Retro-spective

It’s been a while since I scoured the internet for new exciting music. In fact, I don’t remember the last time I sat at home glued to the laptop; it now lies untouched and unopened in a corner of the study table in our bedroom. Today, though, I spent the whole morning looking up music on Youtube, but instead of searching for new indie music as is my routine, I found myself gravitating towards the sound of the 80s. Or what we now quite fashionably call ‘retro’.

I feel bad for the 80s in a sense. It was an awkward period defined by spandex and outrageous hairdos. Nobody gave a damn about it when it was there, and now more than 2 decades later, everything about it has suddenly become cool. In fact, the reason I loved Daft Punk’s RAM or Tame Impala’s Currents or even Uptown Funk was its unmistakable retro touch.

Maybe that’s how nostalgia works. And that’s what age does to you. You start seeking comfort in the familiar. I’m now spinning this stellar number by Falco, and even doing a little dance as I listen to the inane song. Next up is Heart by Pet Shop Boys. Sounds like the beginning of a good weekend.

I’ve been thinking about this: if at all I open a cafe, I know what kind of music I’ll be playing. I have no idea about the decor or the menu or the feasibility of the whole thing, but hey, I have a playlist.

And ooh, I went to Bhutan a couple of weeks back, and brought back some zen and lots of that famous Bhutanese cheer. Let’s hope it lasts long enough!

Also, I’m a Fitbit person now; yeah, I now have a machine on my wrist that prods me to walk more than 10k steps a day. I was enthusiastic as hell the first couple of weeks, I could’ve walked to the moon and back. This week, I’m like, screw it, I’m not moving, but will hopefully make up for being lazy soon enough.

And if you haven’t watched The Jungle Book yet, go watch it. It’s the best movie I’ve seen in a long time, and it’s one of the few movies where I cared about each and every character on the screen. What a beautifully made film. So touching, so inspiring.

Blame it on the TV

There’s a 40-inch flat-screen TV in my living room. It’s bang in the middle, the centre of attraction. Every thing else in the room is kind of arranged around it.

When I really think about it, it seems downright silly and ridiculous that something as pointless as a TV should be the highlight of the room. And it’s becoming a bit of a problem for me. Because every time we have a party at home or have friends over, at some point in the conversation, M is playing music really loudly through the home theatre system and choosing songs from the TV screen through the Western Digital thing.

Of course, he’s cute and oh-so-savvy. But you know what happens immediately after that? People stop talking. They are glued to the TV. They are more particular about what song to play next, what artiste to choose, then someone wants to watch a music video, then a movie. Soon, people are trying to connect their phones to the TV or play songs through their bluetooth.

I like it when conversations flow freely and easily. And I hate my smug TV for bringing all this camaraderie to a screeching halt. Maybe I should move it to the bedroom but that again is terrible because it interferes with sleep quality. I keep telling M that we should simply play music in the background and make our conversations the real hero, not technology. Maybe someday he’ll listen. These men, I tell you.

Music sans lyrics

I’m listening to Manu Chao as I write this. I love it but I’m already making a mental note of what I will be listening to once this album ends – and I’ve zeroed in on Babasonicos. And strangely now, I can’t wait for ‘Clandestino’ to end, so I can move on to the next album already. There I go again, planning, organising and stressing over my playlist even as I’m trying to take a break.

I like listening to music in languages I’m not familiar with, partly because I’m very open-minded when it comes to music and partly because, sometimes, I don’t want to feel the weight of words. I want to just let the music move me, make me feel a myriad of emotions all at once. I don’t want to read deeper into the lyrics or assign meanings and intentions to a string of words.

So while I have no idea what S.M.O.D is going on about in Fitri Waleya, I love the fact that it’s catchy, that the music makes me feel good, tap my feet and hum along. I’m fully aware that the song has well-thought-out lyrics that speak of something extraordinary, and I do want to know what it’s about.

It is true that sometimes, understanding the lyrics changes the way you feel about a song. Every time I listen to a song by Sixto Rodriguez, I lose myself in the lyrics, because he’s a poet first, and a musician later. Here’s proof:

Cause my heart’s become a crooked hotel full of rumours
But it’s I who pays the rent for these fingered-face out-of-tuners
and I make 16 solid half hour friendships every evening

….Cause they told me everybody’s got to pay their dues
And I explained that I had overpaid them
So overdued I went to the company store
and the clerk there said that they had just been invaded
So I set sail in a teardrop and escaped beneath the doorsill

…Cause I see my people trying to drown the sun
In weekends of whiskey sours
Cause how many times can you wake up in this comic book and plant flowers?

– Cause, Sixto Rodriguez

It’s also because he sings in a language I understand; if he were to sing the same thing in Spanish, I don’t know if the lyrics would have made much sense to me.

Let me give you another example. My favourite song by Babasonicos, an Argentinian band I discovered a few years ago, is Yegua. I don’t know, for the life of me, what the song is about, but I listen to it over and over again, and the furthest I have gone to figuring out what the song means is to google ‘Yegua’:

Actual meaning: spanish for – mare aka a female horse.

Mexican slang: a term used when talking about women, not necessarily derogatory, it is more so used commonly as a means of stating ones special female friend. It is found to be more popular in the country sides of mexico where ranching and farming is usually found.

And surprisingly (or not), it had no bearing on the way I feel about the song. If anything, I now understand why the woman in the video is a yegua.

This extends to books and other forms of creative expression too. It calls for another post – one on limitations of language and how I think language also influences your thoughts and emotions, in some way.

Also, Orange Pond Connects shared this free online test to determine your personality type, and it’s freakily accurate. I got ESTJ – The Executive and while the test threw up a few little surprises, it mostly re-affirmed what I thought about myself. Take the test, just for kicks. You might also learn something new about yourself.

So long, folks. Have a wonderful day!

Salad days are coming

Zucchini, carrot, cucumber, onions, tomatoes, garlic, peppers with a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar, a dash of lime, some fresh coriander, pumpkin seeds, seasoned with some super yum Greek salad seasoning. 

I’m listening to A Whiter Shade Of Pale by Procol Harum as I type this. The song makes me happy and sad at the same time. It also strangely calms me, making me settle smoothly into my remarkably average routine. It could be the soundtrack to my life, honestly. The song is, of course, very sexual, lyrically. Somehow, when I listen to a song, it’s the music, the composition and the voice that catches my attention. It’s only much later that I focus on the lyrics. Which is probably why I haven’t given karaoke nights a chance.

Anyway, the last few weeks have been pretty good. I’ve had a couple of epiphanies about life, relationships and such; besides, focusing on my health and well-being has helped shape my thoughts, to some extent. I feel more positive and energetic, emotionally and physically. If I miss my evening walk for a day, I feel guilty. If I’m going out for a drink or dinner (where cheese will invariably make its way to my plate), I ensure I work out – I mean, walk – a little more the following day. An extra kilometre or two at least. And have a big bowl of salad and fruits. Also considering I’ve been a non-salad person all my life – I need my crispy, cheesy batter-fried snack – I’m surprised I’m actually liking salads these days. That’s a huge step. Long way to go though.

Home is where the clutter isn’t

This is where I work best

Today I tried working from a cafe. It’s the in-thing these days. Most freelancers, especially bloggers and writers, seem to be doing it. So I braved the 40 degree sun and headed to hipster central – Shahpur Jat, which in reality is quite an inhospitable area choking under the ugliness of its buildings. But I must say that it has character, mostly because of the amazing street art. I wish I’d taken some pictures.

In any case, the area has always had this oh-look-at-me-i’m-chaotic-and-chill vibe that only modern urban-chic villages have. High-end boutiques and designer studios thrive amidst chic cafes and pretty restaurants – you know, that kind of stuff. Which I like. But definitely cannot afford. It’s the clutter that I do not like. I guess creative people thrive in chaos. No wonder then that the place is full of artists and designers. I do not consider myself a creative person in that sense – I mean, I’m not an artist or a designer – and to function well, I have to de-clutter, organise, clean up. Even at home, things have to be in their right place; if I take something out, it has to go back immediately. No, it cannot wait. How can I focus on work when the floor rug is crooked. *promptly straightens it before proceeding to type

As usual, I have digressed majorly. So the thing is, I realised I work best from home. And while Pot Belly, the restaurant I tried to work from, has great wi-fi, tasty and reasonably-priced food, I’d choose my couch any day. It’s where I can slump sloppily, listen to any kind of music I like and wear loose comfortable clothes – yes, I am allowed to wear my favourite giraffe-printed shorts. Also, I’m most productive while working from home. It’s quiet, clean, everything is in order, and I can always saunter into the kitchen and eat/cook/drink whatever I want, whenever I want. It’s free.

Maybe next time, I’ll try a different place, where I can meet more people. Like this. For now, I’m stoked about watching Nucleya live here in a couple of hours.