Ganavya: Daughter of a Temple (Barbican Centre, London, September 4)

Ganavya Doraiswamy, AKA ganavya, was born in New York, raised in Tamil Nadu and is now a resident back in the US. She has been incredibly busy recently, releasing three albums since 2024: Like the Sky I’ve Been Too Quiet, Daughter of a Temple and Nilam (a TOTW in Songlines #210). It’s her intensely spiritual voice and performance style that make her stand out. On stage at the Barbican, wearing a loose-fitting white robe, she began a quiet reading of ‘A Love Chant’ sans accompaniment. A couple of phrases in, she shifts to full voice, her unusually configured group of double bass, two harps and piano gradually joining her.

As this opener died away, I was surprised to hear what I assumed was the audience singing along in unison. But it quickly became apparent that it was ganavya’s Love Supreme Choir, emerging from the audience. Daughter of a Temple – from which much of the set was taken – pays tribute to American harpist-pianist-bandleader Alice Coltrane, hence the emphasis on harps, and a version of ‘Love Supreme’ [written by John Coltrane, and performed by Alice Coltrane in 1971] that was performed as the evening’s penultimate number.

This was ganavya’s biggest headline show to date, and she used the opportunity to invite along several guests, a different musician joining her for each song. These included saxophonist Immanuel Wilkins, singer-guitarist Sam Amidon, three other singers, her percussionist brother and her parents for an extremely long bhajan. Unfortunately, these cameos resulted in a performance both diluted and disjointed, with the involvement of her family even coming over as self-indulgent. It was also hard to hear the softly spoken introductions, which didn’t help the evening’s flow.

But there were still some standout moments, such as ‘Pasayadan’, from Nilam, one of a few solo songs sung in a deep chiaroscuro voice with simple piano, rather than the over-busy arpeggios pianist Jay Verma added elsewhere. ganavya appeared as if officiating at a ritual, urging her audience to participate, orchestrating them with bold gestures. She spoke movingly about her grandmother, also a singer, who raised her in India. After a hard life, ganavya said she “died a happy, curious musician”, confessing she hoped for a similar fate.