Long time no anything.

It's been far too long since I have posted here. But with no laptop and practically no access to internet neither am I being exposed to much new music (or anything new, really) nor am I very inspired to write. Even my poems are coming from a drying well. Sigh. Inevitable I guess.

But oh, I heard this today and I am more than a little in love with it. I feel like lying on my bed and stretching endlessly to it. Yep. Just stretching.



Enjoy! Hopefully I'll be back in full form soon. 

League of Extraordinary Dancers on So You Think You Can Dance

Okay how amazing are these dancers? It isn't possible for me to love this show more.



As soon as I am more free and settled I am going to be catching the web series. You should too. 

Kinship, writing and Marissa Nadler

Have you ever come across an artist with whom you felt an instant connection? This connection is different from others, it's not merely that the artist speak of things you know well and intimately, nor is it mere admiration for how like you they seem, it certainty isn't the kind of connection that grows with each listen so you feel by imbibing the artists in your life you are growing a little. No it's the kind of connection you recognise instantly-you feel it in your bones with the first strains of music and when he/she begins to sing and you're even willing to entertain the slightly foolish notion that you're siblings of the same order-kindred spirits if you will be.

It's rare this kind of connection because we love so many artists for the diversity that they bring to our lives, for the way they train our ears to their sound and their message, for opening us to new ways of seeing and I'm sure many many more reasons. But this kind of connection is unique because it seems to take you back to somewhere ancient, some place no I don't want to use the word primal, even before that- a beginning of sorts. Your beginning. I haven't felt this way about too many artists and it's a good thing because over the past few days I have become obsessed with Marissa Nadler.

The moment I first heard the opening strains of Thinking of You  I immediately had that swooping sensation in my stomach a little like when you first realise you're in love but instead of throwing you off balance like love does, this feeling centers you. I guess it's what meditation should do. And then when I hear her cover of Famous Blue Raincoat (a song that holds so many memories for me that I would call it my favourite Cohen song if not for Chelsea Hotel No. 2)  I was lost. I am not someone who grudges covers but I am wary when it's a song I am already deeply attached to. Her version manages to break through that barrier. It is just as painful as Cohen's but adds a layer to it, turns the mystery of that song in a different direction and it becomes every bit her song.

I love that she is so gracefully dark. Why gracefully? I guess it's because it goes back to something I said to someone a long time back, that darkness can be very very beautiful that there's much to learn from it if we allow ourselves to. I was sick of the whole enlightenment spiel (at the time) a friend was giving me and I can remember how we coined the word 'endarkenment' as an anti thesis to it.  For as long as I can remember I've been preoccupied with pain.  I've had clashes with so many people about this though that I just shut up about it now. It's why poetry works so well for me and much of Marissa's writing reminds me of things I know, wonder about, some times don't have courage to write about.

I wrote a poem (Have you seen my sadness?) under her influence the other day and it's one I am happy with even though I know it needs more work. I took time with it, her music playing all the while in the background and it was just an amazing experience writing it. I love when that happens, when the writing is enough.

Read more about her at Pitchfork they have some great reviews of her albums. My favourite so far is Songs III Bird on the Water.

Farewell Amy

Last month I had started writing a post on female British musicians I loved because suddenly I realised they were all I was listening to. Anyway, the list included Adele (whose album I was sinking my teeth into at the time), Laura Marling, Lissie and of course Amy Winehouse. I had planned it all out. I knew I'd begin with Adele and end with Amy (both of them were my favourites). I had managed to write a little about the others but when I came to Amy I was at a loss for words. How to write about someone who speaks for herself especially in such a ballsy no holds barred kind of way. And how to address that power in her music without falling back on 'raw' 'gritty'  as descriptors. I felt ineffective writing about her then and now with her death I feel even more incapable of providing her with a fitting tribute. I can only be emotional and over the place at this point.

I was at a relative's place on July 23rd. My uncle was watching the England-India test match at Lords and as he was flipping through channels a headline leaped out at me "Amy Winehouse Found Dead" I immediately felt this chill go through me (and I also yelled "What??) and tears welled up in shock- it was like hearing about someone I knew and loved. 

Ever since that day, messages have been pouring in from all over, twitter exploded with  messages of condolence, mourning and shock. Other comments have been so derogatory and demeaning I wanted to hurl something. Even worse are the many people who seem to have a reaction of complacence-'she was doomed to die early,' 'are we really surprised' was one of the questions(well yes, death is always surprising); that she doesn't deserve mourning for all her "bad behaviour"(this was the worst) 

I was upset  but all this is part of the wide scope that a tragedy like this represents. It also speaks to what she represented for so many people. Brilliant. Troubled. One of a kind. (and tragically) Junkie. Her personal life was often fodder for mockery, tabloids were rife with stories about her and the British tabloids were particularly ruthless (so happy they are getting their comeuppance now) and now in her passing they mourn her. They call her a gifted musician whose personal demons overcame her as if they had no part to play in her issues. 

We seem to assume that with social networking on the rise and the invasive nature of tabloid journalism the element of mystery in our stars have gone. That we can know them. They are like us but we get to laugh and jeer at them for being just like us. This is only alienating. We don't know these people. And with someone like Amy it has only contributed to her downfall. We never understood her demons because we didn't want to. We wanted her to either be a figure of mockery- a symbol for all that can go wrong with a person, to use her as a cautionary tale for others and lament about the pitfalls of the business. As every detail of her life played out in front of us we got to pass on judgement on her without really knowing her. We got to pretend we knew her. 

Now she is gone and we never will. For Amy was in her music. Damaged, in pain, uncompromising and proudly so, she is now lost to us. Music has lost her.

There are better obituaries, better tributes out there but as I am winding this down I realise that this was never meant to be one. Like I had told a friend when I heard the news, I am shaken and angry. I am incapable of reflecting on her death, the shameless condemnation of her disease, her music- on what it all meant.

For now, I will simply defer to her music and let Amy speak for herself.

R.I.P Amy Jade Winehouse

   

Update: Lissie is apparently American. Sorry for the mix up.

On (possibly) leaving

I will be leaving Bangalore soon. And I'm not sure how to feel about it. As soon as I stepped into this city I hated it. It didn't help that I was going through a particularly bad phase at the time. So when I saw the dirty streets, the pot holes everywhere, the terrible traffic it was all too easy to project my terrible state onto the city. I painted the city in the most dreadful colours and my family still teases me about my habit of throwing my hands up in the air screaming"I hate this city" everytime the power in the city failed us (which was very often).

Now, as I am applying to study in Delhi (yes back there again) and mind you, the chances of me getting through the exam and into the course are not very high-even so, I'm feeling strange about leaving Bangalore. I still don't love this city. I hate the million malls that have erupted like mushrooms all over the city. I hate the fact that I had to walk past a ditch entertaining pigs, garbage, shit and god knows how many diseases, everyday on my way to the bus stop. I hate the fact that you go to a restaurant and spend oodles of money on food that isn't even that good.

I hate that I hate it.

I realise these things could apply to any city in India. But they do bother me more in Bangalore. My memory (from childhood) courts a different Bangalore, one with flowers blooming in trees, the wind sharp against your face and this lush greenness everywhere you looked. It was a limited view(I used to come on vacation) I know and a highly romanticised one. Who knows if the Bangalore that I thought I saw then was really there? But I thought it was real and that's what counts I guess. In a similar way I know a lot of people living here cannot picture themselves living anywhere else so maybe they are seeing a different city. A city that invokes strong ties despite the things I mentioned above. Things to complain about but with affection. I know what it's like to love a city like that.

Now, with the possibility of leaving looming large before me I have to consider that while this city holds no precious memories for me there's been a lot of inspiration here. There's been a lot of poetry written here and for that I can only be grateful. I think it takes a while to understand what a place does to you-that you have to leave it to know the things that have settled in your bones and skin. Right now, this indefinable feeling of loss and also relief makes me think it is like saying goodbye to a dysfunctional relationship.

You're glad it happened but also grateful that it's over.

Falling

"Heard about the guy who fell off a skyscraper? On his way down past each floor, he kept saying to reassure himself: So far so good... so far so good... so far so good. How you fall doesn't matter. It's how you land."
                         - La Haine


But this ocean must have a floor right?

Blue

Sometimes a day is just drenched in blue.

And then there's this:



The dancer's name is Melanie Moore. The music is from the movie New Moon from the Twilight Saga. I haven't watched the film but this has to be all that's good about it. I first saw Melanie is her audition for SYTYCD Season 8. Her audition is a shorter version of this and I watched it 10 times non stop. So obviously I had to see if there were more videos of her and then I found this one.

I love her bird like movements. I love how she's not too pretty is her poses. And like one of the commenters have said she dances with her entire body. Each movement is finished.

My blues have no place here. Awe can do that to you.