I can’t bear to listen to myself in Kaho Naa…Pyaar Hai any more. It’s like a Test player watching a Ranji beginner bat.” At a city hotel on the day his third solo album Untitled (Universal Music) would be launched on air, this is how Babul Supriyo looks back on the biggest break of his career nine years ago.

Since then, the music scene has evolved. “Today, Sa means 440 Hz. You hit the tuning fork at that frequency and you get Sa. That’s how they correct sounds on a computer. Music has become a studio job,” Babul says. That also means a song requires Rs 2 lakh-plus to be recorded.

This sound, he says, can never be replicated in a live show. “People ‘see’ music today. That’s why organisers can’t afford to have live musicians on stage. Why, even the speakers are hidden, lest they block the camera angle or the sponsor’s logo!” Babul claims he refuses offers of minus-one performances (singing to a recorded track). “You can’t interact with the audience or repeat a line at will.” But in the same breath, Babul admits falling in line for televised awards nights where the singer has to even move in step with dancers and the camera.

“You have to adapt or you will get extinct like the dinosaurs,” he says sagely. There are more changes that he seems resigned to. “There are two kinds of singers today — famous and good. Raghu Dixit and Rahat Fateh Ali Khan are fantastic voices. But there’s Atif Aslam, who can’t sing a note yet gets paid a lakh for a song. The same producers won’t pay us more than Rs 20-25,000.”

Another phenomenon that has jolted him is Himesh Reshammiya. “Once Shaan and I were sitting at an FM channel’s studio. Himesh’s new album Aashiq Banaya Aapne was lying on the table alongside his letter requesting that it be played on air. All of us had a good laugh over the…” Babul stops to do the nasal calisthenics. “But in 15 days, the song became such a rage that my songs were wiped off the charts though I was the artiste of the week. Today, people are spending Rs 20-25 crore on a film with him. But tell me, would you call him a singer?”

Musicians may sell records, but they can’t sell brands, rues Babul. “First, they had film stars endorsing products, then it was the turn of cricketers. When even lesser names like Irfan Pathan began appearing in ads, I thought musicians would be next in line. But a dog (in the Vodafone ads) sneaked in. When I inquired for a pug for my daughter I was told their rate had shot up from Rs 22,000 to Rs 45,000,” Babul smiles.

With the solo albums of KK and Sonu Nigam being officially declared flops, isn’t yet another solo from a playback singer a risk? Babul agrees, but stresses that he’s put his soul into Untitled. “There are no well-defined genres in India like rock or pop… Let’s say it has 10 good songs,” he says.

Untitled is indeed a collage of ballads, folk melodies and remixed foot-tappers. To demarcate them, he has clubbed the 10 songs under three different headings. Those who liked the melody of Sochta hoon, the title song of his first solo album, would also love Gungunade and Yaadein. If the first sounds familiar, doff your hat to Mohiner Ghoraguli. “We have taken permission to use the melody of Dhandhar thekeo jotil tumi.” Another (authorised) adaptation is Tu aa bhi jaa from Patience by Take That. “There are but 12 notes. How much can you play around?” Babul shrugs.