Simply a master of the bansuri

For most Westerners, Indian classical music begins with the sitar and ends with the tabla. More aware listeners may also be familiar with the lute-like sarod and the double-reed shenai. But few are familiar with the bansuri, or bamboo flute -- a primitive instrument that is nonetheless capable of expressing (and stimulating) deeply affecting emotions.

Hari Prasad Chaurasia is arguably the greatest master of North Indian bansuri playing. And his performance at the Skirball Center on Thursday was both an introduction to his instrument and a demonstration of its capacity to move freely from classical-style raga playing to lighthearted, traditional melodies.

The bansuri is essentially nothing more than a hollow piece of bamboo with holes pierced for fingers and for blowing. Every sound the instrument produces results from the careful manipulation of fingers -- slightly covering holes to produce subtle pitch changes, sliding smoothly to create glissandos -- and from the precise application of streams of air across the blowing hole.

Chaurasia immediately revealed his remarkable virtuosity with this simple device in his opening alap, the cadenza-like solo that introduces a raga. Playing with a warm, embracing sound, he produced long, flowing melodies filled with passionately engaging moments.

When he was joined by tabla artist Vijay Ghate in improvised jod and jhala passages, Chaurasia’s soloing was driven by an unusually lively sense of rhythmic swing, energized by brisk, double-time syncopations.

In fact, some of his lines, if delivered in the context of a Western setting, could have fit easily into a straight-ahead jazz context.