Treekam: The sound that time forgot (until now)

When the legendary U. Srinivas first picked up a mandolin, he probably never imagined his musical DNA would one day collide with thousand-year-old Naga chants in a recording studio. When tribal elders in Nagaland’s hills sang their ancestral songs, they couldn’t have pictured those melodies flowing through Strandberg guitars and Spyro Gyra keyboards.

But here we are. A South Indian classical virtuoso, a competition-winning guitarist from Nagaland’s mountains, Janet Jackson’s drummer, a UK session legend, and a jazz fusion icon sitting in a studio, attempting something that sounds insane: translate ancient memory into electric current.

Treekam. Five tracks. Three countries. One impossible conversation that somehow works.

When mountains meet the ocean breeze

“Our traditional songs have been echoed through generations,” Arenlong says, his fingers finding patterns on his guitar that exist nowhere else in contemporary music. “The first songs I ever heard were when I was very small. We would visit our village, Longkum, in the hills of Mokokchung district, and in cultural programmes or festivals, songs were always an integral part.”

But here’s where it gets interesting. When Abhay Nayampally—disciple of the late mandolin god U. Srinivas, an artiste whose solo album hit number one on iTunes India—first heard those ancient Naga melodies, something clicked that defies music theory. “When I first heard it, ragas like Bilahari, Mohanam just popped instantly out to converse with those chants. I didn’t for an instant try to analyse or overthink that instinct.”

The opening track, “Spunky Town”, throws you straight into this collision. J-Rod Sullivan—who’s drummed for Janet Jackson, Jeffrey Osborne, the 4 Korners, and pretty much everyone who matters in contemporary R&B—lays down a groove that’s part gospel, part street funk, pure kinetic energy. Over that, Abhay’s Carnatic-trained fingers find electric pathways that shouldn’t exist. “The guitar has been one of my favourite instruments as long as I can remember, and so too has been Carnatic music. Putting the two together was a dream come true.”

But it’s Seb Read’s bass that makes it breathe. UK-based Read, known for his uncanny ability to place notes exactly where they’ll hit deepest, anchors these impossible conversations. You can hear him thinking, responding, conversing with sounds his musical DNA never prepared him for.

The Nagaland you never knew

Here’s what most of India, well, most of the world, doesn’t know about Nagaland: this isn’t just another “tribal” story. This is about a musical sophistication that rivals any classical tradition. “Naga traditional songs have some fundamental notes, particularly of the pentatonic scale, which can be found in most of them,” Arenlong explains, but that clinical description misses the point entirely.

Listen to the album’s closer, “Zakto Tssoa”; the title alone tells you you’re entering sonic territory most Indians have never experienced. Glassy, bell-like sounds float over J-Rod’s measured beats, creating spaces where ancient melodies can breathe in 2025. Traditional Nagaland folkloric vocals by Mengu Suokhrie weave through the mix, not as exotic seasoning but as equal partners in musical dialogue.

“Translating the vocal chants and songs was interesting and challenging,” Arenlong admits. “The challenging part was gathering any available resources that I could get my hands on. But as someone who writes solos by taking inspiration from a singer's perspective, translating them into the guitar didn’t take long.”

This isn’t cultural tourism. This is cultural diplomacy at the highest level. Theja Meru, Chairman of Nagaland’s Task Force for Music & Arts, gets it: “Treekam is a shining example of how Nagaland’s music can travel beyond borders while staying deeply rooted in our heritage. TaFMA has always believed in building platforms that connect our musicians to the global stage.”

The jazz fusion heavyweight

Then there’s the moment that changes everything: Tom Schuman enters “Swan Song.” If you know contemporary jazz, you know that name. Founding keyboardist of Spyro Gyra, 13-time Grammy nominee, an artiste who’s been bending genres since before “world music” was even a category. His first encounter with this project? Pure emotional overload.

“My imagination runs wild whenever I hear instrumental music. Especially the music of India,” Schuman says. “The guitar melodies and drum groove on ‘Swan Song’ gave me a feeling of loving kindness and hope. So my sound palette going in started with a positive attitude. I imagined walking through the streets of Mumbai, watching happy people throw colours during Holi.”

When Schuman’s keyboards cascade over Abhay’s ragas and Arenlong’s tribal-inflected guitar work, something unprecedented happens. This isn’t East-meets-West fusion—it’s something entirely new. A musical language that didn’t exist before these five musicians found each other.

“All I can say is, I feel blessed and humbled beyond words!” Schuman reflects. “Working with Sandeep has been a dream for me. He saved me from my musical depression and gave me a fresh start towards a higher standard!”

That’s Sandeep Chowta, the sonic architect whose film work spans Hindi and Telugu cinema, but whose real passion lies in projects like this. Through his label Namma Music, he has produced nearly 50 albums, nurturing India’s non-film music scene and building a parallel legacy in jazz and instrumental work, including the landmark Matters of the Heart (2013) with leading contemporary jazz artists. As co-producer with cultural curator Arpito Gope, he’s created what he calls “a space where ancient voices could speak in modern tongues.”

The northeast awakening

Arpito has been working with Northeast governments for sixteen years, watching what he calls “the flowers blooming.” More success stories, collaborations, and headlines. “Because of the steps taken by the Nagaland Government through the TaFMA, all of us have been able to come together and make Treekam happen. If there were no TaFMA, I wouldn’t have been able to do so much with Nagaland’s culture.”

But here’s the revolutionary part: they kept it instrumental. In a country obsessed with lyrical content, with making every song “meaningful” through words, Treekam communicates through pure sound. “The idea was to bring two cultures together through the melodic route,” Arpito explains. “Language would have been another layer, and we wanted the album to be universal in appeal. We did not want the listener to think Oh, I do not understand what it means.”

“Blending Tunes” proves the point. Crisp percussion, shining leads, electronic sheen wrapped around Naga folk rhythms. It’s futuristic and ancient simultaneously, constantly darting forward, pausing briefly, then bursting back with even brighter energy. You don’t need to understand Nagamese or Tamil or Sanskrit to feel what’s happening.

The deeper conversation

India often treats ‘folk’ as museum pieces. But as Arpito points out, “Folk music also has layers and if we see the different layers we will be able to give it different colour and make it contemporary as well for the younger generation to appreciate and discover.”

That’s exactly what happens on “Divine Directions”. Quiet confidence, immediate beats, soft chords carrying warmth. It cycles between grounded stillness and gentle illumination, never peaking too high but radiating a steady glow. This is how you honour tradition while pushing it forward; not by preserving it in amber, but by proving it’s still alive, still evolving, still capable of surprise.

The collaborative spirit runs deep. “My goal was pretty clear from the beginning for Treekam,” Arenlong says. “This was about fusing two cultures in a way that sounded as one entity and came up with a fresh sound. So competition was never a thought; rather, it was more about feeding what was required on all the songs.”

That generosity of spirit comes through in every track. When J-Rod’s drum tracks first arrived, Abhay was stunned: “The moment the first drum tracks came through, it completely elevated the dialogue within the song and acted as a catalyst to many new ideas popping up in terms of approach to playing and composition.”

The Guru’s shadow

Everything circles back to Abhay’s guru, the late U. Srinivas, whose influence shapes not just the music but the entire approach. “The most important influence he’s had on my life was his absolute humility despite the dizzying heights of his sheer unparalleled musicality, skill and achievements,” Abhay reflects. “If someone as legendary as Guru U Shrinivasji could always be in a state of humble learning, it teaches all of us students of music the need to constantly strive to be a student rather than strive to be a maestro.”

That humility infuses every moment of Treekam. These are master musicians serving the music, not showing off. “As far as classical training goes, discipline in itself is the pathway to true freedom,” Abhay says. “If one plays in a disciplined and aesthetic manner, freedom is but a by-product.”

The freedom is audible. Electric guitars singing in scales that predate the Mughal Empire. Tribal memories finding expression through solid-body Stratocasters. Jazz fusion legends discovering new emotional territories through South Indian mathematics and Naga spirit songs.

What comes next

“My primary wish from the audience is that it makes them happy,” Abhay says. “Music moves us all in so many different ways, reacting to each one’s own personal story in that specific manner. Music has the incredibly unparalleled quality of being a million different stories to a million different people.”

Treekam doesn’t explain itself. It just exists: five tracks of impossible music that somehow make perfect sense. In a world split by cultural, political, and linguistic borders, it proves that some conversations cut through the noise. The Northeast is rising, not only in economics or politics, but in culture too. Treekam lands less like an album and more like a statement of intent: the margins are moving to the centre, and forgotten voices are finding new ways to sing.