Been some time I sat back and listened to my favourite Sting albums. Last week, my friend Neel gave me a movie/concert DVD I have been looking for all my life: Bring On The Night.
Till now, I have only been able to catch glimpses; on vague Transtel late-night transmissions in the pre-cable days, on TB5; on YouTube in more recent times but only as single tracks in performance.
The movie brings together Sting with some of the cutting-edge performers in mid-80s American jazz — Branford Marsalis, Omar Hakim, Kenny Kirkland and Darryl Jones. The subsequent interplay of exchanges — often musical, largely humourous — are missed if you don't see the entire film at length. As Sting puts it at the beginning at a press conference on the Eiffel Tower (talk about being a rock star), this movie documented the "birth of a band", unlike Quadrophenia or Let It Be.

I love I Burn For You. It's probably my favourite Sting song. Well, if there can be one; I keep on posting new lists from week to week on the Orkut forums, as all of the members know. Anyway..back to ...Burn. Why do I love it? Let's just say that's personal.
No, seriously... The words, for one. Branford's lines, for two. And the groove — the water-like, shimmering 6/8 that Omar played on the Brimstone and Treacle soundtrack, not to mention the brilliant live solo. Omar's groove is just oe solid He breaks down the groove, accents the1s, finds 16th note accents within the structure quite like the Weather Report alumnus that he was at that time.

over and out. zip drive. broken roads. shout. scream. skin cold. warm coke. breaking bonds.

it doesn't matter if here is gone

Maa

It's Pujo. The smell of chhatim and shiuli everywhere. Pandals being erected on every street, people crowding malls, shopping frenzy, a smile on everyone's face. New beginnings. Four days of festivities, pandal-hopping, catching up with friends and family.

My Maa isn't here this time.

My Maa always used to be sad during Pujo, saying both us brothers do not pay any attention to her Pujo; to drive her around the city, to take her to grandma, to spend time, have phuchka, spot a wonderful new puja. My father had no time either; cards and old mates from school would ensure that he came back home at late hours and was sufficiently drunk not to engage in conversation.
Maa, instead, was busy organising plays for the kids in the apartment, attending apparently meaningless Pujo meetings, doing the meet-and-greet with random strangers, inviting everyone over to the house for a hearty meal. Just to provide a semblance of happiness and fullness in a house that the three of us used merely as a crash pad. But she was happy with just that little. "Amar chhelera khub byasto," she'd say with a smile. A sad smile, but no one else but she — and maybe me and bhai — knew.

Last year, for the first time in my life, I took Maa out on a shopping spree. I was proud to be able to organise all that — the cash, a bit of comfort, and clothes that she flaunted like a queen. "Dodo diyeche," she said. I had never been so proud in my life. I also never realised till that time how proud I could make her feel, even at that stage when I was jobless and when everyone else basically gave up on me. Maa, on the other hand, had unflinching faith in me and my brother, always telling us how 'everything's going to be alright'.

My brother just cut a recording deal with HMV; his band the first original rock band in India to do so. I have a stable job and a band that will debut at one of the biggest rock festivals in the country, come December.
But how am I going to run through this Pujo without crying, like I am now?

Swing on the spiral
Swing on the spiral
Of our divinity

And still be a human...

The Starclassic Bubinga kit, 2007. Bubinga's hardwood, no wonder Brad Delston and all those nu-age rock/metal guys are going for it.

TT 25TH anniversary party gig at Venom, Sep. 14.

I'm not sure why the man in the blue shirt a.k.a Neel (who also happens to be the frontman for Span and FLI) is screaming back at me. If I guess it right, this is a glimpse off us covering the Stevie Wonder classic Superstitious. I do play some loud-ass drums on that song, for no particular reason. It just helps the feel.
It was a nice gig, with my colleague chipping in to deliver lively renditions of Mercedes-Benz and Let It Be and What's Up.

PS: The lady in the ochre top is usually always the resident live video-recorder at my concerts. No points for guessing who she is. Unfortunately, the video to this gig was erased by accident, resulting in a lot of drama the morning after. But that's another story.

FLI news

We worked on two new songs — one written by Allan, and the other, quite unexpectedly, yet another new song from Neel.
In the second rehearsals after a break of two weeks, we did Allan's song in one single, fluid take, pat down (like Screaming at the Sun).
Probably we all needed this time off. Especially me.
Everyday (that's the working title) is a gem of a song, and with the harmonies interweaving, it looks radio-ready. Some melody, that.
The other song was built on a broken, and — a-ha — very aggressive riff that Neel came up with and Allan smoothened out. It's aggressive, trust me. This band doesn't have any problems fusing aggression with hooks, which is always a good thing. Add a killer chorus chant, and we're done.
I'm happy. Purely musically speaking, I am really really honoured to play with these guys.

Oh..the link to our song: myspace.com/fivelittleindians

Feel free to comment; here or on the myspace page. Cheers.

one more Saturday. plan, plan, plan. sleep. drive. eat some. be son. be brother. be another.
socialise. someplace else. fight. hurt. movie song. coffee. words in the head. sugar rush. ignite. turn on the music. run. run away.

sleep. watch Linklater. drink coffee. meditate. play. zero-in. snort. drink coffee. discuss. adopt a dog. fold kites. banish ego. happy. coolth. one life. ashes to ashes.

No Excuses

It would be enough to say that I've been at this, the playing, for the last 10 years, of which the last 7 would be in earnest. Have I found my sound yet? In bits and pieces, yes. Have I found the band?
Hell.
I'd say for sure — only that I can't say it out loud because I know I have no excuses not to get better with these guys.
No excuses.
I have to work my ass off to play this shit pat down, and hurt as it might, I have to take it all in my stride, because all said and done, I really wanna do this; I really want to make this music happen and cook like a motherfucker. And like two years back once I took that life-changing decision, I'm not gonna stop for anything — or anybody.

Ma

It's been just about two weeks that we lost Ma. I don't really know what to say, except that I really miss her. I remember waking up at nights, sweating, crying just imagining that she's not there. Now, it's not my imagination anymore: She really isn't there. Does writing that down in black-and-white help sink the fact in? I don't know. I really miss her.
This is a funny year. 2007. I did everything that I have been supposed to do, you know. Even sought out job interviews, and registered myself on stuff like monster.com and naukri.com. And didn't think twice when I was offered this job. Somewhere down the line, I was always thinking of Ma getting worried about it all. 'Settling down' seemed a possibility — and she was the biggest reason to even contemplate that.
9 days changed all that. In fact, even less; I'd put it at 24 hours, from a Monday morning through to the Tuesday, when she came back home in a body-bag.
I cried little, apart from coming back from the burning ghat and the first night. I'm the elder son, I'm supposed to be strong and responsible and all that. But what no one seems to get is that I really miss her.
Whatever I am is because of her. Somehow, her not being there makes everything seem meaningless. I really miss her. And no one knows how much.

Makin' out on music

What's your music for the day?
I woke up to Nickelback's Savin' Me, from the latest, All The Right Reasons. I hardly sit down to listen to modern rock — playing and listening a whole CD, let's say — but I've always had a fondness for the Vancouver quartet. Probably because of the very hummable power ballads.
It's great to make love to a power ballad (I wanted to get explicit here, but on second thoughts...)

At work, at play

Current mood: Exhausted but happy
On rotation: Up All Night, The John Scofield Band


I kinda like this office. People are very professional, quite efficient as well — ah, you'll always have two or one proverbial bad apples, but hey, as long as I'm getting paid......
Over the past 22 days, I have managed my routine to an extent where I can actually cull over a couple of hours to play some drums, though I have not been to any reherasals. There hardly has been any reherasals, so that's that. But we have a show on March 9, and I have a new, kick-ass computer. I need to get going with the electronic shite. Tonnes to do.

Is this blog still alive?

It's my birthday. And I am back.
And really sorry not to have blogged for 6 or seven months before this entry. Since something called Orkut happened to me over that period, my writing habit was well-nigh butchered. As it is, I never sat down at a machine for too long: and for blogging, I really need time. The other thing is, probably because much of what you write runs a danger of being hacked when sent on page, I write with a vengeance at work.
Other thoughts: this place has weird energies. And it sure is surreal to work with your girlfriend in the same office. But hey, I need the job; keeps me focused.

However, I'd now be happy remembering the fact that I have a large chunk of WHATEVER I always wanted, gear-wise. I have the K Customs and even an A Custom, and one of the best set of drums in this town. The thing that's eating me is whether joining this job — even with its promise of a 10 to 6 — will actually cut down on playing time. In any case, if that is the scene, I'll go back to where I once was. The music, amigos, will never stop.