Category: Culture

Everything cultural that interests me: music, reading, science, arts in general, news, photography…

Expo photo [fr]

Vernissage de l’expo photo de l’Helvète Underground ce soir à  Blonay.

Chers amis et chères amies de la région, on n’oublie pas d’aller montrer le bout de son nez printanier au vernissage de l’Helvète, ce soir dès 18h00 à  Blonay (oui, c’est bien 18h00, quoi qu’en dise l’affiche).

Sunday CD's #3 [en]

Five CD’s in my CD rack: Khoobsurat soundtrack, Khakee soundtrack, Killing Me Softly by Roberta Flack, U2’s Unforgettable Fire, and Véronique Sanson comme ils l’imaginent.

This is turning into a bi-weekly feature, though through no intentional design. We’ll see how things evolve during the next weeks.

Here for today:

Khakee soundtrack (playing)
Khakee is the first Hindi movie I saw during my most recent trip to India. I didn’t particularly like the movie, but the soundtrack is actually really nice. I wasn’t intending to buy it, but nearing the end of my last visit to Crossword, they were playing Dil Dooba (sung by Sonu Nigam). I grabbed the CD and fled.
Khoobsurat soundtrack (playing)
Khoobsurat was a pretty popular movie/soundtrack when I was living in Pune. I didn’t really like care for it until I went to Alibag with Danielle and the driver played the cassette during the whole trip. By the time we got back home, I had a serious crush on the song Main Adhuri Si (avoid it if you have trouble with high-pitched female voices) and found the title song was a perfect souvenir-soundtrack to the trip.
Roberta Flack: Killing Me Softly
Who doesn’t know the song? CD of my father’s, which I borrowed to be able to rehearse the song for karaoke (haven’t dared sing it yet, though). And for those of you young’uns, Killing Me Softly was made famous by Roberta Flack way before the Fugees sang it!
U2: The Unforgettable Fire
Many years ago when I was entering my teens, U2 was singing With or Without You. Around that time, either my brother or I asked for a U2 LP for Christmas. Was it The Joshua Tree or The Unforgettable Fire? I’d have to go to my father’s to check, but I think it was the latter. I remember clearly that we used to play a cassette of the former in the car quite a lot around that period. Anyway, I bought this CD a year or so back, because it was on sale (surprised?), and I’m not really sure I’ve listened to it since. I bought if for Pride (In The Name Of Love), of course.
Véronique Sanson: comme ils l’imaginent
I’ve always liked Véronique Sanson but I never had a CD by her. So when this one came out (a collection of her songs sung by or with other popular male singers), I was offered it as a gift for Christmas (or my birthday? must be one of the other).

Five more next week, or the week after!

Sunday CD's #2 [en]

5 CD’s in my CD rack: Blue Touches Blue by Noa, One Day At A Time by Joan Baez, Bienvenue chez moi by Florent Pagny, Southside by Texas, and Ricky Martin (album by the same name).

Sorry for letting you down last week, I was busy showing these two frenchmen around.

Here we go:

Noa: Blue Touches Blue (playing)
My sister gave me this CD (for my birthday?) a few years back. I own three Noa CD’s, and this is the one I’ve listened to least (although there are some nice songs on it). I put it in the CD player about an hour ago before taking my bath, and I’m listening to it now.
Ricky Martin: Ricky Martin
I discovered Ricky Martin during my year in India, as a couple of his songs were regularly playing on the music TV channels I watched — I enjoyed drooling in front of the TV set while he danced. I particularly like Livin’ La Vida Loca and (even more) Private Emotion, but I’ve hardly really listened to the CD in its entirety.
Texas: Southside
One of the first CD’s I got when I was a teenager. Listened to it quite a lot for some time (actually, I’m going to put it in my CD player right now, I haven’t listened to it for years!) I played the drums in a vague school band at the time (we tried to get something going for the 10th school anniversary, but dropped it after three months or so), and I remember we were preparing I Don’t Want a Lover.
Joan Baez: One Day At A Time
Well, although this one spends a lot of time in my CD rack, it isn’t actually mine — it’s my father’s (maybe I should give it back one of these days *ahem*). A long-time favourite, Joan Baez having been my first “favourite singer”. I’ve listened to it a lot again these last few years (it regularly finds it way back into the CD player).
Florent Pagny: Bienvenue chez moi
I was a teenager when Florent Pagny arrived on the French music scene with the song N’importe quoi. Over the years, I heard more songs from him, and I’m clearly impressed by his vocal skills (he had training in classical singing). This CD is a best-of with a couple of unreleased songs on it, and as far as I can tell from the little green sticker on the cover, it must have been part of a discount sale. It’s not a CD that I listen to regularly, but I’ve had my phases with it.

Five more next week!

Sunday CD's #1 [en]

Five CD’s I own: Live in Dublin by Chris de Burgh, Dil Chahta Hai soundtrack, Asia (eponym album), Rebel by John Miles, and Stereotomy by The Alan Parsons Project. More next week!

Stephanie made me notice yesterday that she had not really figured out what music I liked. In a sudden surge of inspiration, I had an idea for a little game I’m going to play with you these next weeks. Feel free to copy and repeat for yourself!

I’ll try to pick 5 CD’s out of my CD-rack each Sunday (the one currently in my CD player and four more as randomly as possible, with my eyes closed). I’ll list them and tell you in a few words why I have this CD in my CD-rack, if I listen to it a lot, how much I like it — in short, what it means to me. In other words, this amounts to using my CD collection to give you a little insight into my musical tastes, history and culture.

So here goes, 5 CD’s for today:

Chris de Burgh: High on Emotion — Live from Dublin (playing)
This is one of the last batch of 5€ CD’s I ordered at Amazon after Christmas. Chris de Burgh was my second “favorite singer” when I was ten or so (after Joan Baez). We had lots of Chris de Burgh LP’s and cassettes at my parents, which I left behind as I moved out, and now (thanks to Amazon) I’m re-building my collection. I like Live albums in general, so I picked this one up — and I don’t regret it.
Dil Chahta Hai soundtrack
During my previous trip to India, I went to see one hindi movie: Dil Chahta Hai. As usual, I bought the soundtrack as a souvenir. I remember I used to listen to it a lot when I started work just after the trip, and it still makes me India-nostalgic when I listen to it. There are some really nice songs on it (like the title song of course, and I have a soft spot for “Tanhayee” — and Sonu Nigam’s voice.)
Asia: Asia
This is another album I picked out of my father’s extensive LP collection when I was a (pre-)teenager. Probably I heard him playing it once, and noted I liked it. I used to play the LP in the kitchen when I was cleaning up after evening meals. I made myself a cassette with my father’s two Asia LP’s, and listened to it in my room a lot. I bought the CD recently (in one of those “cheap CD” boxes in a store) for historical reasons, and I listen to it every now and again.
John Miles: Rebel
I just love the song “Music” (another one I discovered through my father’s LP’s) and bought the CD just for that song, in another “cheap CD” box. I’m not sure I’ve ever listened to the whole album since I bought it. But I own it 🙂
The Alan Parsons Project: Stereotomy
Yet another out of my father’s collection and my teenage years (they all seem to come out from there, don’t they?) I haven’t listened to it for ages, but I really like all the songs on it. When I was in Gymnase (the swiss equivalent of High School), I had it on a cassette with “Eye on the Sky” and used to listen to it on my walkman, during one cold Lausanne winter.

That’s it for today, folks! Today’s choice gives the impression that all my musical culture comes from my father’s LP collection (not entirely wrong, but not entirely right either), and that I buy all my CD’s at discount prices (pretty correct, actually — I go on CD-shopping binges when they are anywhere below the normal presposterous prices.)

Indian Things I Love [en]

I’m regularly told that I give a bad image of India (the horror stories and all that). Here is some of the nice stuff that I never write about. Things I like about India.

I’m regularly told that I give a bad image of India (the horror stories and all that). Here is some of the nice stuff that I never write about. Things I like about India:

  • the rivers
  • poha
  • riding on the back of Madhav or Shinde’s bikes
  • the shopping stalls near Laxmi Rd
  • walking in the university campus
  • going to the movies
  • mad shopping binges
  • kathi rolls and kheer kadam from Radhika’s
  • chay
  • the smell of incense and fresh coriander
  • people who smile at me or compliment my dress
  • rickshaw drivers who go by the meter
  • chatting with people on the train
  • coloured clothes and cloth
  • travelling by train
  • shopping
  • changes of plans and surprises when they go the way I want them to
  • painted signs and boards
  • rangoli
  • sari bags
  • krack cream
  • the dampness of the air on arrival in Bombay airport
  • kulfi and gulab jamun
  • butter naan and butter chicken
  • the warmth
  • having all the time in the world to take my bath and eat my breakfast
  • glass bangles and silver anklets
  • reading for days on end
  • children in school uniforms
  • eating on the kitchen floor
  • the cup of tea offered by the internet café manager because I’m waiting for the end of the power outage
  • Hindi and Indian English
  • negociating seating arrangements and luggage storage with fellow train-passengers
  • sticking 46 large stamps on the 6.5kg book parcel I’m sending home
  • the Kal Ho Na Ho ringtone on Anita’s cellphone
  • sweet-smelling flowers in the night
  • Hindi music in the car
  • chay with milk straight out of the goat’s udder at Taramai’s

Thekkady [en]

In Thekkady, a hill-station in Kerala. Been sick, brief description of the place.

Thekkady is a nice hill-station. For the moment, the most I’ve seen of it is my hotel bedroom, thanks to the gastro-entritis that kept me in bed all day and in the bathroom all night. As far as I can see, Thekkady is mainly composed of a street lined with identical shops (with identical men in front of the shops trying to tempt you in by asking you what your name is and where you come from). When the street gets tired of shops, they turn into pretty expensive resorts, all next to each other (Cardamom Country, Spice Village, Taj Garden retreat and our more modest Ambady).

We got here yesterday after an afternoon on the road. We hired a private car, but gave up trying to communicate with the driver after he stopped the car and nearly turned back, obviously in a misguided attempt to try to satisfy an imaginary request of ours, when Anita was simply asking a curious question about the route we were taking.

Cellphones don’t work here, enquiries about paying with VISA are greeted with crispated smiles and a barely audible “no… cash please!”, and broadband internet access seems like science-fiction. You’ll therefore have to wait until I’m back in Mumbai (or at best, Cochin) to see any of the photos and videos Anita and I have been furiously shooting (within the limits of the storage space available on the memory card, of course).

I have quite a lot of backlog to type up, going back to my three weeks in Pune. Watch older entries, you might find new reading!

Savitri III [en]

At every moment we make an unalterable decision. When I wrote to you in the beginning, I made one.

At every moment we make an unalterable decision. When I wrote to you in the beginning, I made one. I made another when I invited you to Tirupet. After you had been and gone, when I gave you that string of answers to your questions, then again I made a decision. I have not altered it. The psychological basis of my behaviour did not come in the way of this. Only I did not get the response I wanted. Had I got it, I would have come anywhere with you, done anythng for you. Every girl, the instant she is born, comes prepared to leave her mother and her father.

You might perhaps say that you too expected a response and that you did not get it. How can I give an answer to this? To tell you the truth, one ought to be able to arrive at these decisions without resorting to the language of appeal and response.

Now, after writing all this, I feel embarrassed. If reading this causes you any sorrow then forget me for all time.

Savitri II [en]

You want love, and I don’t want it? What is it that I have given you these six years

You want love, and I don’t want it? What is it that I have given you these six years? Only I did not get entangled in the nomenclature of what I wanted, of what I still want–that’s all. You ought to have carried me off, dragged me away–yes, I am writing what’s true, what’s absolutely true. Nothing is ever gained by analysing things. We only become strangers to our own selves.

P. S. Rege, Savitri

Savitri I [en]

When we were children, my friend’s brother was once to have come from a far-off place. I saw her weep because he didn’t come. I even teased her.

When we were children, my friend’s brother was once to have come from a far-off place. I saw her weep because he didn’t come. I even teased her. Then I too sat and wept with her. Today I didn’t weep. Why? Because I am beginning to learn that one shouldn’t look too far ahead nor try to reshape what has already taken place. What has happened must be left as it is–far away. By holding on to it, the shades tend to grow faint. That’s all.

P. S. Rege, Savitri

Deliverance [en]

You are a writer, I told myself; yet you readily give a wide berth to raw reality when you encounter it…

You are a writer, I told myself; yet you readily give a wide berth to raw reality when you encounter it, as if living was a thing apart from the truth of existence of that truth was a thing apart from writing–as if living and truth and writing bore no relation to one another: as if each hung like a cold corpse from its own separate gallows.

Nirmal Verma, Deliverance