Saregama «FAST»

Furthermore, Saregama has finally embraced the remix culture it once despised. Recognizing that a bad remix of a classic brings attention back to the original, the label now licenses its stems to EDM producers in Mumbai and Los Angeles. It is a delicate dance: preserve the heritage, but cash the check. Walking through the Saregama office is a disorienting experience. In one corner, a 24-year-old social media manager is creating a "Lofi Beats to Study to" playlist featuring 1950s jazz. In the other, a preservationist is manually cleaning a master tape of a Pankaj Mullick song from 1939.

In 2023 and 2024, Saregama made headlines by pulling its entire catalog from platforms like Spotify and Wynk during royalty disputes. This is the nuclear option. When Saregama withdraws its music, Spotify loses the "Old Hindi" genre entirely. Suddenly, users realize that their "Golden Era" playlist is empty. saregama

Saregama’s CEO, Vikram Mehra, has played this game masterfully. He understands that for a global streamer, Old Hindi music is not a niche—it is the second most streamed genre behind current Bollywood. Without Saregama, Spotify is just a podcast app. Furthermore, Saregama has finally embraced the remix culture

To the tech world, Carvaan looked like a joke: a bulky, plastic portable speaker with no Bluetooth (initially) and no screen. It had just one function: play 5,000 pre-loaded Saregama songs. You couldn't change the playlist. You couldn't skip the sad songs if you wanted to. It was the anti-Spotify. Walking through the Saregama office is a disorienting

Saregama is not just a record label. It is India's collective auditory memory—and it is charging rent for you to live inside it.

But Saregama is not a museum. It is a sleeping giant that woke up to find itself the most powerful player in a $2.5 billion Indian music streaming war. How did a company that sold physical records of Bhakti hymns survive the cassette, the CD, the MP3, and the pandemic? The answer lies in the peculiar economics of nostalgia and the "R.D. Burman Tax." To understand Saregama, you have to erase the modern understanding of music piracy. In 1902, when the Gramophone Company of India set up shop, piracy meant a rival label physically stamping your disc. The company’s first major coup was convincing Gauhar Jaan, a legendary courtesan of Calcutta, to sing into a horn. That recording—"Jogiya"—became the first commercial record in South Asia.

For decades, the company was a colonial conduit, pressing records for the British officers stationed in Shimla. But in the 1930s, it discovered its true purpose: Bollywood. By the time it rebranded to "Saregama" (named after the musical notes Sa, Re, Ga, Ma) in the early 2000s, it had swallowed up the back catalogs of HMV, Times Music, and a dozen defunct regional labels.