discography of me- part 1, (albeit a little too hyphonated).

although, the comments don't reflect it, certain sections have subtly (and not so subtly) hinted that its getting too diatribe-ish, vendetta-esque, ranting looney- like (oooh i'm liking this hyphonated odyssey).
so to cater to the palettes of those subtle (and not so subtle) epicurean connoisseurs, i shall present the decent aspect of my personality, my taste in music. when i started writing this blog i thought i'd include music reviews of artists forgotten by the world at large , to serve the double purpose of appearing like an indie- arty-bohemian-chutzpah type and ofcourse attracting more traffic. to be honest i've had notions of people flocking to my site and the stat counter swelling and me getting a fabulous book deal because of my astounding talent and writing the fabled book in an exotic place, say marrakesh,and abetted, by a fabulous bronzed muscle-ey muse. sigh......
anyway, before i start reviewing music by little known artists i thought it prudent to put my own musical history upfront. like everything else, this too is a story.
it didn't begin in 1983. ofcourse not. but much before that. when my mom was pregnant with me and dad decided to play the saturday night fever soundtrack till the tape frayed. then he switched to boney-m , and before they could ra ra rasputin for the billionth time, mercifullly i came out into the world. but relief was shortlived in a house that swayed to "shes crazy like a fool, but what about daddy cool?". it was only a matter of time before dad switched over to cat stevens. i admit i like cat stevens. that song about morning breaking and what not is an eternal favourite. but not too much boney-m or the bee gees, (too girly)
then dad got tranferred to mumbai for nine years and these years i refer to as halcyon days because dad brought some eclectic music from mumbai, marathi bhajjans to samantha fox i listened them all. between dads marathi cuss words and the bhajjans, i can say i even learnt spoken marathi. i developed a huge crush on morten harkett, the lead singer of A-HA who looked like a perfectly chisled norse god.

i had a terrible time in school, during the nascent years, because nothing made sense. everything was confusing and i was always falling sick. i used to fall sick for months on end, and be alone at home with my grandmom. she had this wonderful habit of keeping her pet transistor near my ear and this mellifluous voice, would break out in karnatic rhythms and restructure the haze in my mind. karnatic music is one of those wonderfull genres of music, that bring order among chaos. i loved M.S, gangu bhai hangal and bala murali Krishna , the latter especially, singing, “bhagyada lakshmi baramma”

when the 90's broke and MTV came into our house, i got my first lesson in culture. women abroad dont wear six metres of cloth. it took 3rd standard intelligence to fully comprehend that shock. I was finicky eater (still am ), and would steafastedly refuse to eat lunch, so dad decided to literally hand feed me in the morning with the treat that I could watch MTV most wanted. This is my favourite memory in life. The first video that made an impression on me was chris de burgh’s lady in red. My mornings rocked. I saw the video of November rain and was utterly bowled over. It was so popular that it was requested every morning, I could even guess the timing of the video. Then there was this cool song by john secada, that my father absolutely loved and the food plate would start to sway. But my favourite video was one by Madonna oddly (and we are talking strictly of videos here). It was for this song called “my playground”, and the video was in the form of a photo album and very gimmicky. It was oddly stimulating.

Because of my poor eating habits, my parents put me in another school. I loved it. It had a swimming pool right in the middle. It was so calming, and all the other girls had this snooty habit of calling you a nondescript “girly”. I loved it there. sadly the early morning hand feeding from dad came to an end. The upper class girlies predictably welcomed the backstreet boys with open arms and made them richer by buying their posters by the droves. The snooty clique, whom every would copy, used to coo and purr when BB went “ quit playing games with my heart”, and that whole wet clothes in an basket ball court routine, had the entire school drooling.(retrospectively, Egad!). In an 8th standard hottest men pole. The backstreet boys occupied the first 5 slots and boyzone the other five. In 9th standard, there was a huge upset, boyzone occupied the first 4 slots (Stephen gately declared he was gay, and thus broke hazaar hearts, incidently that announcement saw a massive drop in boyzone merchandise), peter andre came in 5th, while the backstreet boys evidently on the wane, occupied the last 5 positions. Since I was not in the snooty clique, I was not privy to such polling, then some of them got married, many girls shed a lot of tears, BB posters were burnt, the tapes were abandoned , or passed down to hapless 8thies, if you were especially sadistic and everybody parted company in the 10th in relatively good spirits, owing partly to numbers like the Macarena, the spice girls etc.

It was in 11th and 12th that a huge musical tide swept me. This one was of the world music variety. Alyesha and I had become best friends and I avidly drank up her arab music collection. I’ll unashamedly admit to being partial to Amr Diab. No one can quite muster “habibie” like he did. I listened to a lot of arab tribal music, good bit of Arab pop, learnt some fine points about belly dancing and interesting stuff like that. Alyesha also had the entire collection of the Eagles. Since “hotel California” was done to death and literally put out to pasture, piqued, I sampled “hell freezes over” and fell in love. “tequila sunrise” is a song that gives you a taste of what it feels like to be in love. It was a bet between ‘lysh and me that got me listening to simon and garfunkel. Reading the poetry of T.S eliot and listening to S & G, are the memories that stick with me of 11th and 12th. What a charming prelude to the raging inferno that music experience in college turned out to be.