I’m not sure this pandemic has changed the way we make music permanently but there is definitely a heightened awareness of how important and fragile the experience of being able to make music is with other people,” says New York-based guitarist and composer Shubh Saran who is basking in the glory of his new album, inglish, which reflects a varied soundscape that moves in the worlds of modern jazz, neo soul and rock. It’s also a personal album for Saran who has had addresses the world over — New Delhi, Dhaka, Cairo, Geneva, Toronto, Boston and, of course, NYC. Here’s more from the man whose music appears to capture life in motion.

Duality lies at the heart of the album’s title, inglish. Duality can be about who you are and what you have to put up with. It can reflect the environs you grew up in. What does it mean to your music?

To me, the duality of my music very much means the different worlds my music inhabits, whether it’s the technical aspects of the music that borrows from multiple styles or if it’s the subject matter of the songs. But it also comes with a lack of anchoring and not feeling like you belong to one, or any specific musical tradition. Feeling that lack of depth and knowledge in one musical language can be a tricky thing. And trying to add depth to your music while feeling that is also a tricky thing.

Your first full-length album, Hmayra, was in 2017. How has life changed in these four years and how reflective is it in your music on the new album? Issues like racial prejudice, climate change, big tech wars, political movements in India … Have these or other issues got you thinking differently?

Big global movements and discussion always bleed into the things we create, whether overtly or very covertly. My growth since Hmayra has been coloured by all of my experiences, and all of those experiences have been shaped by engaging with the world, trying to make sense of my place in it. I try to write music that is very personal and specific to my own life, so I don’t typically allude to larger issues, even though they’re present. I’ve been thinking about identity for many years but my thoughts on it wouldn’t have been the same had the events of last year not taken place, the pandemic and the dialogue around racial justice.

While growing up, you must have listened to a different kind of music than what you are enjoying now. If you can share about the change in musical tastes.

I spent my early teens listening to what was popular among my peers which was mostly punk rock and pop punk music. When my family moved back to India, I discovered my love for Indian fusion music with bands like Indian Ocean and Shakti. As I started playing the guitar more seriously, I began seeking out guitar-heavy music which led me to my blues, funk, and rock guitar heroes.

Music school in Boston was a deep dive into modern jazz, R&B, and neo-soul but also an education in how vast other musical traditions are around the world. Since then I’ve been living in New York City, working largely as a gigging musician playing all sorts of different kinds of music. My tastes have changed but all the music I grew up with very much informs the music I make now.

There comes a time in the life of some artistes, when they lie about being happy because of the successful career they lead. Has that ever been the case with you?

I’ve never had to lie about being happy despite my successes, but I do feel a sense of unease even when things go well. There’s a sense of impermanence about artistic careers that musicians feel very often. We’re so used to rejection that when something truly great happens, we often look at it with a hint of skepticism as well. When your work is so tied to your entire sense of purpose, the emotions that come with it are that much more complex. All that is to say, it’s difficult, but I’m extremely grateful that I get to play music for a living every day.

What are the sounds of New York you enjoy most and what are the sounds of New Delhi that you miss the most?

I miss the sound of Delhi in the evening when everyone’s making their way home — it feels familiar. The sound of stray dogs barking, pressure cookers going off, car horns, and kids playing in their colony parks. For such a chaotic city, the engine of Delhi finally winding down for the night is a beautiful time. It reminds me of family dinners and people coming together.

Quite contrary to that, I love the busyness of New York. The sound of the traffic, the announcements on the subway, the rowdiness of the Lower East Side as you wade through people while hauling gear on your back. It truly is a city that doesn’t shut down and that constant motion is the life blood of my creativity and drive.

Musically, the community and scene in Delhi will always have a really special place in my heart. It’s where I started to gig out during summer breaks back from college. It’s a city where I had been looking for like-minded people for years and when I finally found the musician community, I felt right at home. I miss the intimacy of the Delhi music scene when I was more present in it — it was small and undiscovered. There was an excitement in figuring out what independent music in India could become and feeling like you were a part of that movement was really empowering.

New York is like a mini universe of music and art. Musicians here have to straddle so many different worlds at the same time that you end up playing all kinds of music. The community feels tight-knit but at the same time it appears to be endless. Having lived here for over seven years, I still constantly meet musicians I’ve never worked with, even though we’ve all been working together in the New York music scene for years.