SPB–Ilaiyaraaja Forgotten Gems: Five Songs That Deserve to Be Rediscovered

Some masterpieces do not shout for attention. They do not dominate playlists, they do not trend every few months, and they may not be the first songs that come to mind when we talk about a legendary combination. They quietly sit in a corner, waiting to be rediscovered.

When we say SPB–Ilaiyaraaja, the mind immediately goes to the celebrated classics: “Ilaya Nila,” “Sangeetha Megam,” “Mandram Vandha Thendralukku,” and so many other unforgettable songs. These are songs that have travelled across generations and become part of our collective musical memory.

But this singer-composer combination is so vast that beyond the obvious hits, there are many songs that have slipped slightly out of regular conversation. They may not be the first songs we remember, but when we listen to them again, they make us wonder: “How did I miss this?”

That is exactly the idea behind this new Forgotten Gems segment within Oru Naal Podhuma.

The purpose is not to rank songs or declare a definitive “Top 5.” Instead, this is a discovery list — a way to revisit songs that deserve more love. In each theme, we will look at five songs and enjoy what makes them special: the lyrics, the orchestration, the singer’s contribution, the film situation, and little pieces of trivia that add to the joy of listening.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sHA2kiW3Uls

For the first edition, there could not have been a better theme:

SPB solo songs in Ilaiyaraaja’s music

These are songs that may not be sitting at the top of the hit list today, but they definitely deserve a place in the heart list.

Before getting into the songs, it is important to understand why the SPB–Ilaiyaraaja combination was such a formidable force in Tamil film music.

Ilaiyaraaja did not merely compose a tune for a hero to sing. He built the emotional architecture of a scene. He understood what the character was feeling, what the scene was not explicitly saying, and what emotion was running beneath the lyric. His music often revealed the inner life of the character.

SPB’s voice entered that musical space and gave it life.

His greatest strength was that he did not merely sing a song. He performed it. If the hero was happy, there was a smile in his voice. If the hero was heartbroken, there was pain. If the hero was teasing, there was mischief. If the hero was vulnerable, there was softness. Nothing felt forced; it always sounded natural.

That is why the SPB–Ilaiyaraaja combination was not just a singer-composer pairing. It was an emotional universe.

Here are five songs from that universe that deserve to be rediscovered.

1. “Andharangam Yaavume” — Aayiram Nilave Vaa

The first song in this list is “Andharangam Yaavume” from the 1983 film Aayiram Nilave Vaa.

This is a song filled with romance, teasing, and a certain intimate playfulness. The situation itself has a mischievous quality. It almost feels like Karthik is asking and answering his own romantic questions — one Karthik asking, another Karthik singing — and both voices are SPB’s. The song has the feel of a man describing his private romantic world with a mixture of pride, shyness, and delight.

SPB has a field day with this mood.

There is laughter. There is whisper-like intimacy. There is teasing. There are little vocal turns that make the song feel less like a polished studio track and more like a living conversation. When he says those playful interjections, he gives each one a slightly different shade. One sounds surprised, another sounds teasing, another has a shy smile hiding inside it.

That is SPB’s genius. He turns vocal expression into acting.

Musically, the song has a connection in mood and colour to “Neethaane Enthan Ponvasantham” from Ninaivellaam Nithya, also picturised on Karthik. Both songs share a similar soft romantic atmosphere, with Ilaiyaraaja using bass and flute beautifully. The Madhyamavathi flavour gives “Andharangam Yaavume” a sweetness, but this song is far more sensual in tone.

Pulamaipithan’s lyrics are direct and intimate, and Ilaiyaraaja responds with orchestration that never becomes crude. The romance is supported through texture — bass lines, flute phrases, and the way space is created around SPB’s voice.

One of the most interesting moments comes in the second interlude, where Ilaiyaraaja uses a funky, almost disco-flavoured solo violin phrase with bass backing. It is not the usual “violin equals sadness” treatment. Here the violin becomes stylish, urban, and slightly sensuous. It gives the song a different colour altogether.

What makes this song unforgettable is how completely SPB carries the scene. Karthik is on screen, but SPB has already done most of the acting through his voice.

Soft, sweet, romantic, teasing — this is a song that deserves to be heard again.

2. “Chinna Puraa Ondru” — Anbe Sangeetha

From sensual romance, we move to something deeply emotional.

“Chinna Puraa Ondru” from the 1979 film Anbe Sangeetha is not a conventional brother-sister affection song. It is a song of pain, betrayal, love, and helplessness.

The song is picturised on Thengai Srinivasan, and for many viewers, the visual may come as a surprise. We are so used to thinking of SPB as the voice of major romantic heroes that we sometimes forget how effortlessly his voice could suit different kinds of actors and characters. Here, he sings for a character actor with complete conviction.

The situation is heartbreaking. An elder brother sings about his sister, played by Radhika, who has moved away from him because of love. The pain is not just anger. It is the pain of someone who still loves the person who has hurt him.

Ilaiyaraaja establishes the emotional weight right from the opening piano. There is an immediate sense that this is not a simple sentimental number. Something is broken here.

S. P. Sailaja’s humming adds another haunting layer to the song. Technically, because there is humming, one may debate whether it is a pure solo. But since she does not sing independent lines, the emotional and lyrical weight of the song remains with SPB. The humming almost works like a ghostly presence.

The sister appears angelic in the brother’s eyes, but because of the betrayal he feels, that angelic presence also carries an eerie quality.

Vaali’s writing adds great emotional complexity. Even in betrayal, the brother wishes his sister well. That is what makes the song hurt more. The love has not disappeared; it has only been wounded.

Ilaiyaraaja uses strings in the interludes to intensify the inner turmoil. The music seems to reflect the brother’s mind — restless, hurt, and unable to let go. In the second interlude, a single violin is enough to squeeze out the sorrow.

SPB’s singing here is dramatic, and rightly so. This is not the soft, sophisticated SPB of “Mandram Vandha Thendralukku.” This is a different kind of performance. He sings in a style that suits Thengai Srinivasan’s screen presence and the heightened emotion of the scene.

One tiny detail makes the song especially moving. SPB does not harden the “ch” sound in “Chinna Puraa.” He softens it almost like “Sinna Puraa.” It is as if even the pronunciation is careful not to hurt the little dove he is singing about.

In that one softness, we hear affection, pain, anger, and concern.

This is emotional storytelling by two geniuses — Ilaiyaraaja and SPB.

Do not just watch this song. Listen to it.

3. “Naandhaanda Ippo Devadas” — Thanikkaattu Raja

Tamil cinema has given us many “drunk” songs. But when SPB sings one, the intoxication somehow reaches the listener too.

“Naandhaanda Ippo Devadas” from the 1982 film Thanikkaattu Raja is picturised on Rajinikanth after a love failure. The hero has had alcohol, and the song turns that heartbreak into a mixture of comedy, self-pity, swagger, and rhythm.

The song begins with SPB singing almost like a virutham, without the support of a full musical arrangement. There is a hiccup-like quality right at the start, establishing the mood before the rhythm fully takes over.

Ilaiyaraaja gives the song a danceable folk beat. That beat is one of the major reasons the song works. It keeps the song from becoming a sad lament. Instead, it becomes a drunken performance — lively, funny, and full of movement.

Vaali’s lyrics are packed with humour, and SPB attacks them with relish. Songs like this were tailor-made for him. Give him a playful situation, a character with emotional instability, and lyrics full of little comic turns, and he will simply enter the character completely.

There are moments where it almost feels as though SPB actually had a drink before singing — not because the singing is uncontrolled, but because the control is so perfect that it imitates lack of control.

That is the trick.

His voice wobbles where it has to wobble. It straightens where it has to land musically. It laughs, complains, boasts, and collapses, all while remaining perfectly within the rhythm and tune.

Rajinikanth provides the screen swagger. SPB provides the microphone wobble. The song needs both to work.

As the song progresses, the “sarakku level” seems to rise in the voice itself. By the time the character refers to yet another glass, SPB’s modulation has also travelled along with the character’s intoxication.

Every line has a small performative gem. This is not merely playback singing; this is playback acting.

For SPB fans, this song is a treat.

After the drunken energy of “Naandhaanda Ippo Devadas,” we move into a softer, more inward song.

4. “Vizhiyile Malarndhadhu” — Bhuvana Oru Kelvi Kuri

“Vizhiyile Malarndhadhu” from the 1977 film Bhuvana Oru Kelvi Kuri comes from Ilaiyaraaja’s early period. Even at that stage, we can hear how deeply he could use SPB’s voice to paint emotion.

The song begins with guitar. Then flute enters, carrying a folk flavour, and the rhythm gives the song an earthy, moving quality. At first, it appears to be a soft romantic song. Rajinikanth’s character sings about the woman he loves. But because of the story that follows, where the beloved dies, the song carries a faint bittersweet shadow. It has a quality that can remind one of later songs where love is already touched by loss.

Ilaiyaraaja’s handling of the pallavi is especially beautiful. There are speed variations within the melodic movement. The beat has a gentle bounce when the opening phrase arrives, but when the line moves into the more inward emotional space, the melody slows down. The song seems to breathe differently within the same pallavi.

There is also a ghazal-like touch in certain lines, especially when the tune and tabla-like rhythm bring in a softer, more Hindustani-flavoured emotional colour. The way the song returns from that mood back into the main phrase is seamless.

The first interlude is packed with ideas. There is a little dialogue-like exchange between flute and a melodica-like sound. Then comes a deeper flute colour, followed by energetic strings. It is remarkable how many textures Ilaiyaraaja fits into a single interlude without making it feel cluttered.

The charanam again brings that ghazal shade, supported by tabla patterns. SPB sings with complete earnestness. There is no teasing here, no sensual whisper, no drunken wobble, no comic touch. He sings like a sincere, well-behaved lover — almost a “chamathu paiyan.”

This suits the film context beautifully.

The film itself had a notable role reversal. Until then, Rajinikanth was largely associated with negative or grey-shaded roles, while Sivakumar was known for positive characters. In Bhuvana Oru Kelvi Kuri, director S. P. Muthuraman gave Rajinikanth a good-hearted role and Sivakumar a negative role. So this song also helps establish Rajinikanth’s character as gentle, loving, and sincere. There is no clowning, no exaggeration, no mischief. The song presents him as an affectionate lover.

The second interlude also shows Ilaiyaraaja’s early creative abundance. It is almost as if he is saying, “Let me pour in everything I know.” The string fillers that appear when SPB sings lift the song beautifully.

“Vizhiyile Malarndhadhu” may not be a song that announces itself instantly as a blockbuster. But listen to it patiently, and it quietly enters the heart.

5. “Theeraadha Vilaiyaattu Pillai” — Netrikkann

The final song in this list is also one of the most colourful.

“Theeraadha Vilaiyaattu Pillai” from the 1981 film Netrikkann is picturised on the older Rajinikanth character — a playful, flirtatious, morally questionable father figure in a double-action film. The younger Rajini is upright and straightforward. The older Rajini is the opposite: mischievous, indulgent, and full of playboy energy.

In this song, Ilaiyaraaja and SPB bring that character alive before our eyes.

The familiar phrase “Theeraadha Vilaiyaattu Pillai,” associated with Bharathiyar’s description of Krishna, is cleverly used in a very different cinematic context. On screen, the character appears in a mythological-style getup, with women around him, allowing the song to play with classical, devotional, theatrical, and mischievous registers all at once.

The song begins with chorus, setting up the atmosphere. Then comes the mridangam, and Ilaiyaraaja uses it in a delightfully unusual way. It does not simply create a classical base; it creates a playful, almost naughty mood. The mridangam itself seems to participate in the character’s mischief.

SPB changes his voice for the character. His laughter itself becomes stylised — not a normal laugh, but something slightly exaggerated, theatrical, and wickedly playful. That “ge ge ge” kind of laughter is not just a sound; it is characterisation.

This is also a brilliant fusion song. It begins with a classical flavour, but Ilaiyaraaja quickly moves into western textures. Drums, wah-wah guitar, and other rhythmic touches continue the same playful mood in a different musical language. The shift does not feel like a break. It feels like the character moving from one costume to another.

SPB’s spoken portions are especially enjoyable. Usually, his speaking voice often seems to suit Kamal Haasan perfectly. But here, he makes it fit Rajinikanth’s character. When he speaks lines in the song, the voice carries the exact kind of swagger and mischief needed for the older Rajini character.

Between those spoken lines, Ilaiyaraaja places instrumental responses — little reveals, little bursts of sound, little rhythmic gestures. It is as though the music itself is exposing the character’s wandering mind.

In the second interlude, the violin variations are wonderful. Different violin phrases appear with distinct shapes and moods, showing again how much imagination Ilaiyaraaja could pack into a film song interlude.

This song is classical mischief, cinematic fusion, and SPB-style vocal acting rolled into one.

It is the perfect closing song for this discovery list.

The Unexpected Rajinikanth Connection in the Forgotten Gems

When these five songs were selected, the intention was not to choose Rajinikanth songs. But looking at the final list, an interesting coincidence appears: three out of the five songs are picturised on Superstar Rajinikanth.

That says something important.

Today, when people think of Rajinikanth songs, they often think of mass intro songs, punch songs, and style-driven numbers. But in his early career, especially in Ilaiyaraaja’s music, there were many different shades of Rajinikanth on screen.

There was romantic Rajini. Vulnerable Rajini. Drunken love-failure Rajini. Mischievous playboy Rajini.

In those songs, SPB’s voice acted as a bridge. Even when Rajinikanth was on screen, SPB’s voice made the character believable. He did not mimic Rajinikanth. Instead, he captured what the character needed — innocence, swagger, pain, humour, or mischief.

That is the larger magic we see across this list.

“Andharangam Yaavume” gives us sensual teasing.

“Chinna Puraa Ondru” gives us the pain of betrayal.

“Naandhaanda Ippo Devadas” gives us drunken comedy.

“Vizhiyile Malarndhadhu” gives us soft romance with a bittersweet shadow.

“Theeraadha Vilaiyaattu Pillai” gives us classical mischief with full playboy energy.

Five songs. Five emotional colours. One extraordinary combination.

These are not the “Top 5” SPB–Ilaiyaraaja songs. This is only the first discovery list.

The algorithm may forget.

But how could we?

There are many more such musical gems waiting to be brought back into conversation. If there is an SPB–Ilaiyaraaja song that you feel is beautiful but not discussed enough, it deserves to be heard, shared, and remembered.

Because some songs may not have gone viral.

That does not mean they are not valuable.