The first five minutes are as moving a Bhairav / Mayamalagowlam as you will hear.
A beautiful tribute to the maestro:
Although barely literate, Mansur understood the value of musical contemplation much deeper than seasoned academics. For him, singing was an encounter with memory which involved invoking all that he had absorbed from his guru as well as from his contemporaries. He was an archivist of a precious tradition that few had the gifts to retain. His career unfolded with a certainty of purpose, not just with determined ambitiousness — he was a tireless assimilator and disseminator of history. He was also fortunate to have been born in the cusp of modernity, when changing systems of patronage were pushing court musicians into the concert space and a new intellectual ethos for classical music was being carved out in Maharashtra alongside popular appreciation of natyasangeet or abhang. The towering influence of musicologists like Srikrishna Ratanjankar or Vishnu Narayan Bhatkhande coexisted with the sensuous prose of critics like Govindrao Tembe.
We are fortunate that Mansur has left us many recordings, at once learned and full of insight. In his centenary year, as we grapple with a deepening cultural amnesia, we have another reason to be thankful to him — for embodying the fleeting spirit of a forgotten age.