my shortlist, I’d noticed that several songs weren’t just played on radios, but on record players, on gramophones. That had to be a separate list, I decided.

So here it is: ten songs that appear in a film as being played on a record player (in some cases, they begin on a record player and then wander off down other paths…). As always, these are all from pre-1970s Hindi films that I’ve seen. These songs are in no particular order.

1. O meri maina tu maan le mera kehna (Pyaar Kiye Jaa, 1966): From one of old Hindi cinema’s best comedies comes this delightful song, picturized on a peppy, pretty Mumtaz and a nutty Mehmood (in one of his few films where I actually do find him funny). As a film producer (of a film company he’s named Wah, Wah Productions), Mehmood’s character is also producer, director, song writer, music director, lead actor, choreographer and more for his home production. Here, to tantalize a prospective investor, he and his heroine offer a glimpse of what one might expect. The record sticks in the middle (I love that touch of verisimilitude!), but the energy and effervescence of this song and dance is in a league all its own.

2. Na tum humein jaano na hum tumhein jaane (Baat ek Raat ki, 1962): The duet version of this beautiful song is far better-known than Suman Kalyanpur’s solo version, but this one, too, is lovely—and it’s a song played on a record player. Waheeda Rehman’s character, a theatre actress, is waiting at home for her lover to arrive, and whiles away the time listening to a record. She soon begins to sing along to it, and it becomes her song.

3. Dil ka diya jalaake gaya (Akashdeep, 1965): An especially poignant and sweet ‘record player song’, because of the context, rather than the song itself (which said, the song too is beautiful: soft, full of emotion, melodious). Nimmi’s character is mute, and has pretty much reconciled herself to always being the hanger-on, spending all her life lonely. When a man whom she too likes confesses his love for her, suddenly everything changes: there is hope, there is joy, there is love. She cannot sing, but she can lip-sync, and so she puts on a record that expresses her feelings, the sense of wonder at the happiness that is now hers. Nimmi is not generally a favourite of mine, but I do like her in this song.

4. Phool gendwa na maaro (Dooj ka Chaand, 1964): This song, when contrasted with another record player song—O meri maina—is a fine showcase of Manna De’s versatility. The man who could sing, with such gay abandon (and such brilliant mirroring of Mehmood’s onscreen nuttiness) could also sing this amazingly good rendition of a classic thumri. Another interesting thing is that the context, even here, is humorous: Agha’s character, trying to woo his lady love, takes the help of a couple of friends, who surreptitiously play a gramophone while their buddy lip-syncs to the song. Of course, as happens all too often in such situations, the lady isn’t easily fooled…

5. Tu jahaan-jahaan chalega mera saaya (Mera Saaya, 1966): From a film that had one great song after another, the title song of Mera Saaya appears a couple of times in the film. Sunil Dutt, as the man whose much-loved wife has recently died, pines for her, miserable and inconsolable. His state of mind is such that when he puts on a record to try and distract himself, while the song that plays is Woh bhooli daastaan lo phir yaad gayi (a very appropriate song for the situation), what he really ends up hearing is Tu jahaan-jahaan chalega. The scene then shifts into a flashback, when she (Sadhana) sang the song at a party, while he played the piano.

6. Sapne mein sajan se do baatein (Gateway of India): This is the only song in this list for which no video is available, so you’ll have to take my word for the fact that it’s a record player song (or watch the film, where you can see where the song would have appeared). Madhubala in Gateway of India plays an heiress who runs away from home after realizing that her life is in danger; over the course of the night, she meets several men and has many adventures. One of these men, Shankar (Om Prakash), takes pity on the ravenous young woman, feeds her—and then insists she listen to a record by his favourite singer ‘Leela Mukherjee’, whom he’s mad about.

‘Leela Mukherjee’, as can be seen from her photo, is none other than Lata Mangeshkar. Lata was so annoyed that Om Prakash (who also produced and directed the film) used her photograph without her permission (and that too as the muse of a vile character, who is driven to criminality by his passion for ‘Leela Mukherjee’!) that she insisted on the song being edited out of the film.

7. Main jab bhi akeli hoti hoon (Dharmputra, 1962): Like Tu jahaan-jahaan chalega, this song too is about missing someone. In this case, Mala Sinha’s character, an unmarried woman and pregnant, remembers the lover (played by Rehman) who’s gone away, heaven knows where. In an effort to distract herself, she puts a record on to play, and the song that plays is this one. Main jab bhi akeli hoti hoon mirrors exactly her own feelings, to the point that every single line is something she can relate to, she can identify with. A beautiful song, one of my favourite of Asha Bhonsle’s gentler songs.

8. Subaah na aayi shaam na aayi (Cha Cha Cha, 1964): One of the few films that featured Helen in a lead role, Cha Cha Cha starred her opposite Chandrashekhar. The film was a mishmash of tropes, from that of the city girl Lali falling in love with a simple village singer (and a blind one, at that), to a makeover, to parental opposition to true love—and eventually the heroine being crippled. Without the use of her legs, Lali is reduced to lying in bed, listening to records. Records, especially, of the lover whom she’s contrived to push away, just so that she won’t be a burden on him.

If the film itself was nothing great, at least Cha Cha Cha had great songs (with music composed by Iqbal Qureshi), and this is one of its loveliest.

9. Humein tumse mohabbat hai magar hum (Aurat, 1967): A record player is sometimes used (as in Dil ka diya jalaake gaya) for a ‘surrogate song’: the song expresses the emotions of the person who cannot sing it. In Dil ka diya jalaake gaya, the reason was rather more practical, more poignant; in Humein tumse mohabbat hai, it’s a question of shyness. Nazima’s character, a demure miss in love with her bhabhi’s younger brother (Rajesh Khanna), who is staying with them, cannot summon up the courage to express her feelings. But she’s a clever girl, and realizes that a well-chosen record may suit the purpose just as well. The result is this, a melodious and lovely song. And it does the trick: the man’s attention is held, she’s able to get the message across.

10. Loshe vai-vai o loshe vai-vai (Jaagte Raho, 1956): To end this list, yet another song for the record player being used as a surrogate singer. In this case, the situation is quite different: the LP twirling on that turntable simply helps support the happy delusions of a drunk. Motilal’s character, tipsy beyond reasoning, has come home after an evening of carousing and wants his wife (Sumitra Devi) to join him in some further rang-raliyaan. She, a ‘good’ Indian housewife, shrinks at the thought of this debauchery and retreats into her pooja room, but the unsuspected interloper in their house (Raj Kapoor’s villager) puts in an appearance—and the drink-befuddled gaze of the master of the house happily transforms this villager into the wife, all decked up and being coquettish as she sings a duet with her man. He does sing a little for himself (in Haridhan Mukherjee’s voice), but his wife’s ‘voice’ (playback by Sandhya Mukherjee) is actually from the record he’s put on.

So that’s my list. Do you have any more songs to add to this? If there are more recent songs played on tape decks or CD decks, those could also be added. Please share!

29 thoughts on “Ten of my favourite ‘record player’ songs”

  1. Unique topic selected & perfect selections . I would like to add one more ” jhir jhir barse sawaniya ankhiyaan ” film Aashirwad ( on screen actress is Sumita Sanyal)

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    • I’m glad you enjoyed this post – and thank you for Jhir-jhir barse. It’s been a long time since I watched Aashirwaad, so I’d forgotten this was a record player song.

      Like

      Reply

  2. As an avid vinyl record collector And listener, I find this theme really awesome! Weird themes? I think your themes are some of the more creative and thought provoking ones, and yet they are really focused too. So ignore the naysayers and keep on the good work. 😊 Oh, and great song selection, by the way!

    Ok, I have a unique song to add to the list. It’s “Sajna ka kangna, kangna mein heera” from the 1980 Mithun/Zareena Wahab movie Sitara. The song is sung by Asha Bhonsle and Bhupinder. What’s unique about this picturisation is that midway the record gets stuck (as they do) and then the male and female voices switch. Mithun mouths Asha’s words and Zareena does the Bhupinder voice. 😂

    That’s also one of my trap questions in quizzing, ie which song does Asha Bhonsle give playback for Mithun… 😊

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  3. Nice theme. Good songs.

    SUNNY, 1984.

    In the Sharmila Tagore version, we see a gramophone briefly. The Amrita Singh version is a recording studio.

    Like

    Reply

  4. I have been following your blog for a few years and I love your themes including this one. My favorite being Nimmi’s ‘dil ka diya jala ke gayo’.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    • Thank you so much for the kind words. I love Dil ka diya jalaake gaya – such a soft, soothing song. The lyrics, music, rendition and acting are all very calming, somehow.

      Like

      Reply

      • You’re very welcome, Madhu! I’ve known about this record player/karaoke scene for several years. I think I may have first found out about it from our old fellow blogger Vidur Sury, who was very focused on Vintage films (his cutoff date was probably 1950 :) ) and was obviously a big Shanta Apte fan. I haven’t seen the whole film. Being a V. Shantaram film from 1937, it’s probably pretty interesting. I’d love to find a copy with English subtitles!

        Liked by 1 person

        Reply

        • I remembered that Kunku was also made in Hindi, though I’d forgotten what the Hindi film was called – just discovered: Duniya Na Maane, which was a huge hit. I think I’ve seen bits of it way back in my childhood (when, of course, I found it very boring!). I looked around for a subtitled version of Kunku, but since I couldn’t find that, I suppose I should give Duniya Na Maane another try. :-)

          Liked by 1 person

          Reply

  6. Oh… what a lovely theme, Madhu! ‘Weird’? You got to be kidding! But I remember that poster flouncing away and someone in the comments wanted you to write a post on flouncing songs! 😄

    Bring it on! And such a great post, my dear. I’m taking my brains to remember songs with a gramaphone in them and am coming up short right now. Will be back when I remember.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    • I had forgotten about someone wanting me to do ‘flouncing away’ songs! What a good idea. :D I must, someday.

      My goodness, that woman – the one who flounced away – her ears must be burning. Little does she know.

      Like

      Reply

  7. Nice list, dear Madhu.

    Long time ago, when I used to blog, I had made a vinyl records list, which never frutified in a blog post. It had many songs from your list too like
    main jab bhi akeli hoti hoon
    Na tum hame jaano
    sapne me sajan se
    dil ka diya jalake gaya
    o meri maina
    ghir ghir barse sanwari (somebody else mentioned it here)

    Two songs, which have not been mentioned here and were on my list are:
    Kitni akeli kitni tanha si from Talash [1969]
    Kahin to milegi kabhi to milegi from Aarti [1962]

    Both are big favourites of mine.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  8. How interesting.

    Let me let you in a secret .

    I keep making such lists in my head and record player is/was one of them .
    Others are Radios/transistors and Tape Recorders/Walkmans

    :)

    Will post a few record player songs if no one posts them first

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  10. Many younger people have come to appreciate “vinyl”. In general though kids today don’t have the ‘fun’ of watching a record spin round while music plays from it..(I, at least enjoyed it as a child in the 60s and 70s!) . I always enjoy your informative and inventive song lists..rarely have time at present to look up and listen to many, but envision one day having more leisure time to do so….I’m also glad that complaining commenter departed! I’ve noticed in a Facebook group I’m in, certain individuals would rather find fault and criticize…instead of posting something of their own!

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    • Another gripe I have with some (thankfully not too many) people who’ve been on my timeline on Facebook: they comment only to disagree and to find fault. Never otherwise. I find that so negative, I’ve ended up unfriending several people like that.

      And I remember that spinning record, too. My parents had a turntable till the early 2000s (though I think by the mid-80s or so, we had switched to tapes) and their collection of LPs was with them till a couple of years back, when my niece (who recently acquired a modern turntable) inherited the lot. :-)

      Like

      Reply

Leave a reply to drpradeepshetty87gmailcom Cancel reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.