Ayn Marx

Some Marxists are turned on by the kinkiest things.

Lisnaholic

A lot of writers, both published and unpublished, start out with that semi-autobiographical novel that looks at a young persons coming of age or their early adult years. Colin Wilson, who went on to write some extraordinary books, did that too, with Adrift In Soho. Set in London in 1950, he describes the adventures of a young man who falls in with various beggars, artists, drunks in the pubs and cafés of a very specific part of London. One afternoon walking from the National Gallery to a rendezvous in a café, "I crossed the square, where a four-piece street band was playing Tin Roof Blues, and turned up Charing Cross Road."

The earliest Tin Roof Blues I saw on Youtube was from 1923, but this version is a bit closer to the time CW would have heard it. Usually, if CW mentions music at all, it's to make an intellectual point but that isn't the case here - which actually points to the charm of this book: we see CW as straight-forward guy absorbing the bohemian haunts of London and wondering what to do with his life.



My opinion: For once in this thread, a piece of music from a genre I like. This strikes me as agreeable rather than outstanding, but it's interesting to think that this was a tune CW could recognize in the street and that, presumably, he expected at least some readers to recognize the title.

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"Am I enjoying this moment? I know of it and perhaps that is enough." - Sybille Bedford, 1953

Lisnaholic

When she was 36, Monica Ali's first novel, Brick Lane, was published to great critical acclaim. Her novel is most notable for its subject matter: exploring the often hum-drum life of a Bangladeshi family living in a block of Council flats near central London. (Council flats = British version of America's "projects")
The book does a good job of shining some light on a type of person who is often overlooked: Muslim women in Western cities. It's easy enough to read, has a couple of interesting characters, but has some limitations too. Within four years the book had been turned into a movie, but along with its outward success came a fair amount of controversy as well: the community Monica A was describing felt that they were being caricatured, and in truth this Bengali/British group of Muslims might well feel defensive. They are ostracized by many other Londoners for being so foreign, and criticized by other Muslims for being impure and too Westernised.

One Bangladeshi rock band that gets a mention in Brick Lane is called "Miles". Led by Shafin Ahmed, they are a pop-rock band living and recording in Bangladesh and Jala Jala was one of their bigger hits. It was released in 1996 and so falls exactly into the time period described by Monica Ali:



My verdict: This starts strong with a great guitar riff and it has the kind of easy-to-remember title that used to dominate the Eurovision Song Contest at one time.(Remember these classics of international baby-talk: La La La, Boom Bang-a-Bang, Ding-a-Dong and Diggi-Loo, Diggi-Ley? All Eurovision Song Contest winners.) I like the short interludes of synth and guitar, but for me, Miles never move far enough away from the pop format to be really interesting.

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"Am I enjoying this moment? I know of it and perhaps that is enough." - Sybille Bedford, 1953

Ayn Marx

A fascinating thread. Has me again wondering why contemporary classical music so frequently ignores the state of the world today.

music_collector

I wonder if these individual feedback speakers are used with older acts in which the singer has lost his/her voice?

Frownland

Not hearing what the band is doing>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>not hearing what you're doing

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Studies show that when a given norm is changed in the face of the unchanging, the remaining contradictions will parallel the truth.

Lisnaholic

You probably won't recognise the title, Cielito Lindo, but I bet you'll recognise the swaying hook line: "Ay Ay Ay Ay, Canto y no llores":



Best known Mariachi song in the world, I should think, which is why, back in 1951, the local band in the Peruvian town of Cartavio had it on their playlist when they were hired to play by Cartavio's bigwigs. At the time, the local aristocracy were trying to diffuse tensions with the exploited workers of the town's sugar industry, and so they contrived a public party in the Main Square:



It's all there in Marie Arana's memoir, American Chica: Two Worlds, One Childhood.

My Verdict: It's a pity the song is so hackneyed that it's become a joke today. It has some sentimental lyrics about a girl identified as "Lovely Little Sky" but it's real power is in the the admonition of the chorus, "Ay, ay, ay! Sing and don't cry!". It's just the perfect drinking song for people who want to drown their sorrows. You can almost see the beer slopping out of their mugs as people sway and sing along. Highly recommended next time you are planning a roaring, squealing bacchanalia of your own.

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"Am I enjoying this moment? I know of it and perhaps that is enough." - Sybille Bedford, 1953

Lisnaholic

There's no way I'd go on a road trip with 51-year-old Deborah Lacks, but there is also no way in a zillion years that she ever would have invited me. It took intrepid science student and (now) published writer, Rebecca Skloot over a year of patience and sympathy to win Deborah's trust. Why was that worth doing? Well, read Rebecca Skloot's excellent book of science journalism, The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks and the question will be answered.

Meanwhile, back on those road trips: the starting point was Baltimore and the year was 2000/2001 :-



My Verdict: I was very surprised to hear an opening line that Van Morrison copied complete and used to make a song of his own. But after that spark of surprise, my interest in this song dwindled pretty fast, as it usually does with soul music. William Bell has a sincere-sounding, reassurring voice, but the song sounds like so many other ballads, helped along by strings and sax, in which a man sings about needing love, caring, holding on girl, etc, etc. It's a song clearly designed to win over a woman, which is perhaps why Deborah liked it and I don't. Still, in the context of a road trip, I can see this song fitting in very well: in a movie, it'll be that part where the initial excitement has passed and the people are just putting in the miles, no need for conversation, as the landscape is washed in beautiful afternoon sunlight, which slowly fades into the sadness of evening. I wonder if that was how it was for Deborah and Rebecca? Now only Rebecca knows, because Deborah died eight years after those road trips, aged 60.

R.I.P. Deborah Lacks, who, more than most people, was clearly in need of rest and peace during her lifetime.

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"Am I enjoying this moment? I know of it and perhaps that is enough." - Sybille Bedford, 1953