Beyond Fusion: How New-Age Indian Artists Are Translating Classical Music for a New Generation

In the sprawling landscape of contemporary music, classical fusion is no longer a novelty — it is a battleground for authenticity, innovation, and emotional resonance. As global audiences grow increasingly restless for experiences that blend tradition with modern sensibility, Indian classical music stands at an intriguing crossroads. No longer confined to stately auditoriums or lengthy recitals, the form is undergoing a radical reinterpretation, challenging the very notion of what it means to "honour" tradition.

Across the world, a new breed of musicians is emerging — artists who treat classical music not as a rigid archive but as a living, malleable force. Among them are TĀL FRY, a percussion-forward ensemble reimagining Hindustani and Carnatic rhythms with immersive visual storytelling, and Samad Khan, an indie artist who effortlessly blends the intricate structures of classical vocals with contemporary genres. Their approaches may differ, but their philosophies converge on a crucial point: classical music must not merely survive in a globalised world; it must evolve and thrive.

Tradition as a Living Language

At a time when the term "fusion" risks becoming a catchall cliché, artists like TĀL FRY and Samad Khan are rewriting the script. Rather than merely blending Indian classical with global genres, they are treating tradition as a living, breathing language — one that can be rearticulated, stretched, and reimagined without losing its soul.

TĀL FRY, the brainchild of seven gifted musicians — Manohar Balatchandirane, Varun Rajasekharan, Ravinder Rajput, Soumendro Goswami, Mahavir Chandrawat, Saptak Sharma, and Aadarsh Nair — stands at a thrilling crossroads. Their work is not an act of rebellion against the hallowed rituals of Hindustani and Carnatic music; rather, it is an invitation to see tradition as evolutionary. "Tradition isn’t some fragile artifact locked behind glass," they argue. "It’s alive, breathing, and constantly evolving."

Similarly, Samad Khan, known both for his ethereal performances in Bandish Bandits and his moody indie tracks like "Khaali Khaali," describes his relationship with classical music as one of delicate recalibration. "I use classical motifs like a pinch of salt," he explains, "just enough to elevate the sound without overwhelming it." For Khan, the emphasis is less on genre-blending and more on ensuring that the emotional resonance of a track remains paramount — a philosophy that signals a new kind of fusion: one that feels inevitable rather than forced.

The Art of Sensory Translation

If traditional concerts prized solemnity, today's classical reimaginings are increasingly multisensory experiences. TĀL FRY embraces this reality with unflinching confidence, orchestrating performances where the tabla's resonance is complemented by a choreography of lights, and the mridangam's rolling cadence is mirrored by immersive visual journeys. "We live in an age of sensory overload," they admit. "A 'traditional' concert with just musicians on a dim stage is often not enough anymore."

Yet, rather than allowing the spectacle to overpower the sound, TĀL FRY approaches visual augmentation as a form of "translation." A flute’s glissando might be visually echoed by a streak of light sweeping across the stage, inviting audiences not merely to hear a note but to feel its trajectory. This deliberate, sensitive approach ensures that technology deepens, rather than dilutes, the emotive power of the music.

Samad Khan shares a parallel philosophy. On stage, he treats live performance as an intimate dialogue with the audience, deploying minimalism rather than excess. "Recording is about serving the song," he says. "But live? That's when I can showcase intricate classical vocals in ways that feel visceral and unforgettable." His performances are less about virtuosic display and more about making listeners internalise the slow, molten beauty of ragas within contemporary soundscapes.

Reimagining Authenticity in a Global Age

At the heart of these creative experiments lies a deeper philosophical question: what does authenticity mean in 2025? For TĀL FRY, authenticity is not about replication, but about a negotiated, dynamic relationship with tradition. Their music honours the "guru-shishya parampara" (the revered teacher-student lineage) while daring to insert cajóns, djembes, and synths alongside the tabla and mridangam.

"The rhythmic sophistication of Indian classical music," they explain, "deserves to endure — not by freezing it in time, but by translating its complexity into a broader, global sonic landscape." In their view, simplification for accessibility need not mean impoverishment. Thoughtful re-contextualisation can, in fact, illuminate the intricacies of tala structures and raga architectures for listeners unfamiliar with their depths.

Samad Khan echoes this sentiment, albeit in his own indie vernacular. Growing up juggling Hindustani training with a love for Linkin Park and Eminem, he once struggled to explain Indian classical music to his peers. Now, however, he sees cross-genre experimentation as a bridge, not a betrayal. "There's no rulebook," he shrugs. "As long as you retain the emotional essence, you’re doing justice to the music."

Both artists suggest that the very act of reinvention is itself a legacy — ensuring that Indian classical traditions are not static relics but living conversations between past and future.

From Cultural Negotiation to Global Conversation

Perhaps the most profound contribution of artists like TĀL FRY and Samad Khan is their ability to transform musical fusion from a cosmetic exercise into a genuine cultural negotiation. Within TĀL FRY's ensemble, each rehearsal becomes a site of negotiation: Hindustani meets Carnatic, ancient rhythmic cycles converse with global percussion, and purity dialogues with possibility. "Great fusion isn’t about smoothing edges," they insist. "It’s about finding the right edges to sharpen."

This sentiment is mirrored in Samad Khan's evolving collaborations with electronic producers and fellow boundary-pushers. His upcoming projects — collaborations with Bongoland, Bharath, Kimeraa, and ANYASA — span genres from Drum & Bass to ambient electronic, each venture a fresh exploration of what classical-rooted music can sound like in an age without borders.

Yet, for both TĀL FRY and Khan, the goal is not simply relevance. It is resonance. In an era of short attention spans and algorithmic playlists, they are challenging audiences to listen differently — to experience classical structures not as museum pieces, but as prisms through which new emotional landscapes can be glimpsed.

Theirs is a classical music for those who believe that heritage is not about preservation in amber but about constant reinvention. A music that recognises that authenticity, at its best, is not a static fidelity to form, but a radical, living conversation.

And in that act of fearless reimagination, they are ensuring that the last note of a raga, the final beat of a tala, will not merely echo into silence — but will transform into an invitation. An invitation to listen again, to feel anew, and to carry the tradition forward into landscapes yet unseen.