Take us back to the beginning—how did you find your way into Indian classical fusion production?
I didn’t grow up with formal training or a traditional, rigorous musical upbringing, but I was lucky to be surrounded by a wide range of sounds from the start. Indian classical music, ’90s pop, and new-age experiments were all part of what I absorbed, and I only realized much later that this mix was quietly shaping my instincts.
The real turning point was about 15–20 years ago when a friend gave me a copy of a DAW. I taught myself how to produce, how to mix samples, and how to make synthesized textures sit alongside organic instruments—those early experiments were where everything began to “click” for me.
I officially launched the Naad project in 2020, but the ideas had been building for years. What excites me is treating ragas with respect while still letting them live in the present—bringing in global percussion, electronica, and even rock or hip-hop flavors, without losing the traditional spirit.
If you had 60 seconds to introduce someone to your sound, which excerpts would you play—and what should we listen for?
I’m sharing two snippets because I don’t like boxing myself into one “fusion” template—I want the imagination to stay loose. The first is Darbari Blues, rooted in Raag Darbari Kanada, but the atmosphere leans new-age and cinematic.
You’ll hear core Indian elements—sarangi, rhythmic bols—and a vocal bandish (with a Raag Bhairavi rendition woven in), but I also brought in Middle Eastern percussion and even a surprise Spanish guitar solo. The second, Bhairavi Sunrise, is built on the morning Raag Bhairavi but pushed into a more electronic/EDM energy, with sitar and bansuri at the center and Latin percussion threading through the groove.
Walk us through this DAW snapshot—what are we seeing, and what choices define the track?
This screenshot is from an unreleased original called Nigahe, and I’m genuinely excited about it. The concept is a modern thumri with a jazzy undercurrent—romantic, intimate, and designed to give the vocal and harmonies room to breathe.
The tempo sits at 92 BPM, so nothing feels rushed. Structurally, drums provide the framework, a strong bassline anchors the low end, and then layers of piano/keys carry that jazz color across the track.
One of my favorite moments is a short veena solo that I’ve processed to feel almost like an electric guitar. That blur—where a traditional instrument can live comfortably inside a contemporary palette—is a signature I keep coming back to.
When you compare your rough demo to the final master, what changed the most in your mix?
In the raw version, the biggest issue is that elements compete for space—some instruments and parts of the vocal feel buried, while other frequencies jump out in an unbalanced way. Once I move into mixing, the goal is to make every layer feel like it belongs in a shared “sonic room.”
I focus a lot on spatial placement—depth, width, and clarity—so the track doesn’t feel crowded. Level balancing is only the starting point; the real work is carving space so each element gets its own moment, like arranging people in a photograph so nobody blocks anyone else.
Mastering is where the whole thing becomes impact-ready: louder, more cohesive, and emotionally consistent from start to finish. My aim is always for the final to feel bigger than the sum of its parts—clear, powerful, and still pleasant to live with.
Which Indian classical element do you find yourself returning to most—and how did you shape it in this clip?
This clip sits on the foundation of Raag Pilu, but the overall arrangement leans pop-electronic—that contrast is exactly where the fusion comes alive for me. The key classical colors here are Hindustani vocals and sitar, and I love letting those be the emotional “truth” inside a modern production.
Production-wise, I processed the sitar quite heavily so it can read almost like an electric guitar in the mix. If you’re not listening closely, you might not immediately clock it as a traditional instrument—and that’s intentional, because I want it to blend naturally rather than sit apart as an “exotic” layer.
More broadly, I’m always drawn to sitar, bansuri, and sarangi, and rhythmically I love using tabla, mridangam, kanjira, ghatam, morsing—plus mouth percussion like tabla bols and konnakol. Carnatic rhythm especially brings a kind of precision and complexity that instantly lifts the energy of a track.
Do you remember the first moment you felt your music truly connected with listeners?
It’s happened in a few different ways, and each time feels different—some tracks simply resonate more than others and get a wave of love that you can’t completely predict. I’ve learned that trying to recreate a “formula” never works; what lands is the overall feeling, where every element is doing its part.
One of the most meaningful things is getting messages from listeners describing what a specific track made them feel. That kind of feedback reminds me that the music isn’t just sound design—it’s a shared emotional space with real people on the other side.
I also love when other creatives—photographers, fashion designers, filmmakers—reach out to use the music in their work. Sometimes those connections turn into friendships, and often they become thoughtful critics too, which I genuinely value.
What’s the story behind this milestone—why does it stand out for you?
Honestly, the first big milestone was simply releasing the music—putting it into the world and accepting that strangers could discover it (and interpret it) in their own way. That step alone changes you as an artist.
Over time, the messages and comments from listeners have become the most meaningful “numbers” to me. They’re real people connecting with something I created, and that never stops feeling surreal or motivating.
That said, being featured on a couple of Spotify editorial playlists was a particularly happy moment. It felt like a nod from experienced curators—and even then, I see it as one chapter in a much longer journey of exploring new sounds and new stories.
How do you build real chemistry when many of your collaborations happen remotely?
I don’t usually have photos with collaborators because the work is often remote, but the process itself is deeply collaborative. I almost never start with a pre-made arrangement—typically it’s a blank slate, and I want the other artist to express themselves freely first.
Whether it’s a vocalist or an instrumentalist, I try to capture their performance in its purest form and then build the soundscape around what they’ve given me. The music “tells” me where it wants to go, instead of me forcing it into a structure I decided in advance.
Two artists I’ve been collaborating with lately are Kinkini Deb, a Hindustani vocalist from Kolkata (and a disciple of the late Pandit Channulal Mishra ji), and Hidayat Husain Khan, the son of Ustad Vilayat Khan Sahab. Working with artists of that calibre brings depth and authenticity—and we have more exciting projects lined up.
You’ve mentioned keeping things simple—what does your core production setup look like day to day?
I’m genuinely minimal with gear: it’s mostly just me, my laptop, and a room where I feel comfortable enough to experiment for hours. I work almost entirely in-the-box, so software is where the bulk of my sound design, arranging, and mixing decisions happen.
When organic elements need to be recorded—vocals or classical instruments—that usually comes from collaborators recording on their end, or from carefully chosen samples. I do have basic recording equipment at home, but I rarely need to pull it out.
For me, simplicity equals flexibility. The fewer obstacles between an idea and the timeline, the more fearless I can be with layering, processing, and pushing a classical element into a contemporary space without losing its soul.
Contact and Follow
- Name: Ayon Ghosh
- Email: mahalstudio@outlook.com
- Website: https://www.mahalstudio.in/
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- Bandcamp: https://mahalstudio.bandcamp.com/
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