Interview: Dhruv Visvanath plots big musical adventures with new album, ‘The Lost Cause’

Dhruv Visvanath longed for his innocence again. He held an old photograph in his hands. It was blurry, a bit crumpled around the edges and perfectly captured his youth, a flashing moment in time of a better day with his late father, whose memory now only lived on in treasured trinkets and tattered photographs. It was his way of holding on to his boy-like wander and charm, most of all. I suppose we all do this; most people collect photographs as a way of reliving the bright spots, especially important in times of darkness or when life seems devastatingly punishing with age. Unsurprisingly, the singer-songwriter wrote a song about those feelings ⎯⎯ of being a prisoner to his own existence and yearning for childhood again, a time when it seemed he had all the time in the world.

But the world is unforgiving. We get caught up in our own devices and forget ourselves. In many ways, Visvanath is chasing himself. “I feel like I’m chasing my dream everyday, to be the best I can be and write compelling stories as songs,” he tells B-Sides & Badlands over a recent email. “I’ve always wanted to chase my dream of traveling the world playing my music to amazing audiences.” It’s not such a far-fetched notion. He spent much of his childhood in places like Honk Kong, Zambia and England, cultures which he has since culled into his work. His new album, The Lost Cause (out now), is rich in the colors of the world, often shifting between traditional folk music, rhythmic pop and tribal based work of his home country of India. It’s earthy, accessible and dazzling. He quickly quips, “I guess, somewhere down the line, I’d love to write something that wins me a Grammy, and I would absolutely love to write scores for movies.”

He’s got big ambitions, but thankfully, he has an enormous gift to back it up. That hasn’t come easy to him, either. “The only thing I’ve really chased is happiness,” he corrects, honing in on the things that really matter to him. “I’ve had a bit of a challenging life, and my family has been very supportive of my journey. I only want to make sure that I can take care of them in the same way they’ve looked after me.” Oh, and on a less-serious note, he’d love to one day own “the world’s largest video game collection.”

Maybe, he’s closer than he thinks ⎯⎯ on all those things.

His new single is the brisk and cherry-plucked “Wild,” a rambling and windy tune bouncing off furious guitar playing and little else, collapsing into his deep unease. He keeps his cool, though, even amidst pressurized vocal layers, cracking strings and punctuated finger snaps which boil over into a rallying cry of lofty proportions. But its build is precise, remaining fluid enough, as a river dashing down the mountainside, to allow the listener to be drawn in and struck with their own revelations. It’s cut from his experiences but crafted with the universe in mind. In the accompanying visual, “Wild” extends its meaning with the help of some makeshift mop puppets, conceptualized by director Tanvi Ghandi, who “always wanted to cast mops in a film. Everytime I saw them around, I’d feel like they were looking at me wistfully,” she says, laughing freely.

Taking the searing imagery of Visvanath’s photograph, Ghandi built the story around the search for freedom. “The concept is loosely based on the lives of people who, for reasons beyond their control, have to leave their homes and lives behind almost overnight and move to a new unfamiliar place,” she explains. The visual depicts a group of mops, originally from a place called The Wild, which “ceased to exist about three generations ago” and how their lives are thrust into a concrete jungle. With their homes completely demolished, they start their lives over. “Now, even though many years have gone by, they still often feel like outsiders and miss their native place. They keep stumbling upon things that remind them of The Wild, things that act as triggers which take them back in time.”

The concept in place, they set about filming in Bombay, which was “just one big adventure,” Ghandi says. The construction of mops was the greatest pre-production undertaking, of course, and they had to get the look and feel just right. “Considering this hadn’t been done before, it went through many stages of prototyping till we found the design that worked. We built about six of them. Each mop body had wheels at the bottom and detachable heads. Once they were built my friend Sumer found the most effective way of operating the puppet necks ⎯⎯ to get the mop to emote. All the shots that have the mop heads moving actually have someone sitting on the floor operating them! Each of the mop bodies weighed at least eight to 10 kilograms each, so carrying them around with all our other gear (especially in the forests) was really physically exhausting for our stripped down indie crew of seven people.”

But not everyone was nearly as pleased of their endeavors. “It’s illegal to film on the streets of Bombay without permission, so every time we got questioned by cops, we’d innocently tell them we were making a PSA film for ‘A Cleaner India,’ and that’s why we had mops. They’d always let is continue shooting after hearing that,” she says in an email, with a smirk.

Visvanath wasn’t present during filming, but he beams with pride over the final product. “The fact that she managed to connect the dots so well, made it such a wonderful story to watch,” he says.

Below, Visvanath opens up about the album’s vastness, finding what he wants in life, how is father’s death influenced his music and his playful uses of rhythms.

Have you found what you’re chasing?

Well, the video game collection will take some time. As for the rest, well, I’m pretty new on this journey, and being in India and following a musical career is a massive challenge. So far, I feel like I’m 15 percent of the way to achieving my goals! But it’s all about setting a good system in place, and I think in time, I’ll find it. Chasing all of these things was exactly why I wrote the album.

Through the years, you went through various musical phases, even being infatuated with metal music. How did those “eras” of your life lead you here, to The Lost Case?

Well, it’s all a part of growing up. Even as a young musician, I remember my father coming into my room at 3 a.m. saying, “Son, please I beg you, please stop playing, we’re all trying to sleep!” I think listening to so many different types of music allowed me to learn how well other musicians gel with each other, as well as understand how important music is to our senses. The one thing I learnt is that every bit of music occupies a bit of space, in terms of the frequencies we listen to, and with this record, I wanted to take my style of playing and make it seem like it was the largest sounding thing on the planet. I often make my music alone, and whilst most would see that as a hindrance, I took it on as a challenge. So, what you hear on the record isn’t just an audio representation of the stories I’ve experienced growing up, but just one guy making all this music in his bedroom, with a guitar.

Did you find yourself daring yourself to explore as much as possible in your sonic hybrids?

Absolutely! I mean one can only do so much with an acoustic instrument, and like I said, I took it on as a challenge to make my music feel larger than life. It can be a little hard to explain, but I really feel that when you’re recording music, you’re dealing with a blank canvas. Between performing and recording, you want to make sure that your recorded work sounds as good as it possibly can. Anyone can write a great song, but it’s just the start of the journey. I hope the effort comes across in the music. I mean, I almost never use synths or a basses or strings in my music, and with this record, it felt like the perfect fit to everything. I hate to use a Shrek analogy, but a lot of what you hear in the album is similar to an onion, just full of layers. Don’t peel it though, you may cry!

When do you know what a song or piece of music will be?

When I have 10 seconds of an idea, it gives me the perfect base to start to write the rest of the song around it. Often times, I’ll find myself bringing together a bunch of these 10-second ideas and making a song out of them, too. But the most important thing is to be rather instinctual about the idea you’re writing. You have to really let the idea complete itself. I know it sounds silly, but when the pendulum swings, it’s a little hard to stop!

“Midnight” is such a cool instrumental, and it gives a nice bridge between “Jungle” and “Standing Still.” What do you see when you play this one?

Well, the thing is the song was just meant to feel like a jam, something that is pretty easy to play but sounds really really fun and groovy. I kinda get this neon light feeling when I play it, as if you’re watching the reflections of massive nightclub and casino signs on a car window. I’d originally written the song as a tribute to my family’s music collection. My mother and father had a massive collection of tapes and vinyls, and my house was filled with great music. It’s a big thank you to my family for introducing me to the world of music. Also, if it helps, this is one of the few songs I’ve written on standard tuning on a guitar! [laughs] If that makes it easier for anyone else to play…

What was the impact of your father’s passing on your music?

My father was everything to me. He was a kind and really really funny man. When he passed, it really felt as if my entire world was over, not to mention my mum was distraught, and my brother was so young. The three of us were in a different country, and having to move and begin anew elsewhere was traumatic. Every sense of security gone, every bit of happiness and every memory just vanished overnight. His passing really played a big role in my life, and forced me to grow up really quickly. For me, though, I found it hard to talk to people about my father’s passing, and I kind of dove into writing music as an outlet. So, every song I’ve written often feels like an escape from reality and feels close to a confession of sorts. I’d like to think that the day he passed away was the day I found my voice and my passion.

Did your father influence this new project in any way?

He influences every song I write. In fact, all of my songs have some connection to a person from my family. Us Indian folk have big families. I think I’ve got a bunch of songs left to write [laughs] ‘The Lost Cause’ started off as a tour with the sole purpose of trying to find out stories related to my family’s history. And with traveling to over 17 cities and playing more than 22 shows across India, I found so many stories worth telling. And I’m proud to see it come through in this album.

How did that moment transform how you perceived songwriting and playing?

It gave me purpose and made me want to tell stories that hit you the moment you hear it. I wanted to voice the same grief my family and I have lived through, and it meant that I had to pour my heart out with each and every song. I write many songs. I have maybe hundreds of songs that I’ve written, but I feel like a perfectionist of sorts. I’ll only push to finish songs I know I can build a world around. It also boils down to how I introduce the song on stage, and being able to tell the story that goes with the song is a vital part of sharing the connection one makes with my music.

I want people to laugh and cry, because it’s exactly what I go through when I make my music. As for my playing, for me, rhythm is such an important factor. I find it imperative to give the song a heartbeat, to give it life, and with that I find that I always seek to reinvent the way that I play. I try to evolve my creative process every time I make something new. Each creation has to be different from the other, because each story is unique, and if my technique can allow for a new story to be told in a better way, I’m all for it.

Do you think freedom is a common thread for this new project?

Not really. I tend to think that freedom feels more like a distant goal rather. For me, it’s about chasing dreams and allowing yourself the opportunity to chase a sense of happiness in what you do, which is why the album feels like an anthem of sorts, calling out to you to get you to follow your dreams.

“Botswana” is another free-wheeling, breezy standout on the record. What experience inspired this one? How did the arrangement come together?

Well, this one is kind of funny, to be honest. When I was little, I spent a short amount of time in Zambia. My father was in the hotel business, and I was lucky to have spent some time in such an extravagant part of the world. I don’t remember anything, however, for I was 2 years old when I left. Anyway, I wanted to write a song about my time there, and in my quest to try to find a word to rhyme with Zambia, I couldn’t find anything, so I called the song Botswana, instead.

As for the arrangement, I felt that it was important for the song to feel a little tribal and have it maintain a heavy acoustic flavor. My initial thought was that when I play this song, I want people clapping and dancing, as if they were calling for the rain. I love playing this song live, because the story always brings a bunch of laughs and also because the song charges me up for the rest of the night.

Rhythm plays such a crucial role in your music. Do you draw ideas from specific cultures, then melding it with something completely your own?

Adding a sense of rhythm to the music is so vital for me as I find it to be the heartbeat of a song. As I’d mentioned earlier, I feel as if it gives the song life, and with the fact that I try to do it by myself, I love the challenge of making my guitar sound like as if four different people are playing it. I guess the cultural aspect of the rhythm is lost on me, because I make all of my percussive sounds with the guitar. I think for me it’s more about making an interesting progression with the beat to support the melody of the song. I want for it to seem accessible and intriguing at the same time. I try to understand how dance music works with it’s thumping beat, and I find it to be an interesting challenge to recreate that with my bare hands.

What is your favorite rhythmic-based piece to play?

I honestly love playing “Afterglow” from the album. I love how it transitions from a simple heavy riff to something epic towards the end. It really does surprise listeners as the last half of the song kicks in, and when playing it live, it feels like as if one has climbed a massive mountain, in order to witness something beautiful. The summit doesn’t have to be the end of the journey.

“Drop” is another compelling instrumental, as well. Can you talk about the progression of this one from start to finish?

This song is another funny one. The only reason why I wrote this was because it looked so cool to play. I was a little tired of writing songs with a lot of focus and attention, so when it came to making this song, I just wanted to shred. It took me back to my older days of playing the guitar and sitting in my room and fiddling with various tunings.

What is it about “The Lost Cause” that made sense as the title song?

I guess it was a sense of being a musician in today’s day and age. I felt like a man following his dream, and that was that. I had one line stuck in my head for days, much like my other 10 second ideas, and I took it from there and grew out this idea which felt as if it was helping me deal with a stressful time in my life. I looked to this song as the release I’d been waiting for, as the anthem to let me know that what I was doing as a musician was the right thing. I hope that this song serves as an anthem to those who feel lost in their work and life. I want for people to own their lost causes, and I hope this inspires them to do great things.

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