Desi Melomane

Desi Melomane

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If there’s one thing we are all exceptionally good at, it is to criticize, carp, pass judgment and in the process, mock what others do. Oh come on, don’t be modest. Yes we do. Let’s say it together this time: Yes We Do!! I’m no saint and I’m a victim of that disease too. But instead of getting help to change my attitude, I decided to take the highway and put it to good use – by starting a blog to critique Music Albums! My love for music is something that keeps my motor running every day and it is only fair that I share the joy. My first post is up here and I’m excited! Do move along, read them and give me your feedback!

P.S: If anyone still cares, this blog is not going anywhere. I will continue to haunt you in the mild yet creepy way that I have always been fond of; because let’s face it, one can only tolerate so much change at a time right?

Cheers!

I Bet You Never Saw It Coming

I Bet You Never Saw It Coming

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“Let’s go Bananas! Bananas! Bananas! Bananas!

 Bananas! Bananas! Bananas!

 Let’s go Bananas! Bananas! Bananas! Bananas!

 Bananas! Bananas! Bananas!”

No, I haven’t had an episode of non compos mentis, nor have I indeed gone bananas. Not yet at least. This is the chorus from a song called ‘Hey Mr. DJ’ from the movie ‘Phata Poster Nikhla Hero’ which recently caught my attention on account of the ridiculous use of the word ‘Bananas’. It’s been used, brace yourself, FIFTY SIX times in the entire song, so much so that I have added it to the playlist titled ‘Listen when Constipated’ along with the likes of Lungi Dance from Chennai Express, Bang Bang from The Great Gatsby and Harlem Shake. Just to be clear, the name of the playlist is to be comprehended literally. Like literally.

I am the kind of person who smirks and sniggers crudely when I hear my parents or grandparents comment in utter disappointment and disapproval about ‘the songs these days.’ There is a video I saw recently about how a “brown” parent would have reacted to Wrecking Ball (Miley Cyrus). If you haven’t seen it yet, please do and you will agree with me that it is quite an accurate description of the aforementioned situation (maybe slightly exaggerated but hey, I’m not one to judge; either this video or the intended Miley Cyrus video). I mean, it’s understandable right? It is, after all, because of generation gap right?

Wrong.

If you pay attention to the songs these days, in particular the lyrics, this is probably how you would retort:

On a closer examination, I grasped that the songs fall broadly into the following six categories

(Note: A strictly Desi observation. Adjust please):

1)    Damn I’ve lost my vocabulary

Samuel Coleridge once said that poetry is nothing but the best words in the best order. I think the person who wrote the song, Malang from Dhoom 3 took it a little too seriously:

Dum malang malang

Dum dum malang malang

Malang malang dum dum

Malang malang, malang malang

Dum ishq, ishq hai malang mera

Yes, we understand that you are madly in love; besotted, infatuated and smitten. We get it. Really. What we don’t get is how one sings this song the first time without getting tongue-twisted. Try it. I mean it.

2)   The Yo Yo Honey Sting Phenomena

When he began his career with songs like Angrezi Beat from the album International Villager and the title track of the Tamil movie, Ethir Neechal, I was pleasantly surprised and it was quite frankly, refreshing to hear a different style of Desi Hip Hop/R&B in Bollywood. But now, whenever I listen to a new Hindi song, I wait in bated breath for the first fifteen seconds, desperately hoping that I won’t hear “Yo Yo Honey Singggghhhhuuuuuu!” Overdose. Plain and simple.

3)   Bitch, I can rhyme

I shall admit here that I find sentences with rhyming words absolutely fascinating, as is evident from some of my blog posts. I find unparalleled joy when my sentences rhyme. My friends have pointed out, exasperatedly, that I have been using them way more often than is advisable or humanly tolerable. In this backdrop, do you think it is at all possible for a person like me to find rhyming words in sentences weary and gross? Yes.

Blue Eyes, hypnotize teri kardi a mennu

I swear! Choti dress mein bomb lagdi mennu

           

Even though this song, Blue Eyes by the YoYoDude killed the charts, it also killed my soul and the little respect I had for him. The levels of laziness displayed in the lyrics never fail to bewilder me. Oh and one more of the YoYoDude from Lungi Dance:

Ghar pe jake tum Google karlo

Mere bare mein Wikipedia pe padlo

Creativity just died; and spins (not rolls) in its grave every time someone hears this song. Given everything said so far, it is only fair to expect crazy shit from a YoYoDude’s song but this is just too much ya. I weep for the future of Desi Music.

4)   Like you’re listening anyway

A Matt Groening said “I know all those words but that sentence makes no sense to me.” More often than not, we find ourselves in such a situation and that was precisely my response when I first heard the song Oye Boy Charlie:

O my baby baby

Tera chakkar chala jalebi

I did a Google search on what the second line meant and the result had me in splits: “Your whirlpool circles around me like a jalebi.” Now every time I have a Jalebi, I sing this line to the person next to me; which I now I realize is perhaps why people avoid me at weddings. Sigh.

5)  Pay me a million and I will come up with a word. A lousy non-existent word. Even two.

1 2 3 4 Get on the dance floor

Booty Shake Booty Shake

Dapaankoothu Hardcore

Shoulder Hichik Michik

Body Hichik Michik

Gimme gimme gimme gimme

Gimme gimme some more

Stop shaking your booty! And what the hell is hichik michik? I pray, from the very bottom of my heart, stop asking us to:
Give you Give you Give you Give you 
Give you Give you some more.
Whatever it may be.

6)   I was too cools for English grammar classes

It’s become acceptable these days to say “I do party all night.” What else do you do-do all night? And when will you stop do-doing whatever you did-do all night? And then there’s this beautiful and melodious song from Student of the Year called ‘Ishq Wala Love.’ Ishq means love. And love means, well, love. So what is Love Wala Love?

There’s probably more but I fear that if I keep digging, I may eventually stop listening to music altogether. Now that would be a catastrophe considering it is the only thing that’s keeping me from screaming at people in an Arnab Goswami fashion. So I guess all this proves is that, in a way, our parents’ and grandparents’ reactions are justified; and that we are headed in a path that has little or no direction. Basically it’s depressing. So whatodoo?

a) Turn off that part of your brain that has this intense desire to logically reason    everything.

b) Hit play on your iPod.

c) Let’s go Bananas! Bananas! Bananas! Bananas!

My Sexy Kadavul

My Sexy Kadavul

Posted by Unknown

Karan Thapar, the devil from Devil’s Advocate (CNN-IBN) once said in an interview that this person was a nightmare to interview. He said and I quote “In those days he was exceedingly shy; his long answer was ‘umm’ and his short answer was ‘um’. Most of his answers were ‘umm’.” He is a man of few words. To judge him based on that would be utterly foolish; for he is talent personified. Calling him a genius would be an understatement. I call him ‘sexy kadavul.’ The world calls him ‘Mozart of Madras.’ He calls himself AR Rahman.

I was recently watching his concert on TV and I realised that I was not alone, like always. My parents had long given up on refining my taste when it came to TV programs. I simply refused to watch Carnatic music concerts with my mother, football matches with my Brother, NDTV Profit with my Father or Sankara Channel with my Gran. I was more of a Star-World-Tom-and-Jerry-MTV person. So you can imagine my surprise when I found my entire family in the living room with me, listening to Rahman’s concert. I was faced with the hard fact that Rahman had united my highly dysfunctional family - it was equal parts amazing and creepy!

Rahman vastly influenced my childhood. I am told that I was three years old when I was first introduced to the music of Roja. Apparently I used to be a pain in the ass (you don’t say!) demanding to accompany my mother wherever she went. So my mother devised a ploy and played this cassette on the recorder. I sat there listening to it on repeat, while my mother made her secret trips to the market/grocery store and I didn’t even notice her absence. To this day, I keep thinking, proudly, that I belong to the generation that was alive when Rahman introduced himself to this world.

Right from writing an imaginary interview with Rahman for my English essay assignment to running to Music World every time his album released to cutting photos of him from every magazine and newspaper that was bought at home (much to my Father’s exasperation), he occupied a huge chunk of my childhood. It’s by far the most a celebrity has influenced me. Humility, simplicity and originality. That’s all it took for him to attract me. That’s all it took for him to be where he is now – on a plethora of success.

I have all his songs categorised as a separate genre in my iTunes. I can listen to his 4 hour concerts on re-runs. Rahman’s music is what is described as “kekka kekka dhaan pidikum” (repeated listening only stimulates liking). I am someone who has his lesser known tracks on repeat so that I will eventually start liking them. I cannot stand someone talking about him in terms of plagiarism or being repetitive – I jump to argue in his defence. I wait for his rare interviews to hear his beautiful mind (Check out this website BTW: http://whenrahmanspeaks.com/). China has declared that music has healing powers; for me, Rahman’s music heals everything. To summarise, Kollywood style, I walk Rahman, I talk Rahman, I eat Rahman. That’s how big a fan I am.

How big a fan are you?