The New Barbarian

Friday, November 26, 2010

Commander Harken: Battle of Serenity Valley took place there, if I recall.

Capt. Malcolm Reynolds: I believe you might be right.

Harken: Independents suffered a pretty crushing defeat there. Some say that after Serenity the browncoats were through, the war ended in that valley.

Reynolds: Hmm.

Harken: Seems odd you'd name your ship after a battle you were on the wrong side of.

Reynolds: May have been the losing side. Still not convinced it was the wrong one.

Seas would rise when I gave the word

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

"After a race in which Michael Schumacher was almost decapitated and Sebastian Vettel became Germany’s second Formula One world champion you could almost picture the headlines: ‘The king is dead. Long live the king’."

That is what The Telegraph UK had to say.

Just you wait haters, just you wait.

I'm waiting as well.

A New King's Born Today

Monday, November 15, 2010

OK, he was coronated yesterday. My bad.

What a season. WHAT. A. FUCKING. SEASON. It would be fair to say that in a season where four people were potentially in with a shot at the title in the last race, any one of them would've been a worthy champion. NOT ALONSO I SAY. But that's just me. I don't like his face, or indeed, anything else that has endeared him to some turncoats who rooted for him after having been dedicated(this stands to reason now) Schumacher loyalists at one point.

Speaking of Schumacher loyalists. I still am one ('HAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH', I can hear you erupt... dude... don't choke now, drink some water). Yes. It has been a HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA season. It's been humiliating. It's been infuriating. It's been sad. I get that. I totally get that. But isn't that the whole point of being faithful to something?(Ooooh, heavy shit). I am not going to drop the 'doubt is a part of all religions' bomb (oh wait, I just did) but yes, that might be what I'm getting at. Here's to irrationally and stupidly hoping(and of course, praying) Schumi-Brawn get it right next year. And shut those fuckers up.

Sebastian Vettel, you are THE MACHA. Despite all that negative stupid press claptrap shadowing him ('His racecraft needs honing', 'He can only win from pole', 'He wins because he is RBR's darling', etc) throughout. Even Martin Whitmarsh dismissed him as a 'crash kid'. Thank you for giving me something to cheer about, something to take back from this monumentally crappy second half of the year. Much love to Luscious Liz and Randy Mandy. Multiple World Champion, FOSHO.

Red Bull for the way they went about it. Though their 'giving both drivers an equal shot' approach was criticized, they were vindicated at Yas Marina. It's scary imagining what would have happened if they had switched Vettel and Webber back in Brazil. I'll tell you what would have happened. Tamil in Persian script would have happened. The reason Ferrari ended up playing gillli-danda with their strategy is because they kept thinking of their man's position in relation to Webber(who had a bad weekend overall). They got jacked, big time. They should have paid more attention to finishing fourth, instead of trying to second-guess Webber and his pit-calls.

Special mention to Lewis Hamilton, Jenson Button and Mark Webber for having played their part. Even people like Kubica and Rosberg who quietly went about showing the world that they are potential champions-in-waiting who were handicapped by a stale vada of a car. Kobayashi for being the living, crashing and rampaging Gult movie on track at all times. Branson and Fernandes for acting like retards (with their bet) and Branson for being a (likeable) retard by honouring it. Vitaly Petrov! What badassery! It's deliciously ironic how Renault ended up thwarting the championship hopes of their ex-soanpaapdi. AAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH Alonso. Campion-del-Mundo failure GAHAHAHAHAHHA.

And isn't it poetic that Schumacher(albeit indirectly and extremely stupidly and embarrassingly) had a role to play in denying Alonso and the Scuderia the Championship? If he hadn't spun there and if Liuzzi's car hadn't ended up intercoursing the MGP W01, there would have been no safety car period. If that hadn't happened, Petrov and Rosberg wouldn't have pitted so early in the race. Petrov wouldn't have been in front of Alonso for over 30 laps as a result. Kubica wouldn't have been able to pit and retain track position ahead of Alonso. Alonso would have managed fourth.

Vettel would not have been world champion.


And Old Man, don't turn in your dentures just yet. We've got work to do.

Oh Carol

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Don't let him steal your heart away

And what else had I not expected?

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Look at what I stumbled upon today.

It's wayyy too dhinchak for me to say I like it more than the original, but...


Moment of Silence

Sunday, September 5, 2010

For Shoya Tomizawa, much loved in the MotoGP paddock.

And 13-year-old Peter Lenz who lost his life at the Indianapolis support race last week.

Misano, 5th September, 2010.

RIP, Shoya.

'Anything that happens before or after... is just waiting.'

what's that in your eye?

Saturday, September 4, 2010

come away, take a second
shoot yourself some time
dissolve some hair
in a flashy red beaker
drop out of it
and fall in right here
stick a foot out
and poke the
electric blue mashiakh
spin a jackrabbit
on your bleeding kneecap
way, farther down
feel a raised little nub
and lop off several
fragrant and squishy heads
grow some under
that fake medullar module
of that raised
and intensely luminiscent pinhead
there they were
languidly, smirkingly
casting some more
certainties mixed up
with a few what-ifs
and the rest
just bled slowly
slowly, ever so
ever more slowly
out on the sickly sweet
run on it and
keep on till
they tell you
to go further on

In My Fist

Friday, August 20, 2010

I can see it but
my fingers keep
telling me
forty-six and a quarter
flamingly mindbending
lies and blurtruths
which are one and the same
Of course
What's wrong with me
Stretched my legs
on the responsive bed
And let
my big fat head
Fall back en route
to the welcoming pillow
But why is it taking
a thousand phone calls
to a capsicum-eating toad?
When will my sodding head
get to the crashing pillow?
Where am I at?
Are we there yet?
Oh, come on, come on



Thursday, August 19, 2010

OK, this one's from 'No Stone Unturned'. Appropriately named and all, but if you dismiss this as a mere 'Green Onions' ripoff, I'll appear in your nightmares and scream in bad Tamil while impersonating an overexcited cow. 'Green Onions' is great, so is 'Stoned'. Actually, I find the first 50 seconds of the song slightly annoying.

Then a certain Keith Richards' guitar kicks in. All is well with the world again.


Heavy Cloud / Where am I at?

Sunday, August 15, 2010

And now that we're grounded
Stick your tongue out and taste
The calamity hanging in the air
Enough of running and evading
Evilly, scarily shrouded
Ghostly and misty angelheads

Stop and breathe for a second
Something wearily beckons
And down comes the red rain
We've got to salvage something
Something precious, something treasured
Something from these remains

Now we stand defenceless
We'll be knocked out senseless
Now that the bubbling volcanoes
They have us arraigned
Don't bother thinking
Forget about reasoning
Take my trembling hand

And let's go down
In a great wall of flames

Every day I have the Blues

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Muddy Waters, BB King and Buddy Guy on one hand, Eric Clapton, Keith Richards and Jeff Beck on the other. I just can't stop listening to these Gurudevs.

Particularly Keith's version of Cocaine Blues:

PS: And this one for purely sentimental and true-to-current-imaginary-scenarios reasons:

Go sleep.

Schmatte, schmatte, SCHMATTE! I'm in TATTERS!


Sunday, August 1, 2010

Towards the end of class 9, during the final exam jiving and the irritation and inconveniences of shifting, there was one song that was incessantly blasting in my head's internal soundsystem.

Yudhajit had acquired the cassette and it was on heavy rotation on our respective Walkmen. And the lyrics are gaining in volume(internally) all over again ever since I watched Bullet In A Bible.

It didn't say much but it only confirmed
That the centre of the earth is the end of the world

And I could really care less. Really.


Wednesday, June 30, 2010

I thought I saw you in that movie
And I stayed up all night red-eyed
You froze out of the screen trembling
Like a leaf in the high winds might
Silently, you drew ever closer
I saw the twinkle in your firelit eyes
You whispered those freeing words
And my restive heart got some respite
Time won't wait any longer
Got to keep this dimming lamp alive
The riches at the end of the rainbow
Those are all that we need to find
And on the wave of these stolen moments
We will soar high, and dissolve out of sight

My wish of being named Casey Stoner seems to have been granted, don't you think? Call your annoying mutts off. NOW.

Whole Lotta Love?

Thursday, June 24, 2010

June 22nd was a really, really special day for four reasons, though the fourth one is utterly unimportant.

1. 'Stones in Exile' was released on that day. AND I SHALL WATCH IT TOMORROW.
2. Marshall Mathers finally got his 'Recovery' out of the way. Going by the initial reviews, I think I'll like it. My only gripe is that Dr. Dre has produced only one track.
3. John Isner and Nicolas Mahut started playing their megamatch on that day.
4. I told you the fourth reason is unimportant. Go away.

* It's here, then it's gone.

And so it goes on

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

This one's been stuck for the past week or so and yes, it's rather appropriate.

'Yeah, when the train left the station
It had two lights on behind
Whoa, the blue light was my baby
And the red light was my mind'

'It's hard to tell, it's hard to tell... when all your love's in vain.' *

And Stana Katic is my crush of the month. Sigh.

* Love In Vain (Let It Bleed) - The Rolling Stones

Cocksucker Blues

Monday, May 3, 2010

I shall reveal to you, my nonexistent reader, the ultimate and highest truth, the wisdom of the ages which no one has been able to apprehend yet.

It doesn't matter whether the brahman/atman is real or unreal, static or dynamic, existent or non-existent, barbecue sauce or non-barbecue sauce.

What matters though, is that the grades that we will receive will be real, static, existent, unmodifiable, immutable and most definitely, they will NOT be barbecue sauce.

And all those seers and rishis from centuries ago created tomes and tomes of irrelevant 'concepts' and 'truths' - obviously while being stoned out of their minds. Who knows, they might have had an awesome sense of humour and therefore they are responsible for a trip that has lasted for centuries now and is showing no signs of going anywhere.

I'm sure they've been laughing their asses off all these days. For them, this is just one long, MEGA-trip.

Gimme, gimme shelter

Sunday, April 25, 2010

This is prophetic/indicative/purely coincidental, whichever way you want to see it. But it happened thrice in the course of 12 hours, so there must be something to it. Even if there isn't.

My playlist on Winamp had some 120-odd songs, comprising artistes like Muddy Waters, The Rolling Stones, Circa Survive, The Prodigy, Massive Attack, The Tallest Man on Earth, The Police, The National, Eminem, Swervedriver, Kyuss, Tool, Run DMC, Beastie Boys, Queens of the Stone Age, Mos Def and some more. And the shuffle mode was on.

For reasons I shall keep to myself, I generally let the music play when I'm away for short periods of time. So, yesterday, when I got back from dinner, Merry Clayton was screaming, 'Rape... Murder. It's just a shot away, it's just a shot away.' I obviously didn't think much of it, but yes, it was a nice thing to hear because I just can't get enough of that song and that album.

Then again, when I was returning at half past 2 in the morning from - you don't need to know - I heard Keith and Bill rocking it out with those haunting chords. Same song.

And then the crowning glory was when I came back from lunch today. Shoving the key into the lock, I heard Mick going, 'If I don't get some shelter, oh yeah, I'm gonna fade away.' Of all those hundred songs, this is the one that had to somehow waft from the speakers as I approached the locked door of Pamba 516. And then I thought a lot of thoughts.

Most of those thoughts were about the endsem which I am about to write tomorrow.

Somewhere, a wild boar sucking on an ice-lolly is burping contentedly. Maybe I should just be an eco-friendly doormat and turn off my laptop when I'm away.

One Lysol-Vermouth. And lots of those olives.

Saturday, April 24, 2010

One eminent personality says that relying on a 'stream-of-consciousness' method of excreting words, sentences and exam answers, for that matter, is never a good idea.

Why, in the name of all that tries to be acceptable, would good ideas find a place here?

Hey, that fatfaced monkey is chomping on your slippers! Obese men in thongs are dancing evil dances on your bed! There is an army of murderous gnats hovering right outside your window!

But you're still here. So you might as well.

Sin city had this news
Some of them were human too
Swiveled out of harm's reach
Gunshots locked in a clattering medley

Free Surrender
Hope's just running
Holes are cut away

The only way they'll believe you
Is when they see you run away

Slaying trucking giant
Flaying and ducking crates

Run, swim Strake O'Cronwell
Hell is on your plate

Bled for your mezcal
Slid down it rough-shod
Slot into death row
Fed on your anger
Preyed on your smugness
Misread the fine print
Crashed into a stonewall

Would that be all?

Gone, snuffed out
Bled out of
The impassive sky
Oh, what a mess

Where did the cleaners run off to?

The Stones. Forever.

Saturday, April 10, 2010

A rather stupid debate. And there probably isn’t one at all. The Beatles vs. The Rolling Stones. No contest. They are both the greatest. Or there will be some who will say that The Beatles are the greatest, and by a considerable margin.

The funny thing is, I listened to The Beatles first. I remember ripping CDs of ‘The White Album’, ‘Sgt. Peppers’ Lonely Hearts Club Band’, ‘Rubber Soul’ and ‘Revolver’ when I was in class 8. And I listened to them then and liked them alright. I mean, we all had questionable tastes back then. If you say you didn’t like Linkin’ Park when you were 13, I’ll smash your beauteous face in.

But now, it’s The Rolling Stones. All the way. I’ve listened to everything by them now. Ah, and the best part is, they might just have yet another album left in them. And for the better part of five decades now, they have been the greatest live band of them all. Their energy, even at this age has to be seen to be believed. In 2007, they were the top-grossing band in the world. And the magic still endures. Just watch Scorsese’s ‘Shine A Light’, and you will know what I’m talking about.

Mick Jagger is the greatest frontman of them all and is still the loaded gun he’s always been. And Keith, well, what can I say about him that hasn’t already been said? Sorry, Lennon-McCartney but Jagger-Richards are way, wayyyy cooler.

The Stones have rocked my world in a way The Beatles never could.

Somehow, All You Need Is Love will never resonate with me the way Jumpin’ Jack Flash does.

Last name: Ever, First name: Greatest. Totally.

Wish my name was Casey Stoner

Friday, April 9, 2010

Sugary equivocation from the setting sun
I might not be the only one
You're not there to break my fall
Your one touch could've healed it all
And I just die, drop by drop
Wish she'd told me when to stop
Floating with these wavering shadows
Splattering the impassive ceiling
Searching for your dogdy outlines
Marking out your lines in the shifting shapes
The scraggly troubadour's soaring wails
Cutting up this frozen night into two
Come let's get going one more time
Let's spin the wheel once again, it'll all be fine
Or you can just leave this place
And be someone else's someone else

This is NOT an attempt at potery. Shit, poetry. My rhyming is horrible, so is my sense of form and rhythm.

And Lionel Messi is the reason why. Of course he isn't, what am I saying.

It's like waking up from a really nice dream and finding yourself naked on a busy highway with mice hard at work on all your orifices.

And this too

Saturday, April 3, 2010

It's all very well reading exquisitely brilliant poetry, with all of that jaw-droppingly magnificent imagery, the slick craft, the mesmerizing flow and symmetry and turning those lines over and over again in your head, realizing that some things are just too fantastic to be written and yet for the particular writer they somehow weren't. And you reverently genuflect in front of such dazzlingly fantabulous artistry.

But there's another side to it too. Something nasty, vile, repulsive, ghastly and yet something that rips out your heartstrings or stretches your gallbladder out on a cycle rim and then does a John Bonham on it. That isn't what you'd call appreciating.

That, my non-existent readers, is what you'd call feeling. Or, in this case, feeling the shit.

The more you... put me through
The more it makes me wanna come back to you
You say you hate me, I just love you more
You don't want me, I just want you more
I buy you flowers, you throw 'em at me
I know it's sad but it's making me happy
The more that you slap me, the more that it turns me on
Cause you love me, and I love you more

What you say, what you do
I'ma hunt you down 'til I find you
No matter where you run, I'll be right there
Right behind you, in your nightmares
All the flowers, and the candy
All the times that you threw it back at me
You told me you hate me, you're gonna hate me more
When you find out, you can't escape me whore

Marshall Bruce Mathers III. From the track Love You More from the bootlegged 2003 EP, Straight From The Lab.

I know it's sad but it's making me happy.

Altered Cerium

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

“For god’s sake, will you change into 4th? You want to rev the nuts off this snotbox?”

“Hell, yeah”, I say noncommittally and slot it into fourth. “Why are we even doing this? And what the hell is going on?”

“The Leaf said we’re supposed to keep on driving, and that’s exactly what we are going to do. And let’s not try to act smart. We’ve gotten this far. We’ve survived the encounter with Ratzen. And we can’t afford to blow this up. Focus. FOCUS!”

“Okay, okay, OKAY. But I’m not exactly pleased with what I am seeing.”

I really wasn’t. The sky was on fire. In sharp contrast to the sky was a towering structure owned by The Syndicate (or so the gargantuan neon signboard claimed). It looked like an enlargement of the internal mechanism of one of those ancient gearboxes, the cogs engaging and disengaging with deafening noises that threatened to rip the ground apart.

She goaded me on: “Shut up and drive. We need to get to wherever we need to be as soon as possible.”

“I’m not sure if we should.”

“Then you’re not sure if we shouldn’t.”

We were driving on a bridge over what used to be the river Qailaiea. Now it was a dynamic, shiny black mass of slime that stank to the high heavens. Unable to take it any longer, I puked all over the dashboard and swerved violently. The car broke through the iron railings and was free-falling into the darkness below.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” she yelled, and tried to grab at my throat in vain.

“Fuck this”, I shouted back.

And we went under.

Bad in the saddle again

Friday, March 12, 2010

Yes, I'm fucking bad. But you can't stop me, can you?

More importantly, why on earth would you even want to? Don't you have worthwhile things to do in life?

Chew on this though: Sometimes, mind you, just sometimes, Pac's words ring truer than Hume's. Or Hobbes'. Or Locke's. Or Rohit Gurunath Sharma's, for that matter.

I was just saying...

It is dreary by day and fusty by night
The firebrands glow in the sodium-lamp’s light

Baleful moon, through these rusted bars be my guide
In your slithering shadows, pray, let me hide

Her eyes had scorched my senses, not unlike the noontime sun
My obsession for her justifies everything I have done

Here I am, fighting this war with only a wooden sword
Sparring with the unseen enemy, my thoughts an icy fjord

The bell tolls and the walls all dissolve away
A new reality emerges and slowly creeps up on me

While on my mind the spiteful fiends and phantoms prey
The jailor turns the key, twisting the dagger of fate

Someplace far away an aggrieved wolf bays and moans
And I let out an anguished sigh, and ascend my fiery throne

'I smoke blunts to take the pain out and if I wasn't high I'd probably blow my brains out' - Tupac Amaru Shakur. But you don't know who he is. You're cool.

What we talkin' about?

Monday, February 22, 2010

Back to the musical discoveries I was talking about in the previous post. In addition to good old classic rock which I totally adore and revere, I have gradually become a regular listener of hip-hop, rap, trance, trip-hop, electronica, punk, as well as lots of Brit indie.

Yes. Most of the stuff I’ve recently started listening to isn't on LAN (Hardly a surprise. There wasn't even a proper Bruce Springsteen/The Rolling Stones/Sting/The Police/Bob Dylan catalogue on LAN the last time I checked. Probably because they aren't called GIGAMETH or LAMP IN A POD. I don't know). Mediafire zindabaad. Megaupload too. Though the considerate folks at Megaupload do not allow parallel downloads. And the insti net is about as fast as a blind monkey on meth. Or like… something. I’m sure you can do better than that. It requires patience to download stuff, but it is rewarding. At least it was to me.

So, this is a random pick of ten albums that I have been rotating non-stop on Winamp over the past month or so. If you strongly believe that ‘RAP IS NOT MUSIC’, or that ‘ELECTRONIC MUSIC SOUNDS THE SAME EVERYWHERE’, or that ‘DJs JUST ADD A RANDOM SAMPLE BEAT TO CREATE A TRACK’…

Fuck off. Go pontificate about your impressive understanding of music somewhere else.

1. Blue Lines : Massive Attack

Yes, you have heard of them because ‘Teardrop’ is the theme song for the Fox TV Show, House MD. But Blue Lines, and not Mezzanine is them at their finest. Don’t just take my word for it. Q readers voted it number 9 in a poll for the 100 Greatest British Albums Ever. The tracks ‘Unfinished Sympathy’, ‘Be Thankful For What You Got’ and ‘Blue Lines’ stand out in this superb album.

2. Up the Bracket : The Libertines

Prior to listening to The Libertines, I knew Pete Doherty only as the guy Kate Moss dumped after making some disparaging comments about how well-endowed he was. Or wasn’t. My bad. He was part of one of the most awesome bands ever, and sadly they broke up after releasing only a couple of albums, one in 2002(this one), the second in 2004. As Doherty croons in their self-titled second album, ‘What Became of the Likely Lads?’

The Libertines play a fast and dirty brand of music, with Carl Barat and Doherty providing all the vocal fireworks. Chosen tracks – ‘Vertigo’, ‘Death on the Stairs’, ‘Up the Bracket’, ‘Boys In The Band’… you know what? Screw this. I love the entire album to bits.

3. The Low End Theory : A Tribe Called Quest

I had recently listened to Q-Tip’s The Renaissance and had liked it. And then I started listening to A Tribe Called Quest (he had been a part of the group until they disbanded in 1998), the iconic hip-hop group which I was till then, sadly unaware of. And this album just shows us why they are among the greatest ever. One can safely say this album was the holy grail of alternative hip-hop. Jazz and hip-hop had never been this fantastically and seamlessly blended. Q-Tip and Phife are in fine form here – they effortlessly bounce off each other's verses. My picks – ‘Verses from the Abstract’, ‘Vibes and Stuff’, ‘Check the Rhime’, ‘Jazz (We’ve got)’.

4. In My Memory : Tiesto

The biggest and most accomplished DJ ever, without a doubt. So it was not at all surprising when he played live at the opening ceremony of the 2004 Athens Olympics. In My Memory is my favourite record of his (still puzzled as to why Allmusic gives it a couple of stars only) – and guest vocals by Kirsty Hawkshaw, Jan Johnston and Nicola Hitchcock lift the mood even more. ‘Battleship Grey’ is an absolute favourite.

5. Music for the Jilted Generation : The Prodigy

‘Blown away’ is the only way to describe the effect this album has on its listener. The Allmusic review puts it aptly – ‘Sonic Terrorism’ with the never dying energy each track brings to the room. Forget the Black Eyed Peas, this is where ‘The Energy Never Dies’. And I haven’t even listened to their other albums properly yet. Selected tracks – ‘Full Throttle’, ‘Voodoo People’, ‘Poison’, ‘The Narcotic Suite : Skylined’.

Oh, and the album title was the sole reason I listened to this one first, instead of listening to their debut album, ‘Experience’. This album was my first brush with hardcore techno. Wow. WOW.

6. The Mix-Up : Beastie Boys

Why am I not talking about ‘Paul’s Boutique’ when I have to choose only one album from Beastie Boys’ (Yes, there is no ‘The’ in their name) discography? Because it is one of the greatest records ever made and it doesn’t need my thumbs-up.

The Mix-Up, on the other hand is, as the Beasties themselves put it, a ‘post-punk instrumental’ album. But what would a Beastie album be, without Mike D, Ad Rock and MCA killing it on the mic? Pretty solid, as it turns out. Preferred tracks – ‘Suco de Tangerina’, ‘Freaky Hijiki’, ‘The Cousin of Death’.

7. Dig Your Own Hole : The Chemical Brothers

The first track, very aptly titled ‘Block Rockin’ Beats’ neatly sets the tone for what went on to be regarded as one of the finest big beat electronic records ever. The Chemical Brothers distort samples and riffs at will almost as if it were being done by right. The heavy synths and pounding beats take you along for the ride and then kick you right out. And you’ll want it again. Also listen to – ‘Setting Sun’, ‘It Doesn’t Matter’, ‘Elektrobank’.

8. It’s Dark and Hell is Hot : DMX

The album has a very ominous ring to it, what with the name and all. And it completely stays true to the first impression it makes on you. The dark, sinister beats and the hardcore, ferocious, relentless, snarly and gravelly flow of DMX hit the listener in the face with a sledgehammer. The lyrics, though admittedly violent, horrific and gruesome, are loaded with symbolism and meaning, though I wouldn’t obviously go as far to say they are profound and of immense literal value. Think ‘I sold my soul to the Devil, the price was cheap/And it’s cold on this level, and it’s twice as deep’, and you’ll have an idea of what I mean. Select songs – ‘Intro’, ‘Ruff Ryders’ Anthem’, ‘Get At Me, Dog’, ‘X is Coming’, ‘Let Me Fly’, ‘Stop Being Greedy’.

What a debut. What an album. ‘TALK IS CHEAP, MUTHAFUCKA!’

9. Sirens of the Sea : Oceanlab

Another of my favourite trance records – this one’s got lilting, teasing melodies for the most part with the beats and sounds to match. Justine Suissa’s vocals are the reason this album rises from being a good one to a bloody good one. It isn’t exactly an album to which one can groove to on the dance floor, yet it is no less magnificent. Oceanlab and Above and Beyond, who were known for their epic trance tracks take a different approach here – most of the songs are 4 to 5 minutes long and still pack the same punch. Brillance.

Picks – ‘Sirens of the Sea’, ‘Miracle’, ‘On a Good Day’, ‘On the Beach’.

10. Mezcal Head : Swervedriver

I first heard of Swervedriver while leafing through a TopGear India issue a year or so ago. One of the tracks they recommended for ‘system up with the top down’ drives on the highway was the song ‘Duel’ from this album. And once I listened to that, I was hooked. The scorching, relentless sound of their guitars defines the band’s musical character. Their lyrics are often about cars and films, and this only helps. Mezcal Head’s got awesomeness written all over it – it’s a pity Swervedriver didn’t become all that famous. But don’t let that deter you. Listen to them. It’s going to be totally worth your time.

Selected tracks – ‘Duel’, ‘Blowin’ Cool’, ‘For Seeking Heat’, ‘Last Train to Satansville’, ‘Girl on a Motorbike’, darn, pretty much everything.

Actually, all this effort is useless. Nobody reads this blog and nobody listens to these kinds of music. There’s no point.

But consider the alternative I had – a term paper on Machiavelli’s Discourses and how he talks of corruption in the republican form of government. At least that’s what I think it’s about.

I’m very, very happy I could bring myself to write all this down. Had been meaning to for quite a while, but had never really felt like it. This is probably the first substantial and meaningful post I’ve ever made on this crappy blog.


Let's go take a bath

It's hardly a surprise that my musical discoveries happen during these quizzes and end-sems. Not that I am complaining.

Last night, I was so enlightened after trying to read bits of Machiavelli and Hobbes with DJ Tiesto and DJ Armin van Buuren providing a pulsating background soundtrack that I decided to 'Drop the World' and decide upon my next course of action. This was at 12:35 AM. I was about to do something earth-shattering.

I had decided to take a bath. A good 45 minute long bath. The water was cold-ish. So I turned on the shower and stood in the dry for about 10 minutes. Wasn't half as scary as the quiz eventually turned out to be, but still. And then I had to do pathetic hip-hop steps and gradually position myself appropriately.

I'm going in the wrong direction again. Habit.

Bring on the night

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Generally, I do useless things on the internet. Rest assured, this thing isn't. A really, really fab interview of one of the greatest singers/bassists/songwriters ever and certainly my favourite songwriter. Gordon Sumner. You might not have heard of him.

Some snatches of the interview I really enjoyed:

Q: What else are you looking forward to?

A: "The ride. The curiosity of what happens next. When I left teaching they said, ‘If you leave now you will lose your pension,’ and I could see myself at 58 as a deputy head with a pension in the offing, and that’s why I left. I didn’t want to see the future. I wanted to spin the wheel and I’m glad to have spun the wheel a few times. I would like to settle down at some point… It doesn’t mean I will, though."

And some tips from someone who most certainly knows what he's talking about:

"I think all the women in my life have satisfied the various archetypes of my mother: the wife, the lover, the mistress, the unattainable female mystery. She encompassed a lot of it. I don’t think you will ever get to the bottom of a woman. I don’t think men are wired to understand, and I think that’s fantastic – a constant mystery. I think I know what women want now though."

In what way? "I think women want to be asked what they want. One shouldn’t just assume." Do you mean what shall we eat, what shall we do tonight? "Everything." Do you want to have sex now? "All those things." You actually ask do you want to have sex? "Of course. Do you think a man should just club you and drag you down into the cave?" No, but I think it’s something you should already know. "Well, you need to read the signals, but they need to be asked. It’s a question of manners."

The entire interview can be found here.

So there. Run off now. Go have your mosquito soup. It's going cold.

Too much trance and too much...

Saturday, February 6, 2010

In that moment of falling
No one saw those wings growing

Now the blood runs thicker
And the hurt stabs quicker

Her body sways and grooves to the pulsing beat
In the pallid shadows he stands observant yet discreet

He tastes her in every flaming drop he drinks
His senses by her luminescent curves hoodwinked

His is the face seen in the mournful moon
She would forever be his mysterious rune

Cursed to stay distant, condemed not to touch
In this smouldering instant, he wishes for just as much

His heart keeps racing, she's set it alight
Racing no one, with no chequered flag in sight

This is what happens after knocking back 4 glasses of 'Be what you want to be...' alongwith whatever was left in the litchi juice tetrapack. That, alongwith a playlist of the most captivating, pulsing and groovy trance tracks. Newfound addiction. Jan Johnston, Justine Suissa, Nadia Ali, Karen Overton, ooooh, sexy people, sexier voices... I'm knocked out enough to blabber uncontrollably, yet not out-of-hand enough to not be able to find the correct key to type all this in. I'm doing OK with the mouse too. No, you don't. The Virgin GP car has to be THE coolest car of the '10 season, despite my unconditional love for the Germanic understated-ness of the Merc. What's this trash I've written here? Lyrically, it's very evidently shitty, but wait till I find a proper DJ who'll to set these words to a beat and create a proper track... and watch me levitate. van Buuren, Tiesto, van Dyk - are you guys listening? Drove the Pajero around a bit. With the 4WD on, driving it on the beach was great fun too. Still prefer the automatic Prado though. All this on my mind, what was it again? Was I thinking about somebody? Rubbished the benign seven plan at Bessie. Would have been pretty inoffensive. Hah, no way. My dream 250 GTO, dressed in Nero Daytona. I'm limited to wishing for the unattainable. Laugh all you want, you creeps. I can delete this tomorrow. I shouldn't. I won't. I probably will. Will I? naaaah.....

They call me Schumi - I'm back, I'm back...

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

'From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadow shall spring.

Renewed shall be blade that was broken;

The crownless again shall be king.'

He who can, does. He who cannot, doubts. Lots of idiots have been pontificating about the 'cheat' and the 'dick dastardly' over-the-hill greybeard who's come back just to serve his own twisted sense of self-interest and ‘take the sport back to its dark ages’. Time for something 'downmarket', eh you doormats?

Another of my idols for whom subtlety is the least preferred weapon says something relevant:

'But the game ain’t gonna be the same on the day that I leave it
I swear one way or another I’ma make these f**king haters believe it,
I swear to God, I won’t spare the rod, I’m a man of my word
So your f**king heads better nod
I’m gonna f**k around in this bitch and roast everybody
Sleep on me that pillow is where your head will lie, permanently b**ch it’s beddy-bye,
This world is my Easter egg, yeah, Prepare To Die'

Yes. Prepare to die.

This flow is gonna bring more dough

Sunday, January 24, 2010

‘Hunting blackbuck is illegal – more illegal than rapping at the WM solo event.’

Hey, that’s funny! No offence to the newsletter people – you’ve been doing a fab job by letting us in on all the latest dope on Saarang as it marches on. You are bone-crunchingly funny and all and no one’s taking potshots at you. This thing is a general perception here – that line just got to me and here I am, getting to nobody. Who the f**k reads this anyway?

An insignificant wart on the insti’s grand posterior of things like me doesn’t even merit an itch, but seriously, rapping is illegal, but guttural growling that sounds only as melodious and rhythmic as a bag of spanners being shaken by a drunk chimp to ear-splitting, driving ‘chords’ which make the poor guitar sound like someone’s scraping the loading bay of a cargo ship with a shovel is? The only truly awesome thing about that kind of music is the drumming, which bleeds coolness from everywhere. But you like headbanging, having bramble-bushes for beards, and smoking lots of trees, and how else are you going to do that if not for this delightful music? Rap is actually way better (though, admittedly not if you listen to Vanilla Ice or MC Hammer) and of course, the dopest and illest rhymes with awesomely witty wordplay and the thumping snare drums and the heavy synths help.

'The greatest death metal musicians almost can't make a living with what they do, and yet the musicians in these bands continue on in spite of their obscurity. Death metal is so non-mainstream that its musicians have to work incredibly hard for their career sales to reach even a million copies (which less than 6 death metal musicians have actually done).'

From Wikihow

Hah. Serves them right. See, taking shots at this is even easier. One would be too indifferent to this trash to give a damn, but well, who started it?

Of course, music and the way someone perceives it is a very personal thing, but quit dissing something you know nothing about.

Take your motherfucking death metal and stuff it up your intestines. No wonder Chuck Schuldiner died of brain cancer.