I Want To Ride My...

About two weeks ago I was killing time on the internet after a gig. Textbook stuff. A series of mouse clicks later - which couldn’t be summarized better than the sound of my mind falling down a flight of stairs, I some how ended up (bless the open market) at the website of a bicycle shop here in Delhi that sold bmx bikes. You know, those trick bikes? I always wanted one earlier on, but there was no way that I could ever find one in Delhi – and the hassle of importing one, was enough of a deterrent.

I had a small and lighter Bmx-like bike when I was in Tokyo and I could do some fun stuff on it, but at the end of the day, it was really an object of necessity with a purely functional role. Not to mention that it was old as hell, beaten to the ground and always one step away from turning to dust. The reason for this, was simply that
I had bought it within a week of reaching Japan, without having any pulse on the Yen. So – I bought the cheapest ass thing I could find. God, it was mustard and I miss it so much. It got stolen a day before I flew back to Delhi. Apparently some Japanese thieves have low less esteem.

I digress. Back to the webpage: the interesting thing about the bike was that it wasn’t all that expensive – mostly because I’m use upright basses as my normal reference of heavy expenditure (ha!) – and more than anything, it really looked Good. This might not seem like a big deal, Good with a capital G and all, but my usual interaction with material things in Delhi, that catch my eye at all, can be summed up in the phrase: “one step too far”. It was going great, but then someone threw some Panja-bling-golden-pink-happy-dragon-rainbow-sparkle on it and Blew it. Whatever unfortunate thing, ‘it’ was. The total icing on the cake was that the outlet was right behind where I lived. Divinity had spoken.

.. Now, Divinity is very shady about what it says and has shown a history of being deliberately ambiguous – so by the next day, the idea of buying it had begun to vaguely rationalize itself. The usual questions of where I could ride it and so on presented themselves - and the outlook didn’t look so good. The evening took a twist thought, when I was hanging out with a really close friend of mine. I happened to tell her about it – and to cut a long story short, for whatever reason, she decided to force (barely) me to buy it. So we went to the store, I saw the bike, it looked great – and she decided to buy me ten years worth of pending birthday presents in one go, so she got me the stunt pegs and a cushion and a bell. Tring – life was good.

Since I brought the bike home, I hadn’t gotten a chance to take it out much. It’d only been out a few times (again, just about barely). Mostly, this was because I was tied up with rehearsals and gigs – and really the only time one could really ride a bike out in Delhi (as a recreational activity), I would be fast asleep. Though I didn’t regret buying it, walking in and out of the house and looking at it made me wonder if it’s purpose was going to remain largely ornamental.

Today morning however, credit to my light sleeping habits, my eyes popped open at about quarter to five. I spent a little bit of time stalling and trying to get back to sleep – until I totally just gave up. I went upto the roof and man, it was beautiful out there. It was really breezy and the darkness had that light purple to it. I figured today was the morning to get that bicycle out.

It’s really light, so I carried it down and after being chased around by a few dogs – which woke me up just fine – I was out by 5.45am.
For those of you familiar with Delhi and with me, I live near a place called Gulmohar Park. I rode down upto Khan Market, which is pretty much just a long and straight – but very, very eventful road. Just in terms of urban activity. I tricked around a bit at the empty market and eventually turned around because it was starting to get trafficky. I was back home by 7am.

It’s strange, but no surprise. I went to school for two years, on the same road – and when I go swimming, I cross it every time. I’ve probably been up and down that road and through that area thousands of times, over the past five years – but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it like I did today.

I’m going to try make an occasional habit of this.


I wouldn’t mind company either.

Won't you sit for a bit?

One of the strangest things that I remember – and usually not so fondly – about when I used to live with mum and dad, was our family’s unique take on going out. Now by going out, I mean everything and anything that falls between the vast expanse of casual caffeinate-ing/dining on one hand and all out social brawls on the other. These ‘Outings’ with a capital O, used to happen about once a week and maybe (if I was lucky) twice (at most). Anything more would be considered akin to chaos.

The curious thing about these Outings, with a italic O, was that they were meant to sustain one’s desire to be in a social setting – or more simply – outside the home setting, for atleast a few days. So if you stepped out for coffee on a Tuesday, your desire to be out-and-about on a Thursday was pretty illegitimate. Now, naturally, because I grew up in these settings for about eighteen years, I began to think that these frequencies suggested and reflected a larger reality – and because I wasn’t in a coed school till the time I was 16 (who wants to hang out with other guys anyway) – it took me a while to cultivate my own social life and really rekindle the need to be Out - not to mention, really getting something solid to compare my own lifestyle to.

Every kid has their unique deafening realization when they talk to other kids and go through the “Wait, Shit, not everybody does that?” moment. On a side note: I long to capture this on film.

Digressing only momentarily: I realize the tone of this post is turning a little sour – and this is not my intention. My mum works as a senior paediatrician at a hospital here in Delhi and her schedule is no where near permitting frequent movement – both professionally and physically limit. Babies apparently fall sick all the time and it seems taking care of them, can leave you pretty drained.

My dad seems to work too – I would be more expressive - but in 23 years, I haven’t understood the finer intricacies of his job. I’m sure they’re as consuming as anybody else’s.

The thing is, the approach to movement here, is just a curious oddity of the Warsi/Salim household – as there are oddities for every household. Yeah, I’m talking to you, man. The only person who I think was a little restless when I was growing up, was my Grandfather. There was a point where I’m pretty sure he found it hard to sit still. God bless that attitude, it was like a breath of fresh air. You can’t start a fire without a spark. That’s what the boss said!

Looking Forward:

It’s been just about seven years since the time that I was awkward at 16 dating my first real girlfriend, who I naturally wanted to see not only on Tuesday and Thursday – but on whatever other days fell in the middle of all that too. As things turned out, once I got to college, things were nowhere closer to getting better. It wasn’t just about girls any more, but about bands and rehearsals that were as unpredictable as traffic. Cliché as it is, the older I got, the more belligerent I became. Apparently, school was only the beginning.

So began the seasons of our discontent: A series of fights followed by a series of resignations, melodrama, and ofcourse, how can we forget the teenage Pièce de résistance – Lying (though I will say, I haven’t ‘skipped’ school yet). Oh did I get good at lying. Man oh man.

Anyway, since those fun fun fun days I have adopted a policy of uncensored honesty. It’s harsher and at times more uncomfortable – but almost always - more efficient. In terms of experience: I’ve lived alone in Japan for a year – and have been living on my own ever since I got back to Delhi. Half way through this February it’s going to be 2 years. All of this, quite unsurprisingly, finds me in diametric opposition to the original oddity of the Warsi household. I find myself stepping out of the house anywhere upto 4 times a day (if not more) and driven by a restlessness that my grandfather might somewhere be secretly proud of. It’s a strange sort of restlessness that doesn’t settle with the coffee shop, but instead involves looming on travel websites with a debit card on the side.

Spontaneity is key.

The thing with exhaustion and subsequently, that feeling of ‘fullness’, is that the threshold always evolves. It’s like a drug. You need to do more, to feel like you’re, self-evidently, doing more. Between rehearsals and gigs – I’m always wanting to pack in more into a day - and I’m never quite sure where to find my fillers (or what they even are).

About two weeks ago I started playing squash – that’s given me a new toy for a bit, but the sensation is only momentary. Yesterday, I tied up a Snowboarding trip to Gulmarg, Kashmir – and over the past two weeks, I’ve played a bunch of gigs that should leave me feeling pretty good: we did one for absolut-art last sunday (there's a nice picture of it in today's HT city) and I also, Finally, got to play at Lodi's Garden Restaurant (big check of my to do list) but still, I

can barely stop twiddling my toes.


Not to sound ungrateful or anything.


It's the year of the Bunny and I am (as I imagine bunnies are) in search of : the Perfect Full Day.


.. to be contd (probably).

In Repair; In Transit.

It’s quarter to the three in the morning. I keep sitting down to update this blog and to post something on it, but each time that I do, I usually make it through three lines and I’m overwhelmed at the thought of all the things I want to write out. 

The sensation of being overwhelmed, however, is quickly submerged in the much larger ocean of unmotivated writing and I decide to abandon the whole thing. So, there you go. I minimize the window, disappoint my word processor and leave it alone for another night. 

Here’s what’s going on in my mind: I haven’t sat down to write anything since mid-November. Since then, a lot of things that might be fun to mention (at best) have happened. In a big way, they’re all made of the same thing: People – who have come and gone; Gigs – some good and a lot bad; and naturally, the experiences and consequent realizations afforded by both – some fleeting and others pretty significant.

From the outside, especially when speaking in lazy general terms, it doesn’t look like much has really changed or happened – but when I really get into it, there seems like there’s a lot to say. Things with Drift are great – but they’re in transit. We’ve been getting a lot of good gigs and sometimes, it feels like the phone doesn’t stop ringing. We also seem to be doing pretty well on the recognition account – by which I basically mean, people buy us drinks all the time. Reuben, my drummer, went to a club with some friends, rang up a nasty ass bill and at the end of the night, walked out hammered without having to part with any cash, because the owner was a frequent visitor at a lounge we play at. It’s a decent feeling.

It’s really interesting how with any given band, there are always a few parallel streams that run side by side. In the case with Drift, I can clearly see two – and the reason why things are in transit, is because there is a clash between those two streams.

The first one – arguably more important - being that of personal musicianship. By which I mean: skill and general satisfaction with your own sound. Really just being able to like yourself and what you do on your instrument. The second stream, in my eyes, is how the band is perceived from outside and maybe right now, the latter is just mismatched with the former. There’s a craving from the former, for a fresher sound – but the need for that is happening at a point where I feel like the image of the group is just beginning to be consolidated – on a strictly P.R. level. I guess there’s always the question of how much that really matters in the first place – but anyway, I hope things will balance out soon.

I haven’t been taking the band or the lifestyle that’s come with it for granted and I knew it wasn’t going to last forever, but these three guys have become like family to me. Infact, I've met them for rehearsal on a daily basis for something like half a year - and at our peak, we were playing right upto 4 nights a week. That’s more than I’ve seen my real relatives over the past two years - no two ways about it.

I played a really fun gig on the 1^st of January. There’s a school in Delhi called the Bridge Music Academy. They organized a Winter jazz concert at the India Habitat Center’s Stein Auditorium. I’d say maybe two hundred showed up? Maybe more? I can never gauge with people.

I got to play with Nippun Cheema’s project – which played something called Cinematic Jazz – which was basically film score but customized to make some room for improvisation. Some of the music was really gorgeous and it’s still very much stuck in my head. What made the whole thing a much bigger deal, was that Drift was also slotted to play this concert. So Nicolas and I got on stage with Nippun’s project first – spent an hour up there – after which, Drift came on and it was just a really great way to the start the year. I couldn’t be more grateful. There are recordings and a dvd of the same, which I will sit down with, scrub and put up at some point.

I think this is a pretty good way to start clearing a blog-back-log and there’s definitely no better way to wrap up, than to shamelessly publicize myself. 

So:

Catch Drift at the Living Room in Hauz Khas Village on the 4^th of February – which is a Friday. Come on out, come on out. I didn’t know we were playing there till yesterday when I saw the poster with our pretty little faces on it – so, it’s news to me too.

Also, if you can’t make Friday, come on down to Baci on Thursday. It’s been a treat to play there this year. I hope to see some of you there.

Turbulence en route to Nowhere.

It’s a fucking genuinely enlightening experience. Waking up in the morning and for that one split second, you have no idea where you are. Okay, the menu on the right side table tells me we’re not in Delhi, it’s a guest house in Chandigarh: we’re off to a fabulous start. There’s somebody singing in the shower. Also brilliant, i’m not alone in this memorable experience. My mouth’s minty, which not only means that I was neurotic enough in my habit to brush my teeth last night, but points more to the fact that it wasn’t so long ago that I did brush them. I did change too – I’m wearing pyjamas. So far we’re doing great. There’s a white shirt and a black v-neck sweater hanging off the chair next to me. Doesn’t look like something I’d wear, but then I forgot my suit in Delhi – so I ended up spending half of what I earned at the gig last night buying those two things. I did look good though. “New York Pretty Chique-Boy”, that’s what my drummer was kind enough to suggest – where I’m flattering myself is, with the ‘-que’. I believe he was going for chick. It works for me, I guess.

The gig was fun enough, but not for it’s playing. The perfect sound, with the perfect venue and just a lot of a communication breakdown. The cues were all over the place and every one was pretty confused. Well, I was making a mess. In any case, right now I just couldn’t be fucked. On the other hand, the bass tone was beyond divine. It was the kind of tone that reminded me why I play the instrument I do. It was an outdoor gig, so on appearance: It was cold and all the trees were lit up with small white lights. It was foggy and it was beautiful. The crowd was pretty receptive and if not receptive, really attractive. The pianist we were playing with was kind enough to clarify that this was a very classy gig. Man, Punjabi women. I’m from Delhi – and I may harbour some false notions about seeking intellect, but fuck it, this is beyond a soft spot. I talked to a few women last night – but at these weddings and parties it’s like being in the middle of a jungle. It’s all out Darwin.

I digress.

Back to the room. I’m obviously more than hungover. Mostly because I’m still a little high. There’s more than two bottles of white wine in my system and more than a couple of shooters. I never take shots. I guess I was on vacation last night. The edges of my eyes are still vibrating. Lets see, my wallet’s still around. What comes next? It’s funny, it’s always the cellular phone. I’m convinced that I’ve lost it. I roll out of bed and I can barely stand. I check the bass, my backpack and the table. No sign of it – anywhere. I try calling it – no luck. I check my skinnies’ pockets, nope. It’s funny how the only thing that’s bothering me is the idea of invasion of privacy. I finally move the blankets and there it is, in all it’s black cold metal. I suddenly feel sick – and it’s not the alcohol. I walked in at round about 5 in the morning, swayed in is more accurate – packed away my bass with the love it deserves, changed my clothes, brushed my teeth and picked up my phone and fell asleep with it on the other side of my pillow. Something about this doesn’t click for me. I’m not this person.       

My body and mind feels like they’re broken. Maybe it’s from drinking and dancing last night – but it’s probably from the past week. Drift usually rehearses about 4 days a week – and the schedule’s been pretty consistent for a few months now – since August to be accurate. This particular week, we got ourselves a perfect score card. Morning rehearsals Monday through Friday followed by four days and four performances. Friday and Saturday at the aman, Sunday at the Polo grounds with Nicolas and finally Monday at Chandigarh. 

Sunday is worth mentioning because I got to do and see a lot of things I hadn’t seen and done before. For starters, I’d never been near a polo ground – leave alone watched a match. I now know the rules of polo – it’s like very-up market football. The funny thing is the teams switch goal sides every time some one scores – I don’t know why though. I imagine it can be disorienting if you’re having a spaced out day – but then I imagine people don’t day dream much on charging horses. Speaking of which, I got to see a lot of horses really up close – that’s something. They have really big eyes and I like that. The crowds that turn up for these things are well, pretty self-explanatorily, the crowds that turn up for these things. I did see a guy who looked like a very colour blind and pimped out Chick Corea. The actual playing time was somewhere around ten minutes. You could call the sound system awful – but that would presuppose the existence of a sound system. I basically got handed a 50-foot cable and was told to go stand on the field with Nicolas.

When we finally had to play – it became all about latency. I played one note and then I heard a flanger-overdriven-distorted sort of sound blare out of the speaker just about one or two seconds later. It was more than  a disaster. I played through the track we were doing but it really didn’t make any sense, after a while there was just no sound, so Nicolas played moreorless accompanied. It was a bit sad because there were quite few people who did huddle up around us to watch. I don’t think I’ve ever sounded worse in my life. Faulty cables. 

It’s strange because slowly all of my instincts are telling me to pack up and fuck off. I need to wash this all off. The bad-tones, the shaky playing, the masters with it’s uncanny ability to sneak up on me. It’s probably just cumulative ‘something’, but I feel like there’s a layer of dirt on my general perception and I’m begging for clarity. In any case, I’m grounded for the next two months or more, on account of playing and more so, because of the masters semester final exams which are coming up in a little under two and a half weeks.

Detergent anybody?

 

Up, Down (And if I'm in the mood) Maybe Round and Round.

I think the deal with studying Philosophy and pretty much any other non-technical subject, is that you ought to take it seriously, but never too seriously. Retrospectively speaking, when I was doing my bachelors, my premature understanding of the same idea, was something I was pretty kicked about. On one hand, I was genuinely interested and open to being affected by it. On the other hand though: I really tried my best, to keep from using it to fill a vacuum in my life – or the spaces that were the deficiencies of my personality. Think of it as the contrast between, “I study philosophy” and “I: study philosophy”. There was enough of the latter going around me.  Still is, actually. The only thing that’s probably changed now, is that I take most of the philosophy I’m exposed to as either for granted or as being uninteresting. I would place jazz at the centre of myself at times, but that too wearily as I don’t have that enlightened and intimate a connection with the art form (yet?) and the moments of it I may or may not experience are fleeting at best.

I figure if there are perceived spaces in your life, there’s really no point trying to fill them with things. People, places, arts whatever – its about coming to peace with the gap, or re-arranging yourself, till it’s not there.

I digress though. What I meant to bring up was something that’s been on my mind lately – and was further consolidated yesterday morning, when Nicolas used the same phrase and arrangement of words. He was talking about how he feels he needs to return to a healthier, more focused and concentrated lifestyle – and how circumstances at present are seemingly unconducive to the same.

More relevant: being the accompanying sensation that life is cyclical – and the best that one can really do (to a certain degree) is ride the wave with some amount of style and hopefully have it, if it’s a good one, last as long as it can or, hold it together – if it’s a not-so hot wave.

I don’t mean to sound fatalistic about the whole thing – it’s not that there’s no control. You can alleviate the symptoms and consolidate yourself – and when you get good at It – you can almost ignore the cycle, but there’s not much you can do to the cycle itself. There’s no forcing it in either direction. The reason why I brought up Philosophy at all, was because a lot of the Buddhism we studied talked about the cyclical nature of life – both in terms of practical every day material and in a larger overbearing metaphysical sense (though I am pulling this out of context just a little).

I think this was a big reason why Indian Philosophy got so popular and managed to find its way into the self-help and spirituality sections of Barnes and Noble & Borders and co. It’s very coping oriented. There’s just enough metaphysical abstract content to satiate the average western spiritually-starved mind; but yet enough practical how-to-deal content that just sounds like good advice.

How to navigate around every day muck: Negative thoughts, sensations of isolation, anger, temptation and so on. 

Returning to the idea of cyclical phases of life – what could one be talking about? Well generally the understanding that on the broadest level: there are positive phases and negative ones. More specifically, the breakdown can go on. Phases of exhaustion; of freshness; of optimism; of creativity; of self deprecation; of motivation; of demotivation and so on.

What’s on my mind, is just a little stranger though. For me, the question seems to present itself at the stage where you’re firm with your understanding and perception of life as being in cycles but you become too familiar and you just don’t feel like directly engaging with them any more (by virtue of the fact that they are cycles).

I understand living in the moment – and the family of accompanying one line gems like, “It’s not the destination, it’s the journey” – but sometimes, you just want to say, “Hey man, I’ve seen this movie before. I know how it goes”.

Not to rob life of it’s element of surprise – we all know chance can go out of it’s way to sideline you, when you’re just sitting around on that Tuesday afternoon, but in a more retracted sense – the motions can get pretty mundane (?). No matter how exciting the content of your experience is.

The only bailout here, really is just that though: experience. The idea that as an active and passive agent engaging in perception and undergoing change, in the cycles of life, you will experience – see, touch, taste, feel – things that give you the sensation of a fuller existence.

That’s the gamble I guess.

On lighter notes: I had something happen to me last night that probably best provides insight into the failing connection between the movies and real life. I was driving back home from the gig last night and it must’ve been round about 1am and as I took the turn for the house, there was this gorgeous but slightly scruffy and old retriever just standing on the corner of the road – looking very lost. It was a really cold and some what foggy night. You couldn’t see great – but as far as I could tell, it was on it’s own.

I thought about it for a second and stopped the car moreorless in the middle of the road and walked upto it. The dog was a real sweetheart and I played with it for atleast a minute - and then out of nowhere, this girl on her phone (with her mum about 10 yards behind her) pops up looking very worried – not for her dog, but more so by the creepy dog-napper/possible rapist who’d abandoned his car open in the middle of the road. I didn’t really bother saying much, since her mum was freaking out from behind those 10 yards (not that she herself was particularly keen on 1.15am conversation). So much for my serendipitous engagement. I was even dressed well. What do you know.

Hm. I’m playing jazz-duo with Nicolas during the break of a polo match in a couple of hours today. This is up at the Jaipur polo-ground, which happen to be in Delhi, but I’m still clueless as to it’s whereabouts. So I should spend sometime on Google earth figuring it out. Should be interesting.

Lets hope experience compensates.

On a smaller and more self-promotional note: Drift will start playing live jazz at Baci (in Sunder Nagar Market) as of the 18th of this month - which is a Thursday. As far as I know - we will be playing every thursday for the course of this month. The venue is a very warm cafe and the gig's will be fully acoustic and intimate. I hope and expect to see a lot of you there.

Meditation at Dawn

Meditations at dawn – that’s what I’m going to call the first decent jazz head I write. Until then, it will have to suffice as the title of this little humble post. Recently has been entertaining – mostly in content and - insofar as it has been exhausting and blurry, it has come with it’s own intoxication. Lately I feel like I can draw a straight line through rehearsing for Nepal, playing in Nepal, going to Bombay, coming back from Bombay, studying for tests, giving tests, playing more - and right upto the present moment and yet feel like all of it happened to somebody else. 

It is, at the moment, just about dawn – it would be a shame, if it wasn’t. It’s not that I’m not tired or I can’t sleep – but for some reason, I don’t really feel like putting much space between the day that started sometime yesterday and waking up and starting again later today. The weird hang-ups people have. What doesn’t help the entire situation however, it my acoustic-habituation of the fan.

The regulator knob is busted – and by busted I mean the fan is only working on two settings. The first being ‘dead without motion’ and the second, even more popular I might add, being ‘Cessna light-aircraft propeller’. It’s a really cold night and it’s been a pretty good night. We played a decent set at the Aman – ended late and then headed out to TLR 

for a little while, to check out their Halloween scene – ended up staying till 4am and finally got back and chilled (literally) out on the roof at home, listening to Miles Davis and drinking beer. It sounds contrived, but after a point personal satisfaction, is more than, if not the only key.

Tonight was probably the first night in months that I got out. Nicolas was kind enough to give me company on it – but I think somewhere he needed it, as much as I did. It felt so stran

ge being in the middle of large social scene. You just forget what it’s like. There’s no two ways about, I’d rather play than do anything else, but sometimes, new people just afford you an instant booster shot of fresh perspective. Half the time they don’t even know it – sometimes, you’re the one administering the shot and even you don’t know it. Sometimes it's just fictional clarity. In any case, "whatever makes us happy" - says Pranai.

In other news, my new double bass gets here from Bombay sometime this week. It will be the latest addition to the house. Shortly after which, I’m getting a cat.

Life is good.

 

 

 

 

Kathmandu Journal.

Kathmandu Day 1 – 2:

 

We all got to the airport in Delhi on time and things ran pretty smoothly – insofar as getting a cab on the 2^nd of October, getting all the equipment – including the monster bass case – checked into the plane. It was the first time I saw the inside of the new terminal – it looks pretty good and reminds me of some of the airports outside. The pilot took the plane off like it was a roller coaster – we all got nailed down to our seats and slammed back into them. Landing was a swerving disaster too – but we’re all here and alive. The things we all take for granted. 

Things started getting fuzzy when we reached Kathmandu airport. Though the bass case and guitars came out first (and now I can say unharmed) – a couple of the bags took about half an hour to show up. They probably came out in the last burst of luggage on the belt. It also took us a while to find our ride – because though he had a sign board for us, the words ‘Drift’ were written on it as the same size of this font.

We’re staying at the Kathmandu Jazz Conservatory staff faculty area. The conservatory itself on the fourth floor of a pretty massive building – with sound proof rooms for a fully equipped recording studio, a piano room, a drum room – and a few more practice rooms. The other floors in the building are for actors, adventure sports and artists. It’s like an oasis in the middle of the city.

I met another double bassist here called Ian – who is a 24 year old American – teaching at the conservatory. He’s been playing for about 11/12 odd years and apparently started a fund back to home to ship two double basses to the conservatory – all the way from the states. The whole exercise cost him a little over $3000 – and a lot of energy. He’s really good on the bass and maybe I can sit with home and pick up something while I’m here.

The first hiccup shortly presented itself: with all the bags and equipment switching hands at the arrival – Reuben forgot his cymbal bag at the airport. Our gig was supposed to start in about 45 minutes. He and Pranai darted back for the airport while me and Nicolas headed to our venue – it was called House of Music.

It was a nice venue – and I’ll put up some pictures eventually – but the gig left me feeling pretty low. My amp blew a fuse and I was plugged in direct through the mixer into these odd speakers. Playing at the Aman has really ruined us, insofar as it affords us a consistency that musicians don’t really have, unless they carry all their equipment to every show (we have our own mixer and speakers there). All in all though, my tone was the complete opposite  of anything I wanted it to be. It sounded ugly, twangy, hollow and the clincher: really out of the control-loud. The crowd that came up was on the smaller side but it was full of musicians. What a night.

I spent most of the morning with Nicolas checking out the conservatory – and practicing alone. In the afternoon, every body headed to to Darbar and Thalem – two of the four major districts that Kathmandu is made up of. Sunday is a working day in Nepal – so things were pretty chaotic and it was a real sensory overload. The line between pedestrian walkway and motor-road dissolves to negligible in Kathmandu. For the most part, those two markets had a similar setting to a lot of the places I’ve seen up in Shillong, Darjeeling and maybe Varanasi. Narrow roads, with shops on either side and a lot of people (and in this case cars and bikes) walking through. We left home around 12.30/1 and got back at 5. We all got back wiped out.

So far the schedule slots us in (give or take one night) for a gig every night we’re here. Tonight’s going to be at much more crowded jazz venue – attached to the conservatory. One of the faculty’s saxophonists is leaving – so it’s his farewell.

There are a couple of other bands playing – and the crowd’s going to be full of musicians. I think somewhere, every body feels the pressure – but it comes out differently. I’m not thinking about it much – but it’s interesting how it works.

 

Lets see how tonight goes.

 

 

Kathmandu Day 2-3

 

Last night had all the makings of a great gig – and it was a hell of a night. It was one of the few times, with Delhi being the way it is, that we played infront of a packed room of listeners. The only two other times being our first gig at the India habitat center and the second at tlr – but still, it was nothing like either of them.

The venue was called Moksh and it was this great French-windowed joint that faces out to a garden and looks like something out of a European movie. Enough can’t be said about the performing area  - which was in a separate room. The stage was placed, sunken in the middle – below the floor – and the seating area was raised about a foot around it, with couches everywhere. 

There was a lot of advertising and Drift probably got it’s biggest ad in a main paper. A whole bunch of bands played – I think about four of them in all – and they were burning the place down. The amount of talent here is crazy – there is a solid culture for music that has developed, according to Pranai, over the last couple of years -  and I think all four of us were overwhelmed by it. For me, the clincher will always be in the fact that, obviously – not as a rule of nature – but, generally the more talented they got, the nicer guys they were. I’m playing with the idea of coming back here after my Masters finishes next year – and spending a few months studying/playing before heading out to Boston.

Yesterday night was really something for me – because I chose to play out our entire set on one of the double basses that the Jazz conservatory flew in. It was a great ¾ lemur model and even though there were points during a few of the uptempo numbers – and one of the ballads (where each note sticks out) – that I felt like I should have thought twice about it – it felt great. Great to just play one and great to just feel like I still can. The yamaha’s been really good to me and i’m glad it’s keeping me in shape.

Last night was also exceptional for the band. It was interesting to see how there was this inevitable form of performance pressure that we don’t usually need to or have to deal with. There was a big crowd, more than half of them musicians and music teachers listening very intently; there were a lot of very fucking good bands (all of them professionals and this isn’t me being self-depricating – just factual. Those guys were there) – and all of them going on before us making us the final act. There were some insane bass players playing too – guys who’ve been doing it for ten, fifteen to twenty years of their lives, whose comfort with music and instrument I can only hope to mimic eventually – watching them felt great but the idea of going on after them – was hard not to pay attention to. Comparison can feel like suicide.

Anyway, I could go on forever – about talent, time, practice. I call it the eternal gamble – you just have to bet on whether it’s just all talent and if you don’t have it at the very start there’s no point - OR – whether it’s maybe some predisposition but it’s more experience and practice and fundamentally: time. The idea that enough time will take you there and will afford you that level of playing – and there isn’t any other way, to really find out, that following it up.

Our set wasn’t that hot, insofar as how well we could have played it – but the fact of the matter is, the crowd loved it. There were people screaming, going crazy – there was a latin dancer dancing; and after we got off stage, we were swamped. One guy told us he hadn’t danced in 6 months – and another one told us we took him to heaven and back. Spiritual rejuvenation in one quick night. Not bad at all, if you ask me. I really feel like it was one of those sets where the four of us, got off stage feeling a little off – but literally, an hour and a half of people coming upto us later, we couldn’t not feel good about it.

There is a real lesson in self-comfort and self-acceptance here. I think I am, infact maybe we all are, getting a crash course in it. It is a hard and somewhat painful one.

 All said and done though – accept my deliberate inarticulateness – there is a lot lot lot lot of love here. There is an inherent string of humility, a solid vibe and culture that runs through most of the musicians here. Almost everybody’s doing it for all the right reasons. And take it from me, sometimes when you get too deep in it – playing eternal catch up with god knows what- you forget why you’re doing it and sometimes, you don’t even want to. Nights like yesterday and people like the ones I was fortunate enough to meet – you can’t help but being reminded. 

It feels great – to be here and to be part of it – and despite anything and everything. I’m thrilled.  

We ended up going to sleep around 4am. I don’t think we have a gig tonight so Nicolas and I are trying to go Bungee jumping today. The jump site is at a bridge - which is a 3 or 4 hour drive away from the city.

 

Lets see how and if it works out.

 

 

Kathmandu – Day 3.

 

The bungee jumping didn’t come together – and for the moment, it’s been pushed forward to Wednesday. For now, things don’t seem very optimistic – for reasons I’ll get to later. We spent the whole day walking around the city, which was great. Got to look at quite a bit of the stuff that was happening.

An interesting (and somewhat irritating thing) about Nepal, is how you have to pay certain ‘tourist’ fees – for moving from one part of the city to another. Somewhere, the idea of a ticketed museum or gallery makes a lot of sense – but just having to pay to move from district to district is a little irritating.
The idea here is that it’s not particularly cheap either. Especially if you’re like my saxophonist – who is French. One of the ladies didn’t believe me when I said I was Indian and I had to show her my license.

We spent the better half of the afternoon at a really nice café in a place called Patan square. Following which, Pranai, Nicolas and I spent round about an hour in the swimming pool near the jazz conservatory. It was a really deep pool, so we spent a lot of time goofing around diving and jumping. Which is something I haven’t done in a long time.

I met a lot of interesting people today. One of the guys who helped organize the entire tour is this guy called Nirakar. He’s a great bassist who plays for a band called 1974 AD – they play pop-rock and they’re huge here. I spent sometime talking to him and his friend today – they’re hugely into mountain biking. Which isn’t exactly uncommon for some one situated in the middle of the landscape we are – but what threw me off, is that they’re really into BMX biking. It seems that it’s pretty big in Nepal and they’re a bike-park here with ramps and all. If I didn’t have all the equipment I did, I would totally buy a bike and bring it back.

We spent the night checking out this venue called Jazz upstairs – we are supposed to play there on Thursday night (which will also be our last gig). It was a nice hole-in-the-wall kind of place with a  great vibe. They had this country gig happening with a bunch of American musicians who probably live here. It was all bluegrass – and the vocalist looked exactly like the Malboro man. It would have been in a shame if he didn’t play country.

We spent the night bouncing around the city drinking beer, talking jazz and eating momos. It sounds a little more romantic than it was. I think every one’s really overwhelmed by the place.

It’s really exhausting in it’s own way. It’s a real bubble and pretty much every one I’ve met spends all their time playing and/or getting high. Which is great, but I don’t think I’m really cut out for it. I’m repeating myself here, but Kathmandu has a real vibe and feel – and I think every one’s got a different take on it. Pranai’s in love; Nicholas digs it; Reuben is in like – but apprehensive and I am totally undecided.

Something that comes back to me is what Nikhil, my drummer from my swing trio, said to me. I definitely can’t quote word for word – but the general idea was that no one person can only be one thing. That, the idea itself defies the whole purpose of being human. I think a lot of people would disagree, but I think some personalities are really predisposed or not predisposed to doing just one thing.

The night ended badly – Pranai left his bag behind in the cab we used to get back home – and every one was exhausted and in a daze. No prizes for guessing what was inside the bag.

We have a missing passport. Fuck.

 

 

Kathmandu – Day 4

 

No sign of the bag or the passport. Pranai’s going to wait through the day, to see if the cabbie turns up with the bag – especially since there was no money inside it. He feels that there is a very good chance of it happening in Kathmandu. I’m a little more sceptical, but hopeful for his sake. We spent most of the morning lazing around and trying to figure out at what point to call the Indian consulate and what we’re going to need to do – in order to be back on Friday and play at the aman.

Lunch was great – we went out and got these Nepali thalis. They were really good and really spicy. I love spice – it makes things exciting. The food here is really cheap. There are really so many joints – with such a wide spectrum of culinary focus – that it’s hard to not want to experiment. There’s a huge cafe culture – just like up in the hills – but the only difference here, is that the food at each joint will taste and have a different feel from the next one. This is something that I remember being seriously untrue for the cafes in Goa/Dharamshala etc. Generally, if you’ve eaten at one, then you’ve eaten at them all. They’re just slightly done up places to get shit-faced – which fair enough, was probably the owners’ brainchild in the first place. 

After lunch we took some time off before our third gig – which was at this venue called Lakhe. Lakhe is a club/party area in the middle of Darbar barg – which is pretty much the most upmarket area of Kathmandu. It’s a little bit like a broader looking Harajuku – with international looking shops on either side of the road. I saw the hotel I stayed at when I came to Kathmandu with my grandfather over ten years (maybe a little more?). It hasn’t changed much. 

The gig went off great and I think every one had a lot of fun. I really did. The sound of the bass was perfect. It’s more than half the battle already won – even before the gig’s started. We played really tight – but there were quite a few small and annoying mistakes. As always, the crowd was great, even if it was a little on the thin side. I think they really enjoyed us.

There’s another huge article in the newspaper – with a big picture of me and Nicolas. I’m making a million dollar face – but other than that, I cannot fucking believe how perfect and how professional the article is. It’s so simple and to the point. A girl came in and interviewed us on the night we played at Moksh and she put down word for word – right to the fine point.

All of this in obvious contrast to Delhi with it’s third rate band of entertainment/music reporters – who can neither write nor report – and who I really think deserve to be lined up and slapped HARD. I get fucking agitated just thinking about some of the junk that people have put down.

 

Anyway, the gig went great – and tomorrow – we’re going Bunjee jumping !

 

 

Kathmandu – Day 5

 

The day definitely did not get off to the start we had intended. The intention lay in Pranai sorting out his passport with the consulate by 9.30, renting two bikes between the four of us and heading out towards the jump site by 10.30 and reaching somewhere around 4 or 5 – depending on traffic and the conditions of the road. What actually happened was that the bikes didn’t show up until 12.30m Pranai didn’t call the embassy till 2 – only to find out they only work at 12 – and we finally did leave – not at 10.30 but at 2.30.

 

The drive up was strange – in the sense that it was a drive of polar opposites. Either it was so enjoyable and so gorgeous that it made your mind want to explode – or – it was just straight up painful. Expectedly enough, getting out of Kathmandu was a little on the harsh side – a lot of traffic, a lot of smoke and a lot of dust. Once we got upto the mountains and eventually into the mountains – things were breathtaking – to say the least. The whole ride lasted about 4 hours or so with maybe one 15 minute break. The roads were pretty rough up in patches – mostly where there had been landslides. Things got a little out of hand towards the end because it started getting dark. We fell once where the road was really broken up and wet.

 

We reached the resort on the earlier side of 7. It was just about pitch black by the time we got there. The retrospectively funny part being that we almost over shot the resort. We’d been joking around about crossing the border into China – and getting held up by Chinese soldiers – when we reached the resort and told the owner about missing the gate – our little ‘joke’ was not very far from realization. A short dark 12km later, we would have hit the check post for Tibet – we were on the national highway that connects to China.

 

The first thing you have to do, to get to the resort - is cross this rickety-looking bridge that connects two sides of a valley. It is a really long bridge and it takes about two minutes to cross, if you’re walking briskly. The lower metal panels on which you walk are a little like a xylophone – there’s a little space between every panel and you can see the river raging down between the cracks. The bridge swings around pretty wildly – and about half way down I see a square platform extending out of the bridge. That’s the jump-side and it’s fucking scary.

 

In virtue of getting there so late, we have to push the jump to the morning. I was upset about having more time to have it hover around me – but it’s not like there was any choice in the matter at all. It was too intimidating to not jump.

 

I rode with Nicolas – and Pranai and Reuben were on the other bike. It was easily the longest bike ride I’ve ever had. I’m still not much of a fan – but I do understand where the fans come from. Like I said – at some points, the view, the landscape and the air were just too much to take in. They overwhelmed you – mostly with gratitude for just even being able to be part of it, in some small way. There was in the transitions between mountains and cities – some really bad industrial patches. Everything seemed to be under-construction and the amount of smoke and dust just did me in.

 

Getting back to the resort though – the place really was a gem. It’s place in the middle of a forest/hill area and it’s smack in the middle of the nature. One of those non-obtrusive, yet super comfortable places to be. We stayed in a tent for four and it rained the whole night we were there. The sounds of the water, mixed with the sounds of the river – along with all the smells of the forest made for a good night. I was pretty occupied with the idea of jumping though.

 

 

Kathmandu – Day 6

 

Jump day! Through the course of the trip – Nicolas and I had no doubts about the fact that we were jumping. Reuben had been fluctuating and when he finally did see the bridge the night before. He was fascinated but in his words, “no one in their right minds would jump off of that thing.”. Point well made, my drummer friend. Come the morning, Pranai realized that he needed to be at the embassy – Reuben decided to accompany him back to Kathmandu and both of them left around 9.30 or so.

 

Nicolas and I got briefed for our jumps round at 9.30 too. The jump master told us about jumping techniques, took our weights and made us fill in the usual forms about insurance and, my favourite part: Emergency Contacts. Nicolas had a French number listed and I had an Indian one. Good amount of help that would have been.

 

In any case, we were on the bridge by 10. It was the second time I was looking at the bridge during the day. The first time being earlier in the morning with Reuben. The peak that consolidated his decision not to jump. The gorge was really beautiful during the day and the river had a majestic-look of it’s own. The bridge was swinging like a bitch though. You could barely stand still on it.
The instructors/assistants showed up and harnessed both me and Nicolas down. We’d agreed to let me go first – but the instructors called on 63kg first anyway. They sat me down and hooked me the bungee rope up to me and asked me to come out onto the platform.

 

The platform was something that was attached to the bridge – on the periphery. It has no handles or railings and it just looks out onto the landscape and naturally, straight down. It was an insane feeling standing on the edge of it – body and arms free – knowing that I’d have to, with the force of my own muscles, jump off of it. The scene defies every survival instinct in your body. The jump master doesn’t give you too much time to take it in. The minute you’re at the edge, I just heard him go, “3..2..1..Bungee!’. And off I went – without a thought in my mind.

 

I plummeted. The jump in Nepal is the second highest in the world – and about 160m high. The drop lasts for just about 4 seconds and I kept me eyes open through the whole thing. There aren’t words to describe the sensation. It’s just a rush – one that wraps up pretty quickly though. By the time I got down, I felt like it hadn’t happened – but looking straight back up at the bridge was something. It was a half an hour trek back up the mountain to get to the resort. I don’t mind trekking, but I really wasn’t dressed for it and the terrain was a lot rougher than I thought it would be. It took half an hour to undo 4.5 seconds.

 

Nicolas jumped right after I did and he recorded both our falls. His was recorded first person because he taped his camera to his hand and pointed it face down. They’re both great videos and I’ll put them up soon.

 

We headed out back for Kathmandu and made it home around 3. The drive was the same as it was on the way up. Hellish in parts but stunning in others. My body, and I think every one else’s as well, remember the sore parts at this juncture.

 

We had our last gig of the tour at this major-jazz venue called Jazz Upstairs. I tried being excited for it, but I couldn’t get it together. By the time we got back to Kathmandu and to the venue it was almost 7.30. The best part was, it seems the guys at the venue mixed up our dates and they didn’t think we were coming. I really just felt like taking a pass. I was spent and I could barely think – leave alone play.

 

The gig went moreorless as I had imagined. On the whole, I think the band had a good collected sound – every one really liked how it went – and the crowd here really digs us. I was a real mess though and the amplifier I had kept churning out this bullshit overdriven bass tone. We played about two hours and I tried my best to just enjoy it. It was just too deliberate though. “HAVE FUN. YOU MUST HAVE FUN.”

 

In any case, we pulled through the night and I’d like to believe in style. We met a lot of interesting people – most of them who had very nice things to say about us ;). By the time we got home, there wasn’t much left of anybody. Especially me. I think I’m falling sick.

 

 

 

Day 7 – Kathmandu

 

That’s it. Full Circle. It’s 9.20 am – and I think pretty much everybody is done packing up. We’re trying to figure out how to get all the equipment together and to the airport. 6 days – 4 gigs and seeing how it’s Friday, we’ll be playing back the aman tonight and tomorrow night. I have fallen sick and I think Nicolas and Pranai have too.

 

I’m spent but I’m feeling really good and really happy. I don’t really feel like coming back to Delhi – getting back to taking care of the Masters and checking up with the University all the time. It was good being here and I’m grateful, as always, for the whole experience.

 

I got to figure out a lot out about myself, about the band, about music and where I stand. Watching other bass players – playing infront of crowds made up mostly of musicians – gives you a lot of think about.

 

Like MGMT says, take only what you need from it.

 

 J