Rock, Muses, and Miles again

Went to the St. John's Autumn Muse Rock Show last night. Rode up in Bindu's little scooterette (sneaked in the back way, didn't feel like parking across the road). Walked up to the back entrance and was told tickets were only available at the front. About turn, etc. As I'm walking around the show area I can hear Synapse going bananas on stage, with the vocalist screaming some deeply profound and cleverly worded epithets - namely "Fuck you, I hate you, Fuck you, I hate you!" in a dulcet contralto growl. Ah for that youthful angst again.

Hear someone running up behind me, turn around, and this little fella comes up to me. 'So sorry', he says, 'I'm really stupid for not recognizing you - you're Bruce Lee Mani of TAAQ, right? There's no need for you to buy a ticket, just come right in!'. He then goes on to apologise for all the other poor souls at the ticket counter who didn't recognize me either. I'm finding this really funny by now, so I thank him, and tell him I'll buy a ticket anyway, I know rock music isn't the most paying profession, but I can afford 75 bucks, etc, etc. He's resolute though. Brushes aside a curious security guard, and ushers me in the stage entrance and asks me to have a good time. Hands me a 'pass' and says I can come back out the same way. Ah, fame.

My wife sits by as I type this and helpfully mentions that now the next paragraph has to end with 'Ah' something. She's a dear, isn't she? Ah, marriage.

Chat with the Zero guys awhile and watch Synapse still being bananas. The drummer, quite an expressive chap, finds time in between his hyper double bass to flash us his tongue. What a tongue. I think he could have easily licked his eyebrows with it. Explains their matted look, maybe. Anyway, the band is quite tight now, and if you dig this genre, you'll probably enjoy their stuff. They seemed to be having quite a time of it on stage.

Walked up to the sound desk, exchange the usuals with Sanjay, Vinay, and the boys from Acoustic Control, as Zero tunes up.

They play a lot of their own stuff, some of the names I remember are 'Mariachi', a sort of latin-flavoured mid rocker, and their earlier 'hits' 'Not My Kind of Girl', and 'Lucy'. They're pretty good, tight four piece. Good guitar player, Sanjay Joseph, I think, formerly of Ezee Meat or some such. Didn't have such a great tone though. The usual sozzled sillies in the front rows had their shirts of, and were baying for Maiden or Metallica. Which they didn't get. They got Johnny B. Goode, and seemed happy. Go figure.

What is happening to live rock in this joint? There were probably 300 people there, all told, at what was once one of the biggest rock events in Bangalore. And the same old scenes play themselves out, in the same old tired fashion. As I walk out, I can see the shirtless soaks in front, soft white slug-bodies still quivering for their metal heroes. I can see the quiet drinkers at the back, the closed-eye palsy-dancers whose blood-brain barriers have long lost the fight, the few genuine music freaks evaluating evaluating, the faintly bored expressions at the main board, the small gaggles of girls. Shiny, empty food stalls. Same old same old. Sigh. Or should that be Ah, sigh.

There are times when one can despair. What's the point.

Miles now stands for many seconds without support. Only a matter of time for that first step now, we think. And then its miles to go, isn't it?

Listen

If only more of us did. Listen, that is. Spent the last hour trying to teach three wannabe rockers Purple Haze. Ah, Jimi. You bent that thing of wood and steel, made it a cloudy lens, a dim crystal ball where future guitarslingers are still looking. For that muse you seemed to have made your mistress.

Playing in that so-called 'zone' I think, is more about listening. If you can hear each note before you play it, and can feel that electric-tight connection between your firing synapses and flash-ready fingers, if you can see your whole life being just about that moment before you step off the cliff and fly solo, if you can see your footprints on the waters of imagination, if you can chart your course to a distant unseen shore, and land on your feet with the change. Ah. That would be something.

Little Miles wants so much to walk. He's pretty steady on his feet now, can almost stand without support. This afternoon he reached up from the floor, grabbed my legs and made me walk along with him. He's such a joy. Five teeth and all. The chandy's have a little blog for little Kiarna, and I'm thinking that's a good idea.. maybe I should get one for Miles. Poor fella, he'll have to deal with all the stuff I write about him someday. Hope he doesn't get too mad.

Fierce Invalids

Just got through Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates. Robbins in top manic form. What I most enjoy about him is his irrepressible irreverance. Bend the World was inspired by Skinny Legs and All, and I'm sure once this one has cooked the poor noodle enough, some new creative sauce will emerge. Thank you, Mr. Robbins.

Have now picked up the Foundation series. Lets see how they go.

Plan Baby!

When TAAQ called its third album Plan B, we had only a foggy notion of our reasons for that nomenclature. Now we know. Two boys and two girls. They'll start as roadies soon, we hope...