quite a few of you would know about my interest in photography, some of you would have seen my work too. for those who have lauded me for my work, I have some good news. for those who haven’t, this is an opportunity to form/re-form your opinion.
I am holding the first ever exhibit of my photographic works. yes, I am. it’s being held at mood indigo, the annual cultural festival of iit mumbai from the 21st to the 24th of december 2009. titled ‘staring at the sun’, this is a micro collection of 16 images and would be on display around the performance area all day. see the attachments for info. I would be there on the 22nd and 23rd, so in case any of you folks are out there want to catch up, I’d love to. plus, in case you didn’t know already, porcupine tree and vishal-shekhar are supposed to perform during the fest too. which adds another good reason for you to be there.
pass this on to as many friends and friends of friends as you can. and more importantly, be there if you can. it would mean a lot to me.
and if you are there on 22nd or 23rd, and don’t see me around, do give me a buzz on my number. don’t worry, I am learning to handle criticism well enough too.
Vultures aren’t what your exact image of a predator would be. At best, you would tend to view them as a somewhat aging and beaten up distant relative of the more dangerous raptors. They would not swoop down for their kill. They would rather contentedly chomp on the remains of the kill at leisure. You might be wondering about the reason behind this seemingly superficial discourse on ornithological evolution. Can’t really blame us – after all, if three rockstars name their collective act as “Them Crooked Vultures”, there are bound to be questions ringing in your heads. John Paul Jones, Dave Grohl and Josh Homme. Super super stars in their own right, and each of them inarguably defining an era when the material they spewed from their records created musical history. John Paul Jones may have been the quietest and the most under-rated member of Led Zeppelin, but that’s probably because he let his bass strings do the talking. And not just the bass, he possessed the rare quality of being a multi-instrumentalist extraordinaire, which he displayed with élan on various Led Zep compositions. Similar was the dilemma of Dave Grohl, who got eclipsed by the presence of Cobain. Post Nirvana, it seems he acquired ‘moksha’ too, proving his mettle on Foo Fighters and Probot. The only one who has most certainly been part of the limelight in all his ventures is Josh Homme. With his brand of stoner laced psychedelic rock, he turned Queens of the Stone Age into a voice which bought that hard hitting punch into rock and roll the way it was always supposed to be. The self titled debut album of Them Crooked Vultures promises to be exactly that. We are closing towards the end of this year, so we think we can safely call this one of the best ones to have come out this year. With its tasteful pummelling tones, TCV has the capacity to pulverize your senses. Yet leave it pleasantly relieved. The self deprecatingly titled “No One Loves Me & Neither Do I” immediately harkens you back to an era in rock and roll which has long since been taken over by synthetic melodies and Autotune vocal tweaks. Heavy, hard hitting and not exactly verbose, this is rock and roll delivered on a platter which was readied on the anvil of virtuosity. The mood laden slides of the guitar sway you throughout the album. And just when you felt you had gotten yourself lost amongst the groove of Jones and Homme, Grohl brings you back to senses with his acerbic treatment of the skins. Variations, diversions and transgressions – these are ingredients which are found in abundance throughout most of the tracks. The gradual progression with which “Elephants” builds up into a screaming crescendo peaking for a four minutes of the track, and then slowly glides down could serve as one of the best exemplification of this sort. The ditsy cymbal led opener on the lead single “New Fang” possesses, just like its name, a sting which injects new found venom. Though we couldn’t really make out much about why Homme is talking about ‘breaking fingers’. Lyrical prowess isn’t really expected here either. As long as there are enough jabs like the harmonically inclined blues driven “Scumbag Blues”, you wouldn’t really care about words anyway. Which is found in plenty on “Bandoliers” or the distorted “Warsaw Or The First Breath You Take”. Come on, even the oddly spaced out “Interlude with the Ludes” doesn’t seem incongruous amongst the heavyweight tracks it is surrounded by. It rather serves as a breather, before you are set back in motion by the “Gunman”. Jones doesn’t need to prove himself. But he does emerge in his own quiet way as the big daddy of the band when he exudes texture with his slide guitar on “Reptiles” and the clavinet on “Scumbag Blues”. Understandably, the temptation would have been too hard to resist. They may have already made victims of us in their previous avatars as birds of prey, and swept down upon unsuspecting prey in the years gone by. And though some might say they have aged, they still contain that glint in the corner of their eyes which shows that natural instinct they possess. Only this time around, the victims are more than willing to be devoured by them.
On his latest album “Battle Studies”, John Mayer sings “who says I can’t be free / from all of the things that I used to be / rewrite my history / who says I can’t be free”. This would be the sentiment which would sum up the direction of the Mayer’s musical pursuits in recent years. Though he tasted initial success as a pop star, he soon enough bid adieu and moved on to a slightly more serious form of music. His forays into blues have earned him both applaud and ridicule – but then he got to share stage with Eric Clapton, after all. Though the lead single “Who Says” comes across as more of a pop driven hummable tune, but then you need to explore further into the album to come across the hidden gems. Wait till you reach the twisting guitar tones on “Assassin” and you would begin to get a feeling of what lies beyond. On the way, you would of course encounter Taylor Swift on “Half of my Heart”, but she makes her presence felt on the country influenced chorus. John attempts a cover of “Crossroads” as well, and though it may not be anywhere close to Cream’s version, it deserves acknowledgement. “Friends Lovers or Nothing” attempts to incorporate mainstream blues with pop as well, but sadly barring “Assassin” and “Crossroads”, the album fails to stir up the right chords. “Do You Know Me” does make up a bit, but for someone who reveres Stevie Ray Vaughan as a guitar god, you would tend to expect more. Loosen up, John. We want to see you drive that six stringer into a mad reverie.
With the days of revving ahead on “Heavy Fuel” left a few decades behind, Mark Knopfler has chalked out a successful solo career for himself. And though we haven’t exactly found much affinity between his solo ventures and the musical variety of his past, we don’t think anybody has been complaining. After all, Knopfler is one guitarman who commands respect when he plays with the strings in his trademark finger plucking style. “Get Lucky” is an album which overflows with a passion that comes only too naturally to the genre of blues. There isn’t a single instance where you feel that Knopfler is straining the music a bit too hard; barring the sizzling panache as he exits “Cleaning My Gun”, of course. Knopfler doesn’t sing. He talks. And with the timbre he possesses in his baritone, it’s pretty much apt and fitting that he tells us stories. Stories of times past and present, told from the wise eyes of a man who has seen it all. Simple tunes telling simple stories from everyday life. Knopfler doesn’t depend on his guitar alone. His Celtic influences are visible throughout – the flute on the title track, the accordion on “Piper to the End”, the piano on “You Can’t Beat The House” – each of which act as formidable companions. Hear it once and you would immediately realize the soothing effect it has on your soul.
Given a choice to pick up a name from amongst that narrow niche of music known as industrial metal, and most folks would jump to Rammstein. Such is the worldwide following of this band, the fact that they compose and sing most of their songs in their native German doesn’t pose itself as a deterrent at all. Out with their album, “Liebe Ist fur Alle Da” (translates into Love is there for everyone), Rammstein have probably released some of the best work they have till now. The common perception would be that these Teutonic metal fanatics would have darker sides with pagan affiliations. Rammstein however choose to surprise their fans with the obtuse wordplay they use on their tracks, which become evident when you listen to the lyrics on “Pussy”, which is sung partly in English. These guys are out to have some good humored fun, and they make sure their fans get a fair share as well. Mammoth riffs, snare beats which could put a Tommy gun to shame, and a musical movement which would send you into involuntary spasms – that’s what would sum up this album. The heavyweight thrashing intro of “Buckstabu” crushes you under its weight, and “Waidmanns Heil” takes you back into the familiar territory of “Fueur Frei”. These guys from Deutschland can’t be thanked enough for the mighty element of danceability they infused into metal.
Oklahoma rockers The Flaming Lips have been known for a brand of music laced with copious amount of psychedelic allusions, pushing it to an extent where it may be termed as going a bit over the edge by most people. But then the excesses they employ – be it in their studio productions or their larger than life live performances – are what characterise the essence of the reason for their eclectic success and following. Their latest album “Embryonic” just pushes those boundaries to another level. With a double album, and tracks ranging from epic durations to the blink-and-you-miss-it duration, “Embryonic” challenges the conventional expectations from an album. Overflowing with subliminal grooves and hypnotic tension, the fuzzy tones deserve themselves to be terms as oddities in a celestial journey. The screeching halts on “Aquarius Sabotage”, the fantastic doses of ambrosia on “Silver Trembling Hands” or the opening minutes of “Convinced of the Hex” – each track deserves to be heard again and again. For the simple reason, that the nuances present on each track may not really be discernable. There is a good possibility that you might be glowing in another subtlety on that track at that very moment when you miss the others. And by the time you are done listening to the album a few times over, we wouldn’t be surprised that you start seeing the music engulfing you on all fronts.
Appetite for Destruction - Guns N' Roses
The Ecstatic - Mos Def
The Fall - Norah Jones
