Lapses of lingy…

Met a demented jazz painist today, who plays really, really well. But demented, eccentric chap in his 50s.

Music update. My band Tequila is performing at Jazz on Feb 8th. Looking forward to that.

Will also be singing with demented jazz pianist.

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Yum yum…

Heading to this new restaurant called Waffles to meet the chef on work. Will have the update on what to eat by this evening.

If you plan to drop in at Out Of The Blue at Union Park, Bandra do check out the barbeque menu. There’s only one prawn dish with a complex name, which is absolutely divine. According to the chef, it is an Argentinian dish.

And if you drop in Mocha, you give the Lindt Hot Chocolate a miss. It costs Rs 150 and is so saccharine sweet, you’ll feel diabetic after a bit.

The Sangria is awesome though. It’s got wine and rum and lots of chopped fruit in it.

Sulagna, the chocolate addict gave me a chocolate bar, yesterday. I left it home, as i’m not into chocolate bars though molten chocolate is great. When I got back it was gone. She apparently stared at it for one whole minute and then decided, what the hell!

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Oh shut-up…!

My journey towards being an ace part-time vocalist is peppered with some bizarre, almost surreal experiences.

The day before yesterday I get a call from Mr L, who has a smart alec-y edge in his voice. “Are you a vocalist?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say. When i ask him for more information on himself ( and I meant his musical inclinations), he says, ” What do you want to know? I am married to a beautiful woman, have some beautiful kids.”

“Er…I meant what do you sing.” He sounds irritated and and then demands,” Merril, do you want to sing with me tomorrow or not?”

The man is obnoxious! I yelled at the top of my lungs,” No, I don’t. You are arrogant and rude.” Sulagna who was walking alongside me on a main road in Bandra, started with fright.

” No, no. I am not like that. Don’t get me wrong. Why don’t you meet me for coffee and we can talk.”

So, I say allright, thinking that an arrogant, pompous arse might still be a good musician.

We meet in the evening and he is full of gyaan. I decide to do the gig, more out of curiosity, to see of Mr L can actually sing.

I reach the venue to next day and am twiddling my thumbs, in the lobby. My friend Alan, comes to my rescue and we have coffee. Mr L arrives about an hour late.

Alan flees after meeting him. We start to sing and he is REALLY, REALLY BAD. I want to flee, but my sense of integrity dictates otherwise. Sulagna drops in for a bit. L proceeds to spread his innumerous dogmas on politics, smoking and various other facets of life. She is soon asleep and not subtle about it at all.

The gig ends, and he orders dinner for us. I tell him we are joining friends in the vicinity. Call them here, he commands. By now, I am fuming. We have a bite and then head out. He is not happy about out abrupt departure in the least.

A few minutes later he lands up too, very strangely. Luckily he does not sit with us, but walked in to the restaurant, said goodnight and walked out. What was that all about? Anyways, the evening gave us much fodder for discussion and we shared lots of laughs.

He calls me this morning to ask me, ” So did you have a good time or a great time yesterday?”

I give an excuse of being at work and not being able to speak. I suspect he wants me to sing again, because he kept telling me that I sing well. Fat chance! This one is pshychotic.

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The frenzy of Mozart’s 250th B’day anniversary caught up with us here in Mumbai too.

Attended a workshop last Thursday – Mozart In Context. The lecturer, a conductor from London, David Bray, spoke about the life and times of Mozart.

Like a lot of creative people, M died a pauper. He never quite got the respect he commands today, not to mention the monetary benefits, in spite of the fact that even then, he was a household name in Austria.

Apparently Beethoven ‘liked’ Mozart’s music, but he also thought it a wee bit tame. Coming from Beethoven, that’s not surprising.

Anyways, there was this rich creature called Count Valchek or Valcek. He would throw lots of lavish parties for his friends. He had this particular bad habit of passing off music by other composers as his own. Now, his friends knew this, but they would humour him because he wasn’t really bad at heart.

He offered Mozart 30 dockets as advance for writing a Requiem which he would then proceed to pass off as his own. Mozart started writing it and in fact did complete most it, but he passed away without finishing his. His wife, got a few composers to finish it, so she could get the remaining money from the count.

We heard his Requiem in D Minor, the day after the workshop conducted by David Bray. The Bombay Chamber Orchestra and the Newman Choir performed.

It was looooong! Some parts were very intense, some parts a little lacklustre and some very lively. I suppose one has to cultivate a ear for classical music.

Anyways, my snooty friend Alan (who I think will make a good critic) felt some animosity towards the clarinet players, because they never seemed to know when to stop playing. If you heard and extra horn, it was from them. Very disturbing.

Remo attended the performance. I spotted Kanwaljit too. And all the Parsis of Colaba ( wearing pearls) and Catholics from Bandra were there I think.

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Hic…

On Wednesday night, we visisted a photographer friend’s studio. Now, this chap really savours his rum, but his bar was nowhere in sight. He suggested we look for it. So, we snooped around like kids in search of a treasure trove.

There was a huge mirror placed right next to the dressing space, the kind you have in a green room. It was as huge vertical mirror with bulbs fixed all around on the wooden panels. Curiously, there was a keyhole embedded on the right edge. That was it.

He reached for his key and unlocked it and voila! There was Old Monk, glasses and all.

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NO show

There’s a jazz concert happening at The Gateway today at 7 pm. Can’t go for it. Tragic.

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Music from Africa

On Sunday attended a performance by the Tribhangi Dance Theatre, a troupe from South Africa.

There was this African woman dressed in a vibrant yellow top which resembled a kurta and a black skirt with concentric circles of colourful piping. She belted out two songs, Meadowlands and Patta Patta.

During the Arpatheid era, black people were evicted from their homes and shipped off to a place known as the Meadowlands. Though a very lively number, sung very animately by the singer, the meanings were obviously rather sad.

The rest of the troupe dabbled in Bharatnatyam, fusion dancing etc.

The Bharatnatyam was performed by 3 black men, with very little grace and finesse and a lot of the fusion dancing was also dissappointing.

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Anyone for barbeque?

A new restaurant called the Barbeque Nation has just opened in Bandra, Mumbai. Slug ‘n’ me decided to check it out. The iteriors are plush but lack a specific character.

They don’t serve anything a la carte. You have a buffet @ Rs 400.

So what’s the big deal about a buffet? Well, you have a standard fare of rice, dal makhani, penne pasta, sandesh (a Bengali sweet made out of milk and one of the yummiest on earth), soups etc

The puller are the starters. You have 10 starters to choose from, both veg and non-veg. Among the latter, you have decently sized prawns, shrimp cakes, lamb chops in cinnamon, mutton kebabs etc besides the chicken. And you get to grill them withn a sauce of your own choice, right at your table. Yes, there’s a little barbeque pit embedded in the centre of your table. And these starters are unlimited. We had refills of the prawns. The lamb chops were great too. Everything is cooked in olive oil and it’s not greasy in the least.

So, when you want to eat A LOT and don’t mind spending Rs 400 (plus tax) you could head to this place.

It’s deemed to be our very own food chain, that by the way doesn’t serve junk food. I like the feeling of knowing that.

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When life is unfair

The other night, Slug (short for Sulagna) and I dropped in to a handicraft exhibition that is being held in my neighbourhood, as part of the Mumbai festival.

It is always interesting to attend a handicraft/home decor/accessories exhibition with Slug. Her profile as a purchase executive for an upcoming home solutions store needs her to source all of the above from various places across India, the more exotic the better.

So, she knows the exact origins of a miniature Taj Mahal is made or a terracota urn, along with the original prices as well as profit margins. So, I know when I am getting gypped!

Anyways, the main reason for writing about this is that at this particular fair, there was an entry fee of Rs 30. We paid it and entered, and found it rather odd that the place should be deserted. People in Mumbai are ardent shoppers.

We walked around a bit. Neat stuff. I picked up a pink bag with three cats peering out from the front.

Coming back to why the place was deserted. Last year, the stall owners were very happy with the response to the fair and hence decided to come back this time round, too. But Siddharth Kak who’s company Surabhi productions was organising the fair, decided to charge an entry fee. Now if you have say, 4 kids or are a family of 3 or four, paying an entry fee as well as buying stuff could prove heavy on the pockets.

Most of the stall owners, had paid a bomb and had come down from faraway destinations like Pakistan, the north east, Rajasthan etc. Business was so lax, that some of them were in tears. No wonder they sported such forlorn expressions as we entered.

One of the chattier ones, this lady who made chocolates for a living was very verbose on the whole thing. They even had a couple of demonstrations demanding a waiver on the entry fee.

I hope the entry is revoked. Even it if isn’t it’s too late for these stall owners to withdraw from the place, simply because they have already invested a non-refundable amount, which runs into thousands.

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We rocked the boat!

Dancing two nights in a row is a great way to work off any excess flab. 

First Tanvi, Sulagna and myself headed to Hawaiian Shack, post a hard day of work, to have a drink and shake a leg. We suddenly transformed from career ladies to dancing divas.

Next, Sat night saw Meera and myself heading for a boat party, over at The Gateway.

What’s special about a boat party? For one, it’s less stuffy as compared to say a pub. Secondly, sitting up on the upper deck is a romantic experience, even if you aren’t nestled next to that someone special.

Besides, the 10 O’ clock deadline is restricted to land.

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