Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Melomanic 4

I’ve been meaning to get myself to the Melomanic Sessions for some time now. Not out of professional interest (these things are sprouting like caterpillars!) or anything of the sort. Comment made to maintain due aloofness.

The atmosphere, as people keep commenting, is nice. There’s close, warm lights to counter the bareness of the warehouse (though not enough to balance the glare from the string-lights behind the performance space), and couches and whatnot bring some familiarity to the place – a bean-bag or two would have been just perfect! This paragraph was completely unnecessary. It gives away the fact that really, I have nothing to say and makes me sound every other random blogging person. I am not every other blogging person btw. Remember this.

So Imaad opens. Apparently he doesn’t do “covers or whatever you call them” so hits us with stuff off his “upcoming EP”. Lets not talk about EPs right now. His first two numbers were (I think) My Love and Love Is a Bird, that had, as he admitted, pretty much the same chords. This brings me back to – but we’re not talking about it right now. This guy is something like 21 years old but manages with some long hair to come off a little more mature. Good. I’m not much of a guitar person, but as accompaniment, his playing was nice. His voice is rather thin and obvious jitters made him waver a bit so he kept straining, but the instrument kept the vocals up admirably. And the vocals, though lacking polish and articulateness, were strong; he had the kind of punch one doesn’t expect from a wiry frame.

I couldn’t help notice how uncomfortable the boy looked perched precariously on the barstools lined up on the performance space, and was glad when Dani, vocalist for the next artist Not Another Metal Band, decided to do his thing standing. I’m sorry that sounded wrong. If it didn’t sound wrong, I’m sorry I have my moments. So Dani stands to sing and I am already hopeful. But honestly, I don’t understand the name. Technically, this has nothing to do with their performance, but it tells me they’re ambitious. And the ambition just might be not so off-the-mark. This guy also pushes his voice a bit (I mean, most singers do), but is otherwise smooth. Super falsetto and cool delivery makes a stark contrast between him and the rest of the band that were (from an amateur p.o.v) only alright. I can’t remember what covers they did, but I remember thinking they were not exactly easy, and so, I’d imagine a bit more accuracy and these could be very good indeed.

Now one man I expected would be “very good indeed” – to quote myself – is Asela. I don’t where the expectation came from; possibly the fact that he was involved in the organizing, and his namesake Bandara from Paranoid Earthling, but this I know: it was not fulfilled. In fact, I decided as he finished his first number that I would put my Complete Works of Shakespeare – Histories Vol. 2 aside, because there was enough murder in the atmosphere without Richard and Bolingbroke and the rest of the lot slaughtering each other in my head. I am hugely critical. I admit. People find it irritating to sit beside me at any event related to music/theatre. But honestly, something was wrong. I don’t listen to much alternative/acoustic anymore, so I actually came home and checked out Naked As We Came by Iron and Wine. It’s a lovely song, but I was left wondering whether Asela even sang the right notes! With all due respect, I am sure this was a bad day for him. If it wasn’t, I must have been in a super-lousy mood.

I probably was, because when Kei “and her little friend” the ukulele joined Asela for a duet, my mind was scream-dialing stage-911. Forget fashion police (its probably cheaper to maintain a reward-system for well-dressed people than the opposite: I should know!), get them in the music-force. Please. But I forget, it was my mood. Their second number together, You And I by Ingrid Michaelson with Dan Romer was miles better. The song itself is incredibly simple-souled and Kei’s coy smiling and carefree singing (unfortunately completely shadowed – for me at least! – by her attire (or the lack of it) and killer heels) did the whole thing a nice shade of quaint. They were both obviously much more relaxed by then, and I was made happy. Thank you!

The men were the beginning and end of all things that night, so we had Kavya immediately after Kei. Finally. The sound system was overdoing it by this time, but that hardly compromised the maturity of the voice and performance. Even the two boys who played guitar for her and also sang were so much more confident. Their rendition of Nickelback’s ‘Hero’ was impressive to say the least; Kavya doing some super-controlled ornaments and smooth voice modulation.

Salvage after these was good. They’d built the space for some noise. And I realized why people rave about CC’s voice. (note: that sort-of rhymed). After last year’s TNL Onstage (shudder!) I was really confused about all the hype and discovered at ‘Melomanic’ that he can shout. There’s good strength in the lungs there and decent pitch. He just seems to have a tendency to overestimate himself. But we are going to be very forgiving, if not in consideration of the coolness of creating a thing like ‘Melomanic’, then in consideration of the face he possesses. Their cover of Flood by Jars of Clay got people (me) pumped though the instruments and voices didn’t gel so well together. Storm and Sunshine (provided this is what they were called) fared better after the warm-up.

Either way, the crowd (and we kept hearing it was bigger than last time) was hyped by the end of this set, and Gehan was understandably worried about being next in line. I am possibly biased, but in all honesty, the worry was unwarranted. The keyboard involvement complicated matters a bit, a heavy left range drowning him, but this was the best controlled voice in the program so far. He was also by far the only singer that absorbed in the music, a refreshing thing, though not always good.

And then along came Natasha from a completely different league. Her voice is mellow and more definitely controlled, and when she talks of Barbershop quartets the coin drops. She’s been trained. At the risk of sounding sadly old-school I assert and maintain: it made a huge difference. But then her numbers were not right for the crowd, and the arrangement of In the Still of the Night not right for the duet with Svetlana. Pity’s the thing because a good artist knows her platform and her audience, though these two were the best voices. Hands down.

After that little anti-climax CC brought on Cynosure to send people home “feeling good”. These boys are so enthusiastic and vocalist Shezri (three cheers for facebook band-pages!) having so much fun dancing around that it’s impossible not to get a little bubbly and giddy. He lost pitch here and there, but infectious harmonies (despite being simple and predictable) and an odd genuineness to the whole thing made up completely.

So that’s that.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

In Praise

In the praise of a man…

 

In the praise of his flowing hair

I forgot, O Lord,

a crown of thorns.

In the praise of his mellow voice

I forgot, O Lord,

the breath of Life.

 

In the praise of his strong arms,

wrinkled elbows, the tender crook

I forgot, O Lord,

shoulders. bearing weights.

heavy weights.

burdens.

sin. fear. shame. anger. lust. hate.

 

In the praise of his fine hands,

tap’ring fingers, the shocking touch

I forgot, O Lord,

wrists.

skin bruised. pierced.

flesh torn. ripped. shredded.

bone cracked broken crushed. shattered.

 

In the praise of his shining skin

glowing soft coveted honey of bees

I forgot, O Lord,

a back.

lashed.

red. lashed.

cut. lashed.

blood. lashed.

open flesh. lashed.

gaping wound. lashed.

throbbing muscle. lashed.

screaming nerves. lashed.

naked bone. gleaming lashed.

numb.

lashed.

lashed. lashed. lashed. gasp lashed. lashed. moan lashed. lashed. teeth chatter. lashed. bladder leaks lashed. lights. lashed. blur. lashed. black.

And we are not even half done.

 

In the praise of a man

I forgot his maker.

 

O Lord, have mercy on me.

* “They exchanged the truth about God for a lie, and worshiped and served created things rather than the creator – who is forever praised. Amen.” Romans 1:25 (NIV)

My thoughts on the future.

I have been wasting too much time today (and yesterday, and the day before, and for many many days before that) in front of the computer, producing ZERO work. So, despite the fact that there are now two computer screens and four hands (two left and two right, the middle two oddly juxtaposed onto each other - the wonders of our sensory system, really!) in front of my eyes (I jumped the gun with the "sensory system" comment there it seems...) I WILL WRITE.

The elder places of a "young mind" doesn't seem all that accurate a description of the source of these rants anymore. I am starting to worry. As much as I drill myself to walk the walk and trust that "so much more" will God provide for me, my thoughts often go to actually having to foot my own bills rather than doing it simply because it gives me a kick. I have come to another one of those places.

Suddenly it's all about my "plans" again. With only six months left to go with the blasted degree, people want to know what I'm "going to do next". So far, I have not had a problem with the question because:

a.) I don't worry much
b.) I have (and always have had) a (very vague) "plan"
c.) Talking about it helps sort things further
d.) It also allows me to enjoy the sounds of my voice
e.) I love the sound of my voice
f.) I'm so much fun to listen to
g.) People don't always care so very few problems occur in the rare instance my monologue develops into an actually conversation/discussion
h.) If a problem occurs I can always still enjoy the sound of my voice
i.) I'm so much fun to listen to!

But I really do have a problem. But you already knew that. Only you never knew what the problem was. Good.

Bite me.

*And forgive me the arrogance of deciding to leave in the typo.


Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Choices

Honestly, University is not something I'm doing by choice. It's something I've been forced to do because of something I promised myself sometime back. The time between my ALs and University entrance was spent in search of "what to do next". The decision was that if I found something worthwhile (i.e. a full scholarship to music school in the US or something similar) I would be allowed to take that path; if not, I would to the Special Degree and get a BA from the University of Peradeniya. This was in order to please my mother and the rest of family because I remembered the disappointment they suffered at my OL results. I didn't wanna let them down ever again. So, that time between my ALs and University entrance was spent searching, but nothing was found. (Actually, an almost-full scholarship to the US was found, but a sense of patriotism and the fact that the school wasn't all that good led me to decline the offer.) So, I was left to keep my word to myself and start Uni.

Two months down the line, I'm looking at the whole experience and I'm still seeing it objectively. It's not as awesome as I expected it to be. It's not as "unforgettable" as people said it would be, and I can't see how I could have "regretted" not doing it, but it's ok. I'm learning something; here and there.

But I still wanna play piano. I want to be able to drown in the strength of my fingers. I want to be lifted up on Mozart's genius. I want to be enveloped in the darkness of Beethoven. I want to be lost in Sculthorpe. I want to be recreated by Blake. I don't even mind some Chopin at this point. But I can't.

It's not that I can't play the piano anymore; it's just that I can't play as well. I know this might be just 'making excuses', but honestly, to play the way I want to play, I need to put in more time than I can afford at this point. It's not that I chose it. I just chose it. I didn't realize that university would mean no more six to eight hours of sweat-inducing, heart-wrenching, gut-pouring piano. I didn't want this. And I don't want to be just another 'somebody' who plays the piano. I don't care what this sounds like, but I'm more than that with my soul on my fingers.

So don't act like I chose this. I chose this, but not by choice.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Thank-you for the Music

I am trying to remember when I last left an account of the latest ‘happenings’ in my life. I can’t. So I will sum up these few post-exam weeks with “boringly busy” or “busily boring”, whichever suits the moment. Yesterday was tiring as hell, and so was today, but today… it was something more.


I spent the day at Dees’. This meant an argument early in the morning with mum about why I’m going, what time I’m going, how I’m going, how I’m coming back, what time I’m coming back and all sorts of absolutely irrelevant and unnecessary little details about the visit. It did not help that Dee had called late last night (or more precisely, early this morning) and told my mother something to the effect of “this can’t happen”… so after roughly an hour of arguing (after like an hour of sleep too!) mum leaves and I decide that I must also leave. But this act of ‘leaving’ as many of you will know, comprises many other smaller acts (ex: breakfast, choosing attire, changing the choice of attire, trying on the attire, taking off the attire, showering, putting on the attire, changing the attire etc…) which take up roughly another hour. So the nine-thirty rendezvous was delayed to ten, and actually happened closer to eleven. Anyway!


My gosh, I had missed this woman! The first hour or so we spent on a sequence of events similar to that described above which took up my time between deciding to leave and actually leaving (minus breakfast and the shower) during which we decided (or tried to decide) on what I would wear for that not-all-important event taking place on Saturday evening which I was not even sure of attending. But this is not what I wanted to talk about!


Ah, yes. First remarkable event of the day: It’s not exactly an event, it’s a movie.
“Big Fish” starring that absolutely adorable guy from Moulin Rouge with the absolutely GEORGOUS voice (yeah I can’t remember his name, something like … Finney? No way)! *faint! Directed by Tim Burton. Sounded good to me. The story is basically about a storyteller. His story is the story of his life. The problem is, he (like some other people we know) exaggerates a bit, and this leaves his son (who believed the stories until he was a little too old to believe them) thinking his dads’ a fake etc, etc… the movie doesn’t really prove a point, but it’s a great watch, a few typically Tim warped moments, some told-a-million-times-over but hilarious jokes and the feeling at the end like some searing hot liquid that burns your throat and brings tears to your eyes but makes your stomach warm and bubbly, leaving you happy. Really. The end is just amazing. Maybe the whole point of the movie is that there’s no point. A persons’ life story doesn’t really have to prove point as long as it’s interesting, because in the end, it’s just a story.


Either way, everyone needs to watch that movie.


The Second remarkable event of the day was a revival of the ancient tradition of whacking vague chords on the piano and calling it ‘improvisation’. Actually it’s more like mystic composition but I can’t expect normal human beings to understand the concept, so… yes, Dee and I sat at the piano together after about a year, the last time we did the same together being the 1st of October, 2006 at a certain event dubbed ‘Viva la Musica’ where I think we manage to scrape through with quite a good farce, together with Shez tapping a kala-gediya. The experience was amazing. “Amazing” here my hearts, does not mean the regular kind of amazing. It was so amazing, it lifted us up off the piano stool, threw us on the floor and had us shaking and tearing with laughter.


I had forgotten completely how good it felt to just play random chords and tunes on the piano with somebody else, and have that stuff ring through your flesh and bones into your soul. Damn, I had forgotten how good we were at this thing called improvising. I had always felt the power of the bond which is created through making music together. But after months and almost years of not doing this, I had forgotten. The experience brought back so many memories of choir practice in our little school chapel, sitting around the piano just humming random harmonies and rapping random rhymes while Dee played random chords. It also brought back memories of those hours during which she and I made the other choristers sit around the piano and listen to our painfully personalized renditions of Evanescence and the like.
It’s sad her parents are packing her off to Colombo, but it’s also good cus she’s finally getting the chance to do something the way she wants to. So I don’t know how I should feel. I think I’ve decided to be neutral about it, and look forward to seeing her in colo (without her parents!). these meetings are bound to be ‘happa’ as I’m making sure she takes ‘Our Sketch Book’ with her [ this book by the way, is a great book of our compositions which have very enlightening names such as ‘A-minor’, ‘D-minor’, ‘Five-three’ and ‘Staccatto’ – we have got as far as the table of contents].


(sigh!)


I think I’ll miss the woman more than I plan to, but that’s the way these things happen isn’t it?


Look out for the phenomenal debut album!