Mar Gaya, Saala

In these days of changing ways–so called ‘liberated days’– a story comes to mind, of a friend of mine. Georgie boy was gay, I guess– nothing more and nothing less: the kindest guy I ever knew. His mother’s tears fell in vain the afternoon George tried to explain that he needed love like all the rest. Pa said, “There must be a mistake! How can my son not be straight, after all I’ve said and done for him?”

Leaving home on a Greyhound bus, cast out by the ones he loved (a victim of these ‘gay days’ it seems), Georgie went to New York town where he quickly settled down, and soon became the toast of the great white way. Accepted by Manhattan’s elite in all the places that were chic, no party was complete without George!

Along the boulevards he’d cruise, and all the old queens blew a fuse… Everybody loved Georgie boy!

The last time I saw George alive was in the summer of ‘75. He said he was in love. I said, “I’m pleased!”

George attended the opening night of another Broadway hype but split before the final curtain fell. Deciding to take a short cut home, arm in arm, they meant no wrong. A gentle breeze blew down Fifth Avenue. Out of a darkened side street came a New Jersey gang with just one aim: to roll some innocent passer-by. There ensued a fearful fight, screams rang out in the night. Georgie’s head hit a sidewalk cornerstone. A leather kid, a switchblade knife… He did not intend to take his life. He just pushed his luck a little too far that night.

The sight of blood dispersed the gang. A crowd gathered, the police came. An ambulance screamed to a halt on Fifty-Third and Third.

Georgie’s life ended there, but I ask, “Who really cares?” George once said to me, and I quote:

He said, “Never wait or hesitate. Get in kid, before it’s too late– you may never get another chance. ‘Cos youth’s a mask, but it don’t last… live it long and live it fast.”

Georgie was a friend of mine.

Oh Georgie, stay, don’t go away.
Georgie please stay, you take our breath away.

Rod Stewart - The Killing of Georgie

1971’s Best

Isn’t it great how choosing the right album to play can cheer up your Saturday morning no end? =)

What a great album this is, too. My American uncle picked it out for me as a visiting-from-the-States present when I was in 10th grade or so, along with Fleetwood Mac’s Greatest Hits. (Other choices of his were Hootie and The Blowfish’s Cracked Rear View, with the radio hit ‘Hold My Hand’; and 10,000 Maniacs’ MTV Unplugged.)

Crooning along to Baba O’ Riley, air-drumming to Bargain, swaying happily to Love Ain’t For Keeping… recording quality that trumps the average Indian-produced album, great singing, fantastic synthesizer use, a solid bassline, and of course one of the greatest drummers ever; even the cover art was voted #2 best of all time by VH1 in 2006.

Here are some songs

I’m back in Boston. The weather here over the past 2 days has been quite lovely. I’m told that while I was gone it rained almost constantly. Thunder and lightning. Boston missed me I guess.

Zonuts seems to be getting a few readers who aren’t contributors. This is encouraging. For a while it seemed like we were just talking to each other. Sometimes I land up here and feel a little out of it — like I don’t know what’s going on any more. But what of that? Let’s get to the music.

I think Thunker asked for a few songs. I’m lazy to zip them up in a folder, so I’ll just upload them individually.

First up: Noah & The Whale. They make sunny, romantic, vaguely American-influenced pop rock. I downloaded their 6-track EP when I heard that Laura Marling had something to do with them. She does the backing vocals on most of the tracks — to be honest I don’t know if it’s this backing that draws me to their music. These songs feels like the upbeat, optimistic counterparts to Marling’s somewhat melancholic solo offerings. (Look for videos on youtube!)

Noah & The Whale — 5 Years Time

Noah & The Whale — Mary

Noah & The Whale — Rocks and Daggers

I like Beirut a lot. And by that I mean 22-year-old wunderkind Zach Condon and company, and not the bullet-riddled city. The track “Scenic World” is now one of my all-time favourite songs. It’s so simple, with it’s lyric:

the lights go on
the lights go off
when things don’t feel right
i lie down like a tired dog
licking his wounds in the shade

when i feel alive
i try to imagine a careless life
a scenic world where the sunsets are all
breathtaking

This, I think, is an entire philosophy — it’s yearning is something I can relate to. I found another version of the song on an early EP. Sublime.

Beirut — Scenic World (alternate version)

Midlake is a band I encountered via a review of Yeasayer. I’ve been listening to the album The Trials of Van Occupanther quite a bit. And it really sunk in while I was in India — I was on a bus getting back to Coonoor from Bangalore. I woke up just before dawn, and played the album while the bus made its way through the stunningly gorgeous forest-and-grassland territory between Gudalur and Ooty. I think the simple rustic scenes meshed very well with the pastoral imagery from the album. I haven’t really paid attention to the lyrics, but a few lines stand out. Here’s a bit from Roscoe.

Oh, oh, oh and when the morning comes,
We will step outside
We will not find another man inside
We like the newness, the newness of all
That has grown in our garden soaking for so long

And in “Bandits” the story begins as follows:

Did you ever want to be overrun by bandits;
to hand over all of your things and start over new?
while we were out hunting for food
our house was being robbed
I caught an apple and she caught a fox
so I caught a rabbit but she caught an ox

I think the album revolves around a concept based in the 1800s. I have dim images of the dawn of rail travel. Farmsteads on the edge of the woods. Americana. While the lyrics seem to come from the 1870s, the music is soaked in a 1970s roots-rock sound. I highly recommend the album — but to start with, play it in the background. The singer’s voice is quite affecting, but the songs don’t necessarily strike one on first listen.

Midlake — Roscoe

Midlake — Bandits

Ghosts of Autumn

I feel the worst of the Delhi summer might be behind us. The last couple of nights I’ve gotten out of bed as soon as I awoke in the early morning to reduce the fan speed. It’s on 1 right now, and I’d be quite happy to turn it off, to tell the truth. It’s lovely to not have the constant whirr in the background. There’s suddenly so much more to hear, and the things loud enough to be heard over the fan anyway become clearer, so you can lower their volumes some.

Spock’s Beard - Ghosts of Autumn

It was a dark and stormy night!

I’m convinced that my pitiful ineptness at mugging nursery rhymes (then and now) keeps coming back to subtly screw me over (now and then). I actually had issues eating pork, for instance, not knowing that those little piggies were destined to be run over by indifferent engine drivers anyway. It was those wonderful Chinese, bless them, that finally got me (and the hogs) back on track.

And then there’s the issue of song lyrics. I just can’t get myself to listen to them; I’m too caught up listening to the music to worry about the words. I’m convinced this is because I was busy mastering the tune of the rhymes and not paying enough attention to the words. (That I didn’t get the tune right either is another story altogether.)

And then, last week, I realized there was another reason for this. Driving back from work, I was listening to a whining Jack White singing about a Carolina Drama, and I found myself listening to every word. Strange, I thought to myself, and promptly missed the next line. But I got all the other words, and I can’t say that about too many songs. My inquisitive scientific mind quickly tried to make sense of this unexpected development – ‘It’s those darned nursery rhymes again’, it announced, clearly pleased with its Phelpsian exertion.

Further empirical evidence was required, though. I listened to another song. . Nothing. I switch back. It’s back. ‘This is like Mr. India’, Dr. Cerebrum helpfully volunteers.

And then, all of a sudden, I get it. I am temporarily blinded by own brilliance (which doesn’t excuse my cutting that red light, but still). The reason is <hushed silence> very simply <drum roll> at least partly attributed to <oh, get on with it!> the complete disappearance of the story-song!

What do you mean, “Is that it?” Yes, that’s it! I’d like to see you top that.

Ok, fine, I’ll explain. Remember Rocky Raccoon? Of course you do. Lovely story. There were a lot of them back then, right? Bob Dylan, Simon & G, Neil Young – they all had stories to tell, and they told them all well. There was a beginning, there was a middle, there was an end. There were protagonists, plots and sub-plots, an unmistakeable denouement and an invariable anti-climax. You’d sing along from start to finish because you had no other choice – you had to tell them how it ended. Ergo, you paid attention to all the words.

Now, if you will allow me my moment of smug celebration…

Can you think of any recent story-songs worth yodeling along to?

The Raconteurs – Carolina Drama [mp3]

Barenaked Ladies (Live in Michigan) – Bank Job [mp3] (Poor lady in the front row!)

Johnny Cash – A Boy Named Sue [mp3]

The Kinks – Lola [mp3]

No Comments

All right, I get it! I can take a hint. You should’ve been in my gaddi on Monday night, during a very-late-night excursion from JNU to get some smokes from the Saket Twentyfour-Seven. Three drunk and stoned girls putting their legs on the dashboard, throwing seatbelt caution to the wind and rain, and generally causing havoc. Relatively sober me trying hard not to get lost and avoid THAT POTHOLE– ouch! My poor baby. (The car.) 

And such contempt for my tastes in music as has never been seen, and ne’er shall be. I was carrying quite a range that night, too! Dream Theater’s Images and Words; Tull’s Heavy Horses; Elton John’s Love Songs (I said quite a range, not quite cool music); Ass Some 1, which has Dave Mathews, Train, Deep Purple, and a lot of Aerosmith among others; Soul Devotion– The Very Best of Heart and Soul, which has stuff like Dina Carroll, Vanessa Williams, and good ol’ Lionel Richie; a trance cd packed with Tiesto, Armin van Buuren, Benny Benassi, Global DJs, and even Astrix; a party cd with rap and hip-hop; an mp3 cd with all of Floyd; another one with Floyd, Metallica, and Megadeth; another one with assorted adult pop such as Peter Gabriel, Madonna, Michael Jackson, and Guns N’ Roses; AND an mp3 player packed to the brim with Keane and The Killers, and if you don’t like Keane after listening to Hopes and Fears that’s just sad. AND there was the best of Delhi late-night radio on offer.

NOTHING WILL EVER BE GOOD ENOUGH FOR THESE CHICKS WITH THE ATTENTION SPAN OF A CHICK-PEA! Click, click, next please. Good thing I didn’t tell them about the remote control.

And you know, the rule is actually that it’s the driver’s prerogative to choose the music. I was just being nice.

I finally gave up when a girl’s leg knocked the CD player on its way back up to the dashboard (I wasn’t kidding!) and hit the button that pops the front of the player out for security. They sang the songs of their youth a capella (’Show me, the way, to the next, whisky bar, oh, don’t, ask, why, jeez, what a, retarded song’ and something in Hindi about a camel, if I’m not mistaken, although I probably am). I swerved to avoid THAT COW and slammed on the brakes to avoid going airborne from THAT SPEEDBREAKER!

But this isn’t really my music taste on display: it’s the producers of The OC’s. And by most accounts, they’re pretty cool– whatever you think of the show. As Han once said, the Music and Mischa Barton keep drawing us back to it.

I haven’t gotten around to getting The OC Mixes 1 to 6 yet, but I do have some individual songs from the soundtrack. Check them out. They’re all melancholy and acoustic (except for Fix You, which is probably my favourite Coldplay song). Not at all Dream Theater-y, Space Buddha-y, or even Tiesto-y.

Let’s start off with Joseph Arthur. He’s signed to Peter Gabriel’s RealWorld music label. He’s a prolific songwriter and musician with a large back-catalogue of unreleased songs. And that’s all I know about him. Other than that I like his voice and that this particular track is quite the hummable.

Joseph Arthur - Honey and The Moon

Actually, I don’t have time to do a track-wise commentary. Just try out also:

Jem - Maybe I’m Amazed (a Paul McCartney cover) (most unfortunately, this has some dialogue from the show in the middle);

Turin Brakes - Rain City;

And of course, something you’ve probably already heard:

Imogen Heap - Hide and Seek.

What a fantastic song that last one is. You have to hear it.

No pressure, by the way.