Do You Wanna Get Rocked?

I've reached that stage in my life when I try and act like I know nothing about contemporary music and that I would have none of it. Why, I surprised myself the other day when I caught myself saying, " I don't understand how people subject themselves to so much of shit in the name of music."

That however doesn't stop me from forgetting the songs and bands I once loved. Have you ever experienced that strange feeling when you seem to remember the lyrics by heart but cant for the life of you remember the the blasted name of the band or artist who sang it?

I guess its because you never choose the songs or bands you love. They choose you, depending on the state of your life when you first listen to them. Before I totally forget the bands that I once claimed to have loved, I thought it's best to make this list, and save for its preposterity. So here's what I was doing when I first heard these bands, before it was love at first sound byte:

Metallica: Loved them because it was cool to do so as a freshman.

Rolling Stones: Learned to love them because Metallica was only meant for freshmen.

The Who: If a band got a mention in Fundamentals of Physics by Resnik & Halliday, they had to be cool right?

Iron Maiden: I loved this one simply because they had an album named after a book which I'd later go on to read.

The Doors: Well, I just loved the band even before I heard a song they played, simply because they named themselves after a literary work I'd never go on to read.

Bob Dylan: I loved this man because his songs actually qualified for literary work, listening to which would save me the effort of reading anything.

Deep Purple: Loved them because they composed the song that was used in the Philips Powerhouse commercial

Led Zeppelin: Loved them because they wrote songs about Lord of The Rings, which was a super cool movie way back in 2002.

Jimi Hendrix: Loved him because he gave me enough to air guitar my way through second year.

The Kinks: More Air Guitar. My performance of "You really got me going" would have got an encore in any air guitaring concert.

Simon & Garfunkel: Loved this band, more so after it gave me a name for this blog.

Beatles: Loved the band, simply because for the first time, I couldn't justify my love for their music. And thankfully, never needed to.

We Didn't Start The Spoofing

I've always wanted to write my own version of this Billy Joel song. But thought it's just easier to spoof it.
So sing it to the tune of  We Didn't Start The Fire

When Billy Joel wrote this song, we found it really long,
It was way before our time, with a little sense of rhyme,
As we grew we understood, it was stuff that's really good
A History lesson of his time, a long list with little rhyme

What it really helped us do, was make us believe we can too,
Write a song that's just a list, with the odd rhyme but no twist,
There was one change though, History really had to go,
The topics would only range, from bizarre to very strange 

We didn’t start the spoofing
It was always with us
Since the song had hit us
We didn’t start the spoofing
Oh, we never knew it,
But we want to do it

Now you can write these lyrics too, here's what you got to do
Make a list of things you know, rhyme along as you go,
The song has an easy tune, that you'll sing from July to June,
Sing it till your lungs go dry, and your tonsils start to cry

So make a list of things you like, or a list that'll totally psyche, 
Politics or pop art, even some marketing fart,
Try to be a little clever, change your subject to whatever,
Or like a bunch of nerds, sing something totally absurd 

We didn’t start the spoofing
It was always with us
Since the song had hit us
We didn’t start the spoofing
Oh, we never knew it,
But we want to do it

As addictive as meth, spoofing this is done to death,
But it's fun as you can see, and easy as A, B, C,
If the song runs off course, let it not kill your driving force,
Take it till you go wrong, and close it like any silly song

We didn’t start the spoofing
It was always with us
Since the song had hit us
We didn’t start the spoofing
Oh, we never knew it,
But we want to do it.
 

There’s a void in the batting, dear Srini

The following are the excerpts of the confidential discussions between Indian Skipper Dhoni and BCCI Head Honcho N Srinivasan. Also note that the following excerpts could be sung to the tune of ‘There’s a hole in the bucket’.

There’s a void in the batting, dear Srini, dear Srini,
There’s a void in the batting, dear Srini, a void,
Then win with your bowling, dear Dhoni, dear Dhoni,  
Then win with your bowling, dear Dhoni, your bowling,
The pacers are injured, dear Srini, dear Srini,
The pacers are injured, dear Srini, injured,
Then win with your spinners, dear Dhoni, dear Dhoni,
Then win with your spinners, dear Dhoni, spinners,
There’s no turn on the pitches, dear Srini, dear Srini,
There’s no turn on the pitches, dear Srini, no turn,
(A request is now placed with the curator at Motera, Ahmedabad)
Now win at Motera, dear Dhoni, dear Dhoni,
Now win at Motera, dear Dhoni, at Motera,
(India win by nine wickets at Motera, but there’s still a complaint)
There was no bounce at Motera, dear Srini, dear Srini,
There was no bounce at Motera, dear Srini, no bounce,
(A request was placed with the curator at Wankhede, Mumbai)
Now win at Wankhede, dear Dhoni, dear Dhoni,
Now win at Wankhede, dear Dhoni, Wankhede,
(India beaten comprehensively at Wankhede, so Dhoni comes sulking)
No win at Wankhede, dear Srini, dear Srini,
No win at Wankhede, dear Sirni, no win,
Just bat carefully at Eden, dear Dhoni, dear Dhoni,
Just bat carefully at Eden, dear Dhoni, just bat,
(India lose comprehensively again, Dhoni come sulking again)
There’s a void in the batting, dear Srini, dear Srini,
There’s a void in the batting, dear Srini, a void.

The Battered Hymn of the Democracy

(This was written to the tune of Battle Hymn of the Republic)

Mine eyes have seen the folly called election of the president,
Which is usually a post that involves only giving your consent,
But the parties behaved as if its more for future than present,
And they all kept muttering on,

Sorry! Sorry! PA Sangma,
You'll be going back home to mama,
'Cause Raisana prepares for a drama,
As Pranab da marches on,

It should rightfully be Kalam, that's what the public really said,
But this was a news that filled the ears of UPA with dread,
With Kalam in the picture they were simply losing their heads,
So the presidential race was on,

Sorry! Sorry! Dear A - P - J,
We wanted to see you have a field day,
"I Wont Race", you said, and you had it your way,
As Pranab da marches on,

So congrats Pranab dada, you've found your way to win,
Even though Mamata didi almost made your margin thin,
Now practice your signature even before your term begins,
As reality will soon dawn,

Glory! Glory! President in waiting,
You'll deal with stuff that's more irritating,
After 5 years, you may find it suffocating,
As Indian politics blunders on.

I'm Delhite and you know it!!

Been a while since I've done this. and I needed a prey. So the loud delhi boy it is.
Yes, the one that usually calls for a mother sister reunion whereever he goes.

Oye

I walk on by, gurls be looking like what a guy!

I pump the Bhangra beat, with guys next to me in my SUV seat, yaar

Now toh tum Bol, glasses with tint, pants so cool,

It's the Gucci with the big ass torso

And a Khan Market belt that got the glow

Gurl, look at my Audi,(x 3)

Check it out

Gurl, look at my Audi,(x 3)

Check it out

When I walk into a bar, this is what I see

People turn around and they glaring at me

I've only got 500s in my wallet and I aint afraid to show it, show it, show it.

I'm Delhite and you know it. (x 2)

Thank you for the music.

Music expresses that which can not be said and on which it is impossible to be silent. Nobody described music better than Victor Hugo. And since I cannot write anything as profound to describe any of the albums below, I'll keep it down to one sentence each. The rules of this Facebook Tag are 15 minutes (no more) to name your 15 favourite albums. Here goes:

The Beatles – Abbey Road

Their last album, which begins with Come Together. How apt.

Pink Floyd – Dark Side of the Moon

Cannot listen to just one track from this album and leave the rest.

Led Zeppelin IV

Clearly helped the band to be a rock, and not roll.

Pearl Jam – Ten

Have had the discography on me for half a decade, but I've never gone beyond their first album

Prodigy – Fat of the Land

90s, during my teen years, I had to love a band that came up with Smack my bitch up, even though I didn’t know what that really meant.

Kasabian – Kasabian

In an age when MTV plays anything but music, this album is the most definitive IV shot in music’s arm.

Massive Attack – Mezzanine

The first time I heard it in ‘07, I took the plunge, and I’m still immersed in it.

Bob Dylan 30th anniversary concert

When Tracy Chapman pays tribute to Dylan’s village folk days, and Johnny Cash and June Carter relate his Country leanings, while Clapton covers his experiments with Blues, you Don’t Think Twice.

AC/DC - Back in Black

When one of the loudest albums of all time features a number called Rock And Roll Ain't Noise Pollution, you have to admire this 'metal' band and their attempt at irony.

Metallica – Black

Many critics have blasted this album saying it was meant for losers. Boy, am I glad I was one.

U2 – Joshua Tree

If there’s one album that defines what really drove the band, it’s this one. I still haven’t found what I’m looking for…

RATM – Battle of Los Angeles

When you want to flash your digitus impudicus to the world, this is the album you play.

Nirvana – Never Mind

Funnily, my introduction to rock music was Come as you are. And here I am.

Simon & Garfunkel – Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme

But all my words come back to me in shades of mediocrity Like emptiness in harmony I need someone to comfort me. Need I say more?

Simon & Garfunkel – Bridge Over Troubled Water

When you're down and out, When you're on the street, When evening falls so hard, I will comfort you
This album still has that kind of an effect on me.

It ain't me, babe.

There was a time when I dreamt of writing for Rolling Stone. Those were years of innocence; of confidence in your own abilities, and of believing that the world has faith in you. But that little shining bubble of mine vanished the minute I heard this prick of a song -

You might be a rock 'n' roll addict prancing on the stage,
You might have drugs at your command,
Women in a cage,
You may be a business man or some high degree thief,
They may call you Doctor or they may call you Chief

But you're gonna have to serve somebody,

That's the kind of influence Dylan exercised on his fans. He'd make you believe in life with one song and then present a complete volt face with the next one. Lift your spirits with one song and then play turncoat while talking about it. Talk about being a two-faced Gemini.

And how many deaths will it take till we know,
that too many people have died?

The answer my friend is blowing in the wind,
the answer is blowing in the wind.



It supposedly took Dylan about 10 minutes to write this one. He put words to the melody of an old slave song called No More Auction Block. The following evening, Dylan took the song to a nightclub in Greenwich Village, where he was due to play a set. Before playing it, he announced, "This here ain't no protest song or anything like that, 'cause I don't write no protest songs."
This was getting caught off-guard of Everestine proportions. Very much like computer teachers in the 90s, when they demonstrated the use of the internet and keyed in www.whitehouse.com

So long, honey babe
Where I'm bound, I can't tell
Goodbye's too good a word, babe
So I'll just say fare thee well
I ain't saying you treated me unkind
You could have done better but I don't mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don't think twice, it's all right.

And here's what the man had to say, "A lot of people make it sort of a love song - slow and easygoing. But it isn't a love song. It's a statement that maybe you can say something to make yourself feel better. It's as if you were talking to yourself."
It sure made me feel like I was on the top of the world, just after getting dumped.


She takes just like a woman, yes, she does
She makes love just like a woman, yes, she does
And she aches just like a woman
But she breaks just like a little girl

This song sent women's groups on a critical overdrive, because of its disparaging lyrics. I wonder if he tried to point out the difference in being old enough to have a child, and being old enough to be a mother.

I believe no other artist had garnered as much fame in denial, as Dylan had. When he was knighted the king of rock, he quietly turned to country. When they believed he was the voice of the anti-establishment movement, he let big establishments use his his music for commercials. Without his influence, the Beatles would probably have been held in as much regard now, as Backstreet Boys will 30 years from now. And yet, he chose not to speak of those days in his memoirs, like Bill Clinton would in a Cigar Convention.

I guess it takes a Bob Dylan to be what everybody dreams of becoming, and turn astray. To get his fans swear by him, only to betray later. To put it in his style of denial, if he hadn't believed in himself, Bob Dylan would've been an atheist.


Who will promise never to part,
Someone to close his eyes for you,
Someone to close his heart,
Someone who will die for you an' more,
But it ain't me, babe,
No, no, no, it ain't me, babe,
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe.

Air Guitar Tips – No Strings Attached!

Here’s talent that’s hardly taken seriously. Ask connoisseurs of this art form, and they’ll have you believe that Air Guitaring, far from being tongue in cheek, is about the tongue being brandished openly and unabashedly, Kiss-style. Suffice it to say, it is an art form whose time is yet to come.

Air guitars, though never seen, are believed to be quite similar to an electric guitar, the notable difference being that it is indeed, made entirely of air. And while it certainly seems easier to master than the conventional one, Air Guitaring has just about one... no, make that two prerequisites – observation and imagination.

When a great 6-year old philosopher once said, “Why bother with years of hard work in pursuit of knowledge, when ignorance is instantaneous?”, he was certainly not talking about air guitaring. Yours truly, having watched several maestros and their air guitars (figuratively speaking) since his days of doing-absolutely-nothing in Manipal, will say that there is more to it than what meets the eye.

The first, and only rule is to overcome your inhibitions. Just as it is with singing, writing, dancing, or even … errr… how do I put it… being great in bed.

Begin by watching others around you. And you’ll easily separate the wheat from the chaff. Most pseudo air guitarists feel conscious, give up playing once they see you observing them, and just relegate themselves to that absolute ‘pain-in-the-neck’ – headbanging! The virtuoso air guitarist is completely oblivious of the people around. Either he’s too engrossed in his performance, or he’s too sloshed to be conscious of his activities.

Air Guitaring is more about understanding the song than the audience. If a song doesn’t inspire you enough or send you on an ‘interstellar overdrive’ in your mind, it’ll never get you to ‘pick up’ your air guitar.

The trick is in choosing the right song. You cannot Air Guitar to N sync, or to 50 cent, not unless you have just consumed Columbia’s gross domestic product by the truckloads.

So start with a good ol’ AC/DC. Or Metallica. Just avoid singing while you are air guitaring. Afterall, Bob Dylan would never cover a Jessica Simpson chartbuster, right?

And once you begin, even if you do screw up, you’ll only stand a good chance of becoming as glamorous as the corner barstool in your favourite watering hole. So, Don’t fret! Just wake up the Pete Townshend in you!

I am a rock

Just got tagged by Perf & Shitty. And boy! It was fun!

Instructions read: Using only song *titles* from one artist, cleverly answer these questions

Pick a band/artist: Simon & Garfunkel

1. Are you a male or female: Most peculiar man

2. Describe yourself: I’m a rock

3. How do you feel about yourself: feeling groovy

4. Describe your ex boyfriend/girlfriend: old friends

5. Describe your current boy/girl situation: Bridge over troubled waters

6. Describe your current location: Can't help but wonder where I'm bound

7. Describe where you want to be: America

9. Your favorite color is: Hazy shade of winter

10. You know that: We've got a groovy thing goin

11. What’s the weather like: cloudy

12. If your life was a television show what would it be called: bookends

13. What is life to you: Dangling Conversation

14. What is the best advice you have to give: I wish I weren't in love

15. If you could change your name what would you change it to: Richard Corey

Ok, I tag Sam, Kida, Jayshree, Priyanka Pai and Kiddo.

Some Dog is a Millionaire!

Slumdog Millionaire is the story of a slum-dweller who was born and brought up in what is depicted as the crap-pit of the world. But he’s like no other. He decides to grab the world by its crack, and beat the crap out of it. He’s the kind who takes all the shit that the world doles out at him, only to emerge a victor, eventually. The only difference between this movie and several Indian movies which celebrated the underdog’s life in the 50s is the fact that Danny Boyle, the director of SM, focused on the “crappy” part of slum life with details that went to tasteless proportions.

But why has it elicited praise and accolades from western critics, while it continues to face the wrath of various sections of the Indian public. The answer, I believe, lies in the differing perspectives of Indians and the rest of the world about abject poverty.

Danny Boyle’s SM was a bullet which shattered the Kevlar that protected me from the knowledge of life in Mumbai’s Slums. Has he or any of the members of SM’s Team experienced life in Mumbai’s Slums, you ask. I cannot say for sure, because I never wanted to know what lies beyond whatever little I saw of Dharavi, from the window of a local train. Honestly, I’d turn away from the stench and avoid the ghastly sight. I’d never even mention this place when I spoke of the city I loved dearly. Never had I thought Dharavi could actually inspire a thought, leave alone poetry, songs, music, a story, romance or anything with a remote semblance of a good life. This is where we should draw a line with our cynicism and appreciate Boyle, Rehman and everyone involved with the fairy tale that is – Slumdog Millionaire.

While Bollywood Directors spend millions of dollars to fund their “dream” projects in “dream” locales, here’s a Brit who found his latest “love story” in the most disowned area of Mumbai, in the labyrinthine lanes of Dharavi. I’ve not read Vikas Swaroop’s book to use it as a parameter to judge the screenplay, so I’ll just speak of everything else.

Firstly, if we had a scale which would have artsy and masala on the two ends, SM would be inclined towards the latter end. It is neither a Bicycle Thief that would inspire Ray to make Pather Panchali, nor is it a DDLJ that would inspire every production house to make movies with larger-than-life NRI storylines, which would relegate Laxmi Mittal’s opulent lifestyle to modesty. Slumdog’s different.

SM narrates the life of a slum-dweller, who turns into a renegade, fighting all the norms of a “slumdog” – a term that has offended many. It is Jamal’s pursuit of love against all odds – poverty, religious vandalism, child abuse, fraud, the underworld, prostitution, organized crime, violence, economic and social disparity, corruption, and everything else that every Indian would turn their head away from in shame. And yet, he emerges a victor. “Larger than Life”, did I hear you say? But why “dwell” so much on all these ills, you ask. It is because we have simply refused to do so ourselves, “dwell” on the subject that is, that we are not able to digest Boyle’s bold portrayal. How much can a vilayati possibly sugarcoat the crap, which is life in the slums?

Now coming to the direction and editing. Brilliant! Each answer on the TV show becoming a key that unlocks the pandora’s box of Jamal’s past, a narrative device kept from cliche by deft direction and slick edits. And SM is certainly not without its share of inspiration. Black Friday and Satya probably had a big role in shaping Boyle’s directorial route, but that’s taking no credit away from the chase sequence early in the movie. Lathi-laden Havaldars chasing a bunch of brats all over Dharavi, with “Oh Saya” is the background is undoubtedly a directorial masterpiece.

There is also a powerful visual interpretation of Mumbai. The movie, much like the city itself, overflows with opposites. Paradoxical collisions were never known to make a memorable cocktail - horror and joy, colourful fantasy and grimy reality, history and hyper-modernity. Through SM, we find that there are rich hues in the homes of the poor, beauty in the grotesque, music in noise, happiness in sad living conditions, and poetry in poverty. Haven’t we been guilty of turning our aristocratic heads away from Dharavi, because it inspired little? Hasn’t this westerner just exposed our myopic outlook of cinema, and life in general?

As for Rehman’s original background score, which may win him a maximum of two Oscars, though being far from his best, it was apt, definitely worthy of an Oscar if it wins one. Rehman composed music that fit the mood of the film like a glove, much like the soundtrack of Atonement or American Beauty did for their respective movies. And I reiterate, “Oh Saya” rocks!

Another debate doing the rounds among the intellectual circles in India is if SM really deserved 10 nominations. In response, I’ll say Slumdog will only compete with movies that have been released in 2008. It’s not competing with a Life is Beautiful or a Schindler’s List. So either we celebrate the production of a well-executed movie, or a fall in the standard of movies competing for the Oscars. If it wins an Oscar for the best movie, Bollywood will proudly flaunt her Digitus Impedicus to her glamorous sister in LA.

To sum it up, Slumdog Millionaire is a feel-good movie. You’ll be glued to your seats, just like the time when you cheered Harshvardhan Navathe, who went on to become the first Crorepati on KBC. You’ll rejoice the triumph of Jamal at the denouement, just as you jumped with joy when Shreeshant held on to a skier, which brought India the first T20 World Cup. And you’ll even be implored into dancing in the very streets where this movie was shot, or sing “Jai Ho!” at CST (I thought it looked like Victoria Terminus, but correct me if I’m wrong). Alright, maybe that’s pushing it too far. Probably that’s sending reality into a different Space-Time coordinate. But then, isn’t it what we come to expect from movies?

Dangling Conversations

I've gone through an ABBA phase, and then a Beatles phase. This followed a Bob Dylan phase. And a Frank Sinatra phase. And preceding all this was a Simon and Garfunkel phase. So why does one go through these phases over and over again. It's definitely not a passe, and I believe it, as a subject, deserves some pondering on my part.

So why does a Frank Sinatra tune run in my head. Why is it that when I try my hand at poetry, my muses are straight out of Bob Dylan's verses. Or why does Paul Simon's lyrics inspire me to write, when Robert Frost's poems fail to do the same? Why do I sing "With a little help from my friends" at a karaoke bar, or tap my feet to "Take a chance on me"? Why is it that the more we listen to their music, the more indelible our mental image, of these artists, becomes? The answer lies in the astonishing detail in every note, in every lyric, in every emotion.

The aforementioned "phase" is a time when all the emotions that an artist's song elicits somehow chimes with our own thoughts. And the artist's ability to express only highlights our own inability to do the same.



Its a still life water color,
Of a now late afternoon,
As the sun shines through the curtained lace
And shadows wash the room.
And we sit and drink our coffee
Couched in our indifference,
Like shells upon the shore
You can hear the ocean roar
In the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs,
Are the borders of our lives.

And you read your emily dickinson,
And I my robert frost,
And we note our place with bookmarkers
That measure what weve lost.
Like a poem poorly written
We are verses out of rhythm,
Couplets out of rhyme,
In syncopated time
Lost in the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs,
Are the borders of our lives.

Yes, we speak of things that matter,
With words that must be said,
Can analysis be worthwhile?
Is the theater really dead?
And how the room is softly faded
And I only kiss your shadow,
I cannot feel your hand,
Youre a stranger now unto me
Lost in the dangling conversation.
And the superficial sighs,
In the borders of our lives.

Stairway to Heaven

There's a lady who's sure
All that glitters is gold
And she's buying a stairway to heaven.

Sometime in October, Swati and I were discussing our favourite rock songs. And the whole discussion started because she had the lyrics of "Stairway to Heaven" on her Gtalk Status Message. That reminded me of the only time I'd tried Karaoke at a fest in IIMB, when I attempted to dazzle an audience with this number with a hope that the place wouldn't echo with laughter instead of applause(more about my performance later). So what is it about "Stairway" that people, who were born more than a decade after the the song released, quote as twenty-something-year olds?

And it makes me wonder

Is it the mystical nature of the lyrics? Mysterious figures and images of nature abound: a lady, the piper, the May queen, a brook, a songbird, rings of smoke through the trees, a hedgerow, the wind. And with some evocative messages that implore listeners to pay attention to the lyrics.

There's a sign on the wall
But she wants to be sure
'cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.
In a tree by the brook
There's a songbird who sings,
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven.

Is it the haunting melody sung in an enticing tone that draws us to it like the mice and children that followed Pied Piper all the way in Hamlin? Do they really promise to lead us to a new dawn

And its whispered that soon
If we all call the tune
Then the piper will lead us to reason.
And a new day will dawn
For those who stand long
And the forests will echo with laughter.

There are probably several other reasons. What I love about the song is that it starts with the gentle strains of an Acoustic guitar with accompaniments that are very reminiscent of the simple folk of the shire in the LOTR trilogy. But then there is a sudden transition from the acoustic to the electric, probably symbolizing the evolution to the Industrial age, with a raucous roar of heavy distortion. It then ends in the poignant tone that it began with. All this render the song into the best musical representation of a gratifying orgasm, complete with an eight-minute foreplay leading up to it.

There'll be several Led Zeppelectics who'll probably tear this review apart, but where they'll surely agree with me is when I say "Stairway", along with at least a couple of other numbers like "Whole Lotta Love" and "Immigrant Song" have elevated Led Zeppelin to a sacrosanct place in Rock and Roll History and that they've made a lasting impression in the music history's proverbial sands of time.

And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last.
When all are one and one is all
To be a rock and not to roll.

And shes buying a stairway to heaven.

No strings attached!

So when was the last time you felt like buying an acoustic guitar and learn how to play? Was it when you heard Tears in Heaven for the first time? This is a global phenomenon and capitalising on this urge that music fans have everytime they hear a good acoustic number is Now Play It.

Launched last year, Now Play It aims to get people as close to the artists and songs they love as possible. To do that, it offers downloadable video tutorials on the art and craft of playing hundreds of different songs on guitar, bass, piano or drums, many of them led by the artists who wrote or perform them. Paul McCartney among the artists currently offering instruction on the site, and users can search for tutorials by artist, song, instrument, difficulty level or tutor.

Being taught by a well-known artist, even if by video, is certainly going to give a user a healthy helping of experiences to narrate. So when will your guitar gently weep?

50 ways to lose your lover!

My apologies to all Simon & Garfunkel fans, for corrupting the title of one of their songs. But then it is an apt title for this post. Ever wondered how two geeks discuss their love lives? Or the lack of it? read on...

Statuatary Warning: This a geek peak into a conversation between two S&G fans.

B: hmm... put somehow all the happenign women with the right perspectives on life...dig the classics & know their S&G, and I've not met one in a while...:(


M: dude you kidding?
and the ones you talking abt, make very entertaining dates. But that is it!

B: [:)]

M: he he!
dating them is good fun
but you'd prefer simplicity over sophistication when you looking long term...
he he!

B: been pondering over it dude for sometime ...
i think there's nothing simpler than S & G, nothing easier on the back than a bloody 20 kilo backpack ...yadayada
sophistication and simplicity can be heavily loaded words :)

M: ha ha ha!

I'll tell you this from experience....
if you ever date a woman who knows her S & G , you'll end up singing " I am a rock" to yourself....

:D

B: :)))))))))))))))

twas a good one M :) But there's sumthin about women who know their SnG.....

M:trust me!

B: u betcha :)

M: May be it's not all that bad in the beginning...but later...

B: naah..

I think it starts with "feeling groovy", when u've just come thru a "boxer" phase

M: ha ha ha!

B: somewhere along the way u have "kathys song"

M: thats only after you've sung "bridge over troubled water" a million times! and being an S&G fan herself, she wouldn't buy it so easily...

B: ive known very few women who know their SnG and Ive havent really dated any..so all conclusion of mine are bound to be conjectural...

M: you realise you never get to sing "wednesday morning 3 am" after "Kathy's song", instead you end up singing "cecelia" and feel like "the only living boy in new york"

so i never let it go beyond the "dangling conversations " path...

:D

B: Drat! I wouldn't want to be labelled the "most peculiar man"

M: Christ! you "think too much" man. We wouldn't let that happen. what are "old friends" for, anyway?

B: ha ha ha!

Harmonic Progression

I’ve always enjoyed sorting out my music on the computer. I don’t even need an excuse to get started. Every track on my computer has some sentiment attached. Every album sends me to unique imaginary realms. There are some tracks that are preserved only for the nostalgic value it provides, even though over the years my musical tastes have changed as drastically as I have as a person. Which is why this vocation (sorting out music and compiling play lists) turns out to be as refreshing as a vacation.
Last month I decided to organize my Hard disk and, it was an impulsive decision. July was particularly characterized by some anxiety and loneliness. My books and my music were my only bedfellows. Once while discussing my music collection with precocious perf(a friend whose name is not to be revealed), I began this odyssey which lasted nearly a month. As various songs played, they formed a soundtrack to the memories they invoked. It was a photo album for my ears; certain songs are inextricably attached to events in my past and when I listen to them, memories return.
My Columbine Voyage to the Newer world of music began with ABBA and Boney M. My sis plainly dismissed these as silly nursery rhymes when I played some of these numbers. She wouldn’t have guessed. I used to hum these tunes even before she was born. “Ring Ring ”, “Super trooper”, “ Another Town Another Train”, “Hasta manana” “Belfast”, “ Rasputin”….
Never understood the lyrics then, but loved the tunes. I subconsciously attached these tunes to all those days spent in Matunga, Bombay. And I’d sing those as any four-year old would.
“ I’m nothing special, in fact I’m a bit of a bore
If I tell a joke, you’ve probably heard it before
But I have a talent, a wonderful thing
coz everyone listens when I start to sing
I’m so grateful and proud
All I want is to sing it out loud”
Circa 1989.Those were the days of the tape recorder. Most Indians in their post-colonial hangover would say “You don’t have to pay at Spenser’s to meet your needs”. As Indians, we’d always found cheaper and more convenient ways to indulge in luxuries. Now, we didn’t need to buy album tapes for just a couple of good songs. We could always record our favourite numbers on blank audio tapes, and pretty good quality tapes ( the red cover Sony tapes) at that. So the music I listened to were not labeled. I had all these songs memorized on School bus trips between Chembur and Ghatkopar in Bombay (if you wondering how, my school bus was one of the very few that had a audio system). Only many years later would I make a serendipitous discovery of the name of the artist. When I listen to these tracks I’m often amused at the fact that as a six year old, the subjects that these numbers addressed were obviously beyond my comprehension, and yet we’d have a careless bus driver playing these in a school bus. “Papa don’t preach” and “la isa bonita” by Madonna, “I just called” and “part time lover” by Stevie Wonder, “Notorious” by Duran Duran, and a few by Foreigner, Boston, Tina Turner, USA for Africa, Berlin to name a few. Music and I were inseparable, and it was beyond my imagination that there is a whole world of music awaiting me. It was heavenly!
“Such a feelings coming over me
There is wonder in most everything I see
Not a cloud in the sky
Got the sun in my eyes
And I wont be surprised if its a dream
Everything I want the world to be
Is now coming true especially for me
And the reason is clear
Its because you are here
You’re the nearest thing to heaven that I’ve seen”
The '90s were mostly disappointing. Some excellent music completely overshadowed by syrupy shit! What I never realized then was the fact that my only source of music was MTV, and understandably music was sold based on visual appeal. This was the time I was starting to be really disillusioned with music. I did find some uplifting moments though.
“I get knocked down
But I get up again
You’re never going to
Keep me down”
I never really deciphered the “uplifting” pun in most songs and never figured out the drug or sexual connotations in the songs. I guess innocence and blissful ignorance did go hand in hand in my adolescence.
In the late 90’s I’d reached a point of giving up on music. Thought it’d just not be the same. I was probably one of those misguided by what music channels had to offer.
“I ain't saying you treated me unkind
You could have done better but I don't mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don't think twice, it's all right”
Napster was a boon. It restored hope for a better tomorrow. I started discovering some new music, or some music that was lost in the sands of time. Suddenly my relationship with music took a more philosophical turn. Started believing I’d already missed out on some really good music but thanks to the internet, I did have some access to it.
“I was twenty-one years when I wrote this song.
I’m twenty-two now but I wont be for long
Time hurries on.
And the leaves that are green turn to brown”
And we now have torrents. So my musical tastes start traveling on auto pilot. First there’s metal, then all genres of classic rock, some rock and roll, then some world music and more blues, and even more jazz…I could probably write a book on all the music I’ve listened to ever since.
Some love stories never end. This one has just begun.
So dear bloggers, I implore you to check out your collection and enjoy the trip.
“So I say
Thank you for the music, the songs I’m singing
Thanks for all the joy they’re bringing
Who can live without it, I ask in all honesty
What would life be?
Without a song or a dance what are we?
So I say thank you for the music
For giving it to me”

Chura liya....

27th June 2007 happens to be the 68th birth anniversary of the late R.D Burman or Pancham da as he was affectionally called by his collegues and friends.The title for this entry shares it name with what remains my favourite Bollywood number. The title, however is also apt because of what I discovered a few months back. Today may not be the best day for an expose, it being his birth anniversary. What prompted me to post this entry today was this tribute in the newspaper.
When Bhumikak wrote "bringing world music to our ears through hindi films, words are'nt enough to describe what burman did", I interpreted it literally.I do realise that a statement like this would be nothing short of blasphamy. Afterall, Pancham da occupies a sacroscant space in the heart of every hindi-movie lover.I am not trying to question the talents of the maestro,I only doubt his creativity as a music composer. It turns out some of his best numbers were "inspired" from the works of artists whose background varied from the Americas to the far east.
I turned out to be a huge RD Burman fan after the release of what is now remembered as his swansong - "1942,A Love Story". It piqued my curiosity as it did for many who had had the better fortune of growing up to his melodious tunes in the 70's and in the following decades.I followed his works after his unfortunate demise in 1994 and was forced to listen to his works in the reverse order of chronology.His works were path breaking compared to all his contemporaries. But as I was exposed to western pop in my adolescent years, I realised Burman owed much to the likes of ABBA, Chubby Checker, Elvis, The Carpenters, The Beach Boys, The Beatles, Cliff Richards and Frank Sinatra to name a few. My own inclination towards jazz music more recently however led me to this serendipitous discovery, which really blew my mind away. Readers please check out Demis Roussos’ "Say you love me" and you'll know what I mean.Roussos' third album, released in 1974, inspired Sholay's "Mehbooba Mehbooba", which was released the following year. Till I discovered this fact, I'd listed down this song as my favourite bollywood track as it was so ahead of its times. I'd imagined that it as a song inspired many a musician to explore new realms of creativity. Suddenly I felt a little betrayed.
Now as I look at it dispassionately and objectively, it did probably spawn a breed of pseudos with great musical tastes to try out a hand at composing music.Afterall, We must remember "Akele Hum Akele Tum", Anu Malik's magnum opus till then as probably bollywoods best tribute to Wham,Deep Purple and the Godfather. Burman however should be remembered as an individual who revolutionised the Indian music industry by his sheer talents.By featuring in Jose Flores' Pantera, he did put India on the world music map. Creativity or the lack of it notwithstanding, I'd still list down the folling as my favourites:
1. Monica, oh my darling (caravan)
2. Hare Krishna Hare Ram ( movie of the same name)
3. Chingari koi badkhe ( amar prem)
4. Kati patang ( movie of the same name)
5. Chura liya ( yaadon ki baarat)
6. Tere bina zindagi se koi ( andhi)
7. Tumse naraz nahi ( masoom)
If any of these have been "inspired", i'd just overlook any such info and say "Ignorance is bliss".

Remembering Shakti

Critics believed John McLaughlin had committed commercial harakiri by abandoning electric instruments and Western sensibilities of mahavishnu orchestra in favor of an all-acoustic group with Indian musicians. In fact, record sales for this group, Shakti, were quite disappointing. Sometimes though, a musician has to follow his muse. In this case, McLaughlin was led to create a very fertile groundbreaking group in the form of Shakti. Shakti's dependence on Eastern musical models infused with Western jazz-like improvisation made for an exciting and influential stew.

Formed in 1975, Shakti pioneered a groundbreaking east-meets-west collaborative approach. The group, whose name means creative intelligence, beauty and power, consisted of legendary British jazz guitarist John McLaughlin, North Indian tabla master Zakir Hussain and violinist L. Shankar and ghatam player T.H. "Vikku" Vinayakram. Together, they created a harmony that managed to successfully combine seemingly incompatible traditions. However, with the exception of a few music aficionados, not many were open enough to accept the genesis of Shakti. McLaughlin’s fans were still recuperating from the irredeemable loss of his absence. It reflected in the dismal sales of Shakti.

"What happens is sometimes you have a vision and an urge to go forward and do something unique at a time when people are still tied to what is, as opposed to what should be or what can be," explained Hussain of the resistance to Shakti's early days. "One must also realize that John had just disconnected himself from the Mahavishnu Orchestra, a very, very commercially popular [jazz-rock] group. In many ways, John made the big sacrifice because he lost a lot of fans who were into his electrical experience and they faded away."

How ironic that 20 years later, a band different from the original Shakti but born from its spirit should emerge to find commercial success. And how ironic that McLaughlin should now turn to the timbres of an electric guitar and forego the sublime sounds of his acoustic approach.

Remember Shakti is the name of the new group as well as its first live album. The 2 CD set recorded over four nights in England in the fall of 1997 features the two founding fathers of the original Shakti, McLaughlin and the tabla master Zakir Hussain. One of India's most respected musicians, flautist Hariprasad Chaurasia, provides an integral voice as a member of this group for these several concerts. Most enjoyably, Shakti's original ghatam player “Vikku” Vinayakram helps to serve the rhythm.

The tunes here tend to be very long and require attentive listening. Two McLaughlin standards, “Lotus Feet” and “Zakir,” are present. My personal favourite is the one in which Chaurasia appears, sans McLaughlin, on the opening self-penned tune ”Chandrakauns” . Check it out !