Showing posts with label MUSIC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label MUSIC. Show all posts
Sunday, February 19, 2023
All You Need Is Liverpool Love
Saturday, May 23, 2020
Two of a Kind
Heavily influenced by the tunes brought in by migrant Indian workers and by rhythms from erstwhile African slaves, the unique music of Trinidad & Tobago could very well be a metaphor for the twin Caribbean islands themselves, where fusion and duality are found everywhere.
By Raul Dias
Never have I been made more aware of the currency of the phrase “Necessity is the mother of invention” than in the twin island nation of Trinidad & Tobago. Carelessly strewn across the shockingly blue waters of the Caribbean Sea like a pair of emerald danglers, Trinidad & Tobago that are part of the Lesser Antilles chain of islands may be a mighty trek to get to from India. But once there, this happy-go-lucky country shows off its ingenuity and adaptability in myriad ways. Most noticeably in its music.
Limein’ and Steelpanin’
Blessed with a unique vocabulary that is a fusion of everything from pidgin English to Bhojpuri and even old Hindustani, one of the favourite words used by the local Trinbagonians is limein’. This is one word that you’re sure to come across in conversation at least once every couple of hours here. Put very simply, limein’ is the art of hanging out just about anywhere with friends or family. All this, with a spot of music thrown in for good measure. Often, the choice of music is either that produced by a steelpan band or a unique hybrid genre called chutney soca.
To start off with the former, as the national musical instrument of Trinidad & Tobago, the steelpan is made from oil drums hammered on one end and divided into grooves and notes. The steelpan also bears the distinction of being the only acoustic musical instrument to be invented in the twentieth century. Panbands were said to have originated when erstwhile African slaves working on the sugar plantations were prohibited from participating in the annual carnival.
So, they came up with their own version that they called canboulay where most of the percussion instruments were crafted out of household utensils and other items like pans, oil drums, and garbage can lids. Today, panbands are a vital part of any Trinbagonian celebration—particularly carnival.
And one of the best ways to get an earful of steelpanin’, is by visiting a local pan yard. One such place is the Crazy Golden Eagles pan yard at the George Street Community Centre in downtown Port of Spain that is the biggest city on the island of Trinidad and the capital of the nation. What this yard basically is, is a sort of community centre where steelpan bands comprising of musicians of all ages—including kids—practice almost every day, honing their skills for their line-up of various performances across the country.
The Desi Connection
Yuh feel this Indian gyal cyah come and wine and wuk she waist
Take over the street make ah bacchanal in the place
Drop it to the ground and sh-sh-shake it all around
Push up on ah speaker beat it like ah Indian drum…
…go the opening lines of ‘Indian Gyal’ (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GmPFOhkDTdI) a monster hit of 2015 by the reigning queen of Trinidad & Tobago’s chutney soca scene—Drupatee Ramgoonai. With its pulsating rhythms and a unique blend of pidgin English and Bhojpuri lyrics set to decidedly East Indian dance tunes brought in by Trinidad & Tobago’s Indian immigrants who started coming here from UP and more particularly Bihar in the mid-1800s, chutney soca is another national obsession of the islands. Particularly in Port of Spain’s raucous nightclubs and during carnival season. Taking on the drumbeats of the typically Caribbean ‘soul of calypso’ aka soca music and merging them with the sounds of tablas, shehnais, dhantals and sitars, is the hybrid Indo-Trinbagonian chutney soca music genre.
And while it may not have been born out of necessity and oppression, just like steelpanin’, chutney soca is very much a twentieth century invention. Late twentieth century to be more precise when pioneers of this musical genre like Lord Shorty gave it form in the early 1970s. However, it was only in 1987 that the term ‘chutney soca’ was itself coined by Drupatee with the release of her debut album simply titled Chutney Soca. Within one year, with the release of her next single ‘roll up de tassa’, this style of music got co-opted by the neighbouring, Indian immigrant-rich South American countries of Suriname and Guyana, where it is still insanely popular.
Interestingly, chutney soca even finds a place for itself in worship in Trinidad & Tobago. The Port of Spain suburb of Carapichaima is home to a gigantic 85-feet tall Hanuman statue that occupies prime position at the saffron-hued Dattatreya Mandir. It is here that locals not just come to pay obeisance to the statue of the Monkey God that is believed to be the largest one outside India, but also to sit down to a rather sonorous chutney soca-style bhajan singing session every evening.
And just when I thought that I’d heard it all, en route back to Port of Spain from Carapichaima, my driver of Indian origin introduced me to the three newest sub genres of chutney soca that he insisted on playing on the car’s stereo. He called them ‘chutney rap’, ‘chutney jhumar’ and ‘chutney lambada’. ‘nuff said!
Travel log
Getting There
As there are no direct flights from India to Trinidad & Tobago, one needs to fly to Port of Spain via New York, Miami or London on airlines like Jet Blue, American Airlines and Caribbean Airlines. Indian nationals do not require a visa to visit Trinidad & Tobago.
Stay
Despite being a relatively small city, accommodation options are abundant in Port of Spain catering to most budgets. Perched up on a small hill that overlooks the city’s iconic Queen’s Park Savannah, the centrally-located Hilton Trinidad & Conference Centre (www3.hilton.com) is a good pick. Here, one can expect to pay around Rs 10,896 for a double room with breakfast. The Hotel Normandie (www.normandiett.com) in St. Ann’s is another great option. The tariff for a doble occupancy room in this 4-star property is Rs 8,911 without breakfast.
Tip
* As a protective haven for the scarlet ibis which is the national bird of Trinidad & Tobago, the Caroni Swamp sanctuary, a little out of Port of Spain, is a great place to commune with nature. A boat tour down the meandering swamp gives you a glimpse, not just of the habitat of the scarlet ibis, but also of snakes, spiders and other inhabitants of this vast ecosystem.
(An edited version of this article first appeared in the 23rd May 2020 issue of The Hindu Business Line newspaper's BLink section on page 20 https://www.thehindubusinessline.com/blink/takeaway/music-of-trinidad-and-tobago/article31648003.ece)
By Raul Dias
Never have I been made more aware of the currency of the phrase “Necessity is the mother of invention” than in the twin island nation of Trinidad & Tobago. Carelessly strewn across the shockingly blue waters of the Caribbean Sea like a pair of emerald danglers, Trinidad & Tobago that are part of the Lesser Antilles chain of islands may be a mighty trek to get to from India. But once there, this happy-go-lucky country shows off its ingenuity and adaptability in myriad ways. Most noticeably in its music.
Limein’ and Steelpanin’
Blessed with a unique vocabulary that is a fusion of everything from pidgin English to Bhojpuri and even old Hindustani, one of the favourite words used by the local Trinbagonians is limein’. This is one word that you’re sure to come across in conversation at least once every couple of hours here. Put very simply, limein’ is the art of hanging out just about anywhere with friends or family. All this, with a spot of music thrown in for good measure. Often, the choice of music is either that produced by a steelpan band or a unique hybrid genre called chutney soca.
To start off with the former, as the national musical instrument of Trinidad & Tobago, the steelpan is made from oil drums hammered on one end and divided into grooves and notes. The steelpan also bears the distinction of being the only acoustic musical instrument to be invented in the twentieth century. Panbands were said to have originated when erstwhile African slaves working on the sugar plantations were prohibited from participating in the annual carnival.
So, they came up with their own version that they called canboulay where most of the percussion instruments were crafted out of household utensils and other items like pans, oil drums, and garbage can lids. Today, panbands are a vital part of any Trinbagonian celebration—particularly carnival.
And one of the best ways to get an earful of steelpanin’, is by visiting a local pan yard. One such place is the Crazy Golden Eagles pan yard at the George Street Community Centre in downtown Port of Spain that is the biggest city on the island of Trinidad and the capital of the nation. What this yard basically is, is a sort of community centre where steelpan bands comprising of musicians of all ages—including kids—practice almost every day, honing their skills for their line-up of various performances across the country.
The Desi Connection
Yuh feel this Indian gyal cyah come and wine and wuk she waist
Take over the street make ah bacchanal in the place
Drop it to the ground and sh-sh-shake it all around
Push up on ah speaker beat it like ah Indian drum…
…go the opening lines of ‘Indian Gyal’ (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GmPFOhkDTdI) a monster hit of 2015 by the reigning queen of Trinidad & Tobago’s chutney soca scene—Drupatee Ramgoonai. With its pulsating rhythms and a unique blend of pidgin English and Bhojpuri lyrics set to decidedly East Indian dance tunes brought in by Trinidad & Tobago’s Indian immigrants who started coming here from UP and more particularly Bihar in the mid-1800s, chutney soca is another national obsession of the islands. Particularly in Port of Spain’s raucous nightclubs and during carnival season. Taking on the drumbeats of the typically Caribbean ‘soul of calypso’ aka soca music and merging them with the sounds of tablas, shehnais, dhantals and sitars, is the hybrid Indo-Trinbagonian chutney soca music genre.
And while it may not have been born out of necessity and oppression, just like steelpanin’, chutney soca is very much a twentieth century invention. Late twentieth century to be more precise when pioneers of this musical genre like Lord Shorty gave it form in the early 1970s. However, it was only in 1987 that the term ‘chutney soca’ was itself coined by Drupatee with the release of her debut album simply titled Chutney Soca. Within one year, with the release of her next single ‘roll up de tassa’, this style of music got co-opted by the neighbouring, Indian immigrant-rich South American countries of Suriname and Guyana, where it is still insanely popular.
Interestingly, chutney soca even finds a place for itself in worship in Trinidad & Tobago. The Port of Spain suburb of Carapichaima is home to a gigantic 85-feet tall Hanuman statue that occupies prime position at the saffron-hued Dattatreya Mandir. It is here that locals not just come to pay obeisance to the statue of the Monkey God that is believed to be the largest one outside India, but also to sit down to a rather sonorous chutney soca-style bhajan singing session every evening.
And just when I thought that I’d heard it all, en route back to Port of Spain from Carapichaima, my driver of Indian origin introduced me to the three newest sub genres of chutney soca that he insisted on playing on the car’s stereo. He called them ‘chutney rap’, ‘chutney jhumar’ and ‘chutney lambada’. ‘nuff said!
Travel log
Getting There
As there are no direct flights from India to Trinidad & Tobago, one needs to fly to Port of Spain via New York, Miami or London on airlines like Jet Blue, American Airlines and Caribbean Airlines. Indian nationals do not require a visa to visit Trinidad & Tobago.
Stay
Despite being a relatively small city, accommodation options are abundant in Port of Spain catering to most budgets. Perched up on a small hill that overlooks the city’s iconic Queen’s Park Savannah, the centrally-located Hilton Trinidad & Conference Centre (www3.hilton.com) is a good pick. Here, one can expect to pay around Rs 10,896 for a double room with breakfast. The Hotel Normandie (www.normandiett.com) in St. Ann’s is another great option. The tariff for a doble occupancy room in this 4-star property is Rs 8,911 without breakfast.
Tip
* As a protective haven for the scarlet ibis which is the national bird of Trinidad & Tobago, the Caroni Swamp sanctuary, a little out of Port of Spain, is a great place to commune with nature. A boat tour down the meandering swamp gives you a glimpse, not just of the habitat of the scarlet ibis, but also of snakes, spiders and other inhabitants of this vast ecosystem.
(An edited version of this article first appeared in the 23rd May 2020 issue of The Hindu Business Line newspaper's BLink section on page 20 https://www.thehindubusinessline.com/blink/takeaway/music-of-trinidad-and-tobago/article31648003.ece)
Friday, January 20, 2017
The Blues—Lisbon Style
By Raul Dias
At home in Mumbai, almost every single halcyon Sunday
of my childhood was spent paying reverential obeisance to a triumvirate of ‘deities’
whose ethereal voices filtered in from the vinyl records, played on the only
working condition Jensen 3-speed stereo turntable in the neighbourhood that had
magically survived the onslaught of the CD player. While Ella Fitzgerald urged
us to ‘Dream a Little Dream’ of her, Egyptian
songstress Umm Kulthum sang to us about her absentee lover with her 1965 ballad
‘Baeed Anak’. But it was always the
third diva who managed to strike a home run straight into my music- and
nostalgia-obsessed father’s heart.
Amália Rodrigues, the legendary Portuguese fadista (female fado performer) always achieved the impossible by bringing a tear or two to the eyes of the otherwise stoic man, as he listened to the velvety timbre hit of those impossibly high notes only she could scale. As the undisputed high priestess of the Portuguese style of signing called fado—characterized by mournful tunes and lyrics, often about the sea and of lost love—she managed to distill Dad’s favourite Portuguese word—saudade, or longing, symbolizing a feeling of loss. A loss of cultural identity that he experienced having being born in pre-1961 liberated Portuguese Goa and living in a city like Mumbai since. A loss he felt with Rodrigues’s passing in 1999, having always wanting to, but never having had the opportunity to see her perform live in Lisbon…
But it was certainly not sheer happenstance or to use that oft-flogged word ‘serendipity’ that found me in Lisbon one sunny June afternoon waiting under the triumphal, marble Rua Augusta Arch on the Praça do Comércio for my Fado Walking Tour to commence. Almost exactly six months to the day of Dad’s own passing late last year, I had boarded a flight from Zurich, Switzerland to Lisbon with the mission of partaking in all things fado in this short, one-day tributary trip that was beginning to get tinged by a certain shade of melancholia thanks to the many reminders of Dad’s favourite things—from the old Portuguese architectural style to the deep-fried cod fish cakes called pastéis de bacalhau.
Having pre-booked my spot on this three-hour walking tour earlier online, I clutched my 30 euro receipt print out, thrusting it under the nose of the guide as he ticked my name off his list. Accompanying our motely group of 10 tourists, besides the guide who called himself Pedro, was a fadista named Maria de Barboza whom we were told would give impromptu fado performances as the tour progressed along Lisbon’s famed alleys and public squares—each a vestige of a bygone era.
Recently elected as a Heritage of Humanity by UNESCO, fado and its history continue to be an important part of everyday life, we were told as we took in the splendour of the Praça do Rossio square. It is from here that central Lisbon was rebuilt and laid out in a grid-like pattern after the 1755 earthquake destroyed part of the city. Today, the square — once the setting of popular revolts and celebrations, bullfights and executions — is a place that sees both organized fado performances in summer and impromptu ones like the one that Maria had begun to put on for us as she belted out Rodrigues’s 1945 single ‘Mouraria’—a lilting ballad that I was familiar with.
A little further away, the hip and trendy Chiado area is generally the best place for some shopping and people watching as you catch the world go by near the statue of 16th century epic poet Luis de Camões at Camões Square. But that day, it was where Pedro chose to give us a lesson in the basics of fado. As it so happens, the etymology of the word fado has its underpinnings in the Latin word fatum, from which the English word ‘fate’ also stems forth. He also had us know that there are two types of fado, one found in Lisbon, one in Coimbra. The style heard in Lisbon is the most popular, while in Coimbra, it is a more classic style. And to illustrate his point, he had Maria demonstrate the difference, that, even to a tone-deaf person, appeared apparent.
Our next stop was at the Museu do Fado or the Fado Museum in the neighbourhood of Largo do Chafariz de Dentro. Set up only in 1998, the museum is a fascinating place to get a more hands on insight into the world of fado with its well-maintained permanent exhibits and collections of musical instruments like the tear drop-shaped Portuguese guitarra (guitar), the four string Portuguese version of the acoustic bass guitar developed in the 1960s called viola baixo and ornate costumes worn by fadistas for their performances.
It was here that I learnt more about Sonia Shirsat, a Goan fadista who is currently considered one of the top performers in the world of fado and regarded as “the ambassador of Goan music to the world”. Generally, a rather insular world, I was told by Pedro later, Shirsat has managed to kick open the door to non-Portuguese fado performers of her milieu with her sheer, transcendent talent and mellifluous voice.
Our final pit stop of the evening was at the famed Clube do Fado in the historic Alfama area that I was told by my Portuguese friends undeniably offers the best live performances of fado in Lisbon, nay Portugal even! This club located a short distance away from the Sé de Lisboa (Lisbon Cathedral), is kitted out with solid stone walls, columns, arches and a huge ogival ceiling. And it was here, over a couple of glasses of ruby-red port wine, unending bowls of the green caldo verde soup and a platter of spicy barbecued chouriço sausage, that we took in the spellbinding performances of the club’s resident performers like Christina Madeira, Diogo Clemente and Isabel Figueiredo.
As I was leaving, a waiter drew my attention to what has come to be known as the club’s most unique feature—the Moorish Well in the middle of the dining hall—that abounds with legends related to its ‘wish-granting’ abilities. But having already had my most immediate wish of immersing myself in all things fado granted, I had no apparent need for it. And so, I slunk into inky black night with the new-found knowledge that melancholia isn’t that bad after all!
Amália Rodrigues, the legendary Portuguese fadista (female fado performer) always achieved the impossible by bringing a tear or two to the eyes of the otherwise stoic man, as he listened to the velvety timbre hit of those impossibly high notes only she could scale. As the undisputed high priestess of the Portuguese style of signing called fado—characterized by mournful tunes and lyrics, often about the sea and of lost love—she managed to distill Dad’s favourite Portuguese word—saudade, or longing, symbolizing a feeling of loss. A loss of cultural identity that he experienced having being born in pre-1961 liberated Portuguese Goa and living in a city like Mumbai since. A loss he felt with Rodrigues’s passing in 1999, having always wanting to, but never having had the opportunity to see her perform live in Lisbon…
But it was certainly not sheer happenstance or to use that oft-flogged word ‘serendipity’ that found me in Lisbon one sunny June afternoon waiting under the triumphal, marble Rua Augusta Arch on the Praça do Comércio for my Fado Walking Tour to commence. Almost exactly six months to the day of Dad’s own passing late last year, I had boarded a flight from Zurich, Switzerland to Lisbon with the mission of partaking in all things fado in this short, one-day tributary trip that was beginning to get tinged by a certain shade of melancholia thanks to the many reminders of Dad’s favourite things—from the old Portuguese architectural style to the deep-fried cod fish cakes called pastéis de bacalhau.
Having pre-booked my spot on this three-hour walking tour earlier online, I clutched my 30 euro receipt print out, thrusting it under the nose of the guide as he ticked my name off his list. Accompanying our motely group of 10 tourists, besides the guide who called himself Pedro, was a fadista named Maria de Barboza whom we were told would give impromptu fado performances as the tour progressed along Lisbon’s famed alleys and public squares—each a vestige of a bygone era.
Recently elected as a Heritage of Humanity by UNESCO, fado and its history continue to be an important part of everyday life, we were told as we took in the splendour of the Praça do Rossio square. It is from here that central Lisbon was rebuilt and laid out in a grid-like pattern after the 1755 earthquake destroyed part of the city. Today, the square — once the setting of popular revolts and celebrations, bullfights and executions — is a place that sees both organized fado performances in summer and impromptu ones like the one that Maria had begun to put on for us as she belted out Rodrigues’s 1945 single ‘Mouraria’—a lilting ballad that I was familiar with.
A little further away, the hip and trendy Chiado area is generally the best place for some shopping and people watching as you catch the world go by near the statue of 16th century epic poet Luis de Camões at Camões Square. But that day, it was where Pedro chose to give us a lesson in the basics of fado. As it so happens, the etymology of the word fado has its underpinnings in the Latin word fatum, from which the English word ‘fate’ also stems forth. He also had us know that there are two types of fado, one found in Lisbon, one in Coimbra. The style heard in Lisbon is the most popular, while in Coimbra, it is a more classic style. And to illustrate his point, he had Maria demonstrate the difference, that, even to a tone-deaf person, appeared apparent.
Our next stop was at the Museu do Fado or the Fado Museum in the neighbourhood of Largo do Chafariz de Dentro. Set up only in 1998, the museum is a fascinating place to get a more hands on insight into the world of fado with its well-maintained permanent exhibits and collections of musical instruments like the tear drop-shaped Portuguese guitarra (guitar), the four string Portuguese version of the acoustic bass guitar developed in the 1960s called viola baixo and ornate costumes worn by fadistas for their performances.
It was here that I learnt more about Sonia Shirsat, a Goan fadista who is currently considered one of the top performers in the world of fado and regarded as “the ambassador of Goan music to the world”. Generally, a rather insular world, I was told by Pedro later, Shirsat has managed to kick open the door to non-Portuguese fado performers of her milieu with her sheer, transcendent talent and mellifluous voice.
Our final pit stop of the evening was at the famed Clube do Fado in the historic Alfama area that I was told by my Portuguese friends undeniably offers the best live performances of fado in Lisbon, nay Portugal even! This club located a short distance away from the Sé de Lisboa (Lisbon Cathedral), is kitted out with solid stone walls, columns, arches and a huge ogival ceiling. And it was here, over a couple of glasses of ruby-red port wine, unending bowls of the green caldo verde soup and a platter of spicy barbecued chouriço sausage, that we took in the spellbinding performances of the club’s resident performers like Christina Madeira, Diogo Clemente and Isabel Figueiredo.
As I was leaving, a waiter drew my attention to what has come to be known as the club’s most unique feature—the Moorish Well in the middle of the dining hall—that abounds with legends related to its ‘wish-granting’ abilities. But having already had my most immediate wish of immersing myself in all things fado granted, I had no apparent need for it. And so, I slunk into inky black night with the new-found knowledge that melancholia isn’t that bad after all!
(A shorter, edited version of this article appeared in the 4th December 2016 issue of The Hindu newspaper, India http://www.thehindu.com/life-and-style/travel/The-feel-of-fado/article16754673.ece)
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