Things have come to such a pass that one should no longer be surprised if a live performance of any sort in the city does not start on time. Chances are that even if you are late, you will not have to worry about missing any part of the show. Being forewarned, however, might not prevent you from getting peeved at the unapologetic tardiness that inevitably accompanies live shows in Calcutta these days. So I was already irritable by the time the concert, titled Parampara — performed at the Ashutosh Centenary Hall of the Indian Museum on July 13 — started. It began almost an hour late.

All my testiness disappeared once the veteran lok sangeet singer, Amar Pal (picture; the photograph is not of the concert), sang the first few notes of the song, “Rai jago go, jago shyamer monomohini binodini”. What hits — and humbles — you first is the calm confidence that Pal exudes from his slight frame; he commands your respect without uttering a word or making any sort of movement. And when he sings, his audience is held in thrall by his 91-year-old voice. When he sang “Rai jago” — which he introduced to the audience as an early morning wake up song sung in the biting cold in the month of Kartik in a village — his voice was like coarse honey, stinging and soothing at the same time. His skilful engagement with the raw emotions and colour that characterize palligeeti was evident when he sang the kirtan, “Ogo noidabashi”. His career spans more decades than many people live; all the other gentlemen on the stage — including the master of ceremonies, Shankarlal Bhattacharya, and the young lok sangeet singer, Tapan Ray — were visibly in awe of Pal. In between performances, Bhattacharya engaged in conversation with Pal and Ray; listening to Pal speak without any airs about everything, from the evolution of the sramik’s song to the importance of the river in this form of music, was enriching.

Ray’s performances were interspersed with Pal’s. Sharing a stage with an institution like the latter did not hinder Ray’s performance. His rendition of Lalan Fakir’s “Barir pashe Arshinagar” was uninhibited and confident. It was also a tad too loud, but that wasn’t Ray’s fault; the acoustics in the auditorium were terrible. Often, it is difficult for performers onstage to gauge how they sound to the audience. Ray had that problem throughout the show; all his performances, including his rendition of the baul song, “Mon pakhi”, were raw and powerful, but the awry acoustics marred the experience.

Two of the best performances of the evening were Pal’s renditions of the bhatiali song, “Chotur goalini rosher binodini”, and a hugely exuberant song by Kazi Pir about brotherhood among religious communities. His eyes sparkled mischievously even as his undulating, earthy voice, laden with the strength of his age, deftly tackled the playful notes of the songs. By the end of the show, I was left with the belief that for those who wish to learn more about palligeeti, the Ashutosh Centenary Hall on July 13 would have been a good place to start.