Amit Saigal had a knack for snazzy. One of the most memorable gigs that I’ve ever attended was on a small dinghy that took sail at the Gateway of India. This was back in 2004 when Amit decided that the Great Indian Rock qualifiers deserved a shot of fun at sea, and organised the ride. Zero was among the bands that performed and wowed the small crowd of journalists and enthusiastic rock fans with their originals and a boisterous cover of La Bamba. This was the first time that I also watched bassist Shri from UK build up a frenzy with a lone, self-made bass guitar. We got on the boat in the afternoon and by the time the bands were done in the evening, we had all been lulled into a stupor by the waves that gently rocked the boat. Amit also made sure we had enough booze or Breezers, if you preferred, to help us remain in the state of inertia. When I reminded him about the gig four years later, he broke into one of his full-bellied laughs and nodded in pride.
By 2008, GIR, that Amit kickstarted, was in its 11th year. Amit had also kicked off the Pub Rock Fest across the country. It was around this time that Amit wanted to revamp Rock Street Journal, the music magazine that he founded and went onto to gain cult status. “I’m looking for writers,” said Amit when I met him next at the c/o pop electronica festival in Cologne. You’d think Amit would turn up his nose at electronica considering that half the world and its prudes were quick to dismiss it as soulless music. Watching the man let his hair down to German electronica acts such as Supermayer made you want to jump in and join the party too. His enthusiasm was infectious.
I remember the stand that Amit took concerning a particularly gregarious artist, who was also part of the group that travelled to Germany for the c/o pop festival. Almost everyone was ready to gag him the next time he bragged about his musical skills or decided to do an impromptu jam mutilating a perfectly harmonious performance with his appalling string-playing abilities. Amit was the only one to speak up in his defense: “Hey you got to give it to the guy for being enthusiastic.” It was refreshing to meet an older journalist who wasn’t cynical, and this instantly made him more inspiring.
Something else that Amit said during the festival stayed with me. At a gay club named Gloria, DAF, who were considered to be the heroes of German punk, were putting up what seemed like a great show. All their songs were in German, and we only understood snatches of their biggest hit titled “Der Mussolini”. Amit wasn’t too impressed. He went onto to tell me that punk relied on the power of the word and the point was lost because he didn’t understand the lyrics. But he didn’t walk out. It would take (or this is what I believe) a completely dismal performance for the man to walk out on a show.
When Amit was asked to be a part of the panel at c/o pop, which involved him introducing the music scene in India, he made us all proud. Of course, there was no chest beating and waxing about his contribution to the music industry. He was too cool for that. Amit’s role in the Indian indie industry and Indian music journalism was no small one. It was thrilling to get my hands on RSJ when I was in school. Award winning gonzo journalism it was not, but it had enough kick to get me excited about music even before I knew I’d be writing about it. The Saigal House in Allahabad, where Amit is from and where he kicked off RSJ, is part of rocklore now. “It was always an open house,” said Amit.
Thank you Amit for leading the way.
Friday, January 6, 2012
Saturday, December 3, 2011
The Situation
There’s possibly nothing I hate more than missing gigs. Raghu Dixit is performing on the lawns of Mehboob Studio as I type this. I printed out my pass early this week and was all set to go. Today, I’m down with a bad back. Excruciating pain. Friends have asked me not to whine, so I thought it’s best I made good on my threat to blog.
I first heard The Raghu Dixit Project from Bangalore at the Big Chill festival held in Goa in 2007. Sunday MiD DAY, the paper I worked for then didn’t need a piece on the festival, which was a bummer. At the risk of being broke the rest of the month, I booked a train ticket and showed up in Goa without a clue where I would stay or how the festival would pan out. There had been a buzz that the Shiv Sena, the state’s most-loved political party, would bust the festival and bring it to a close mid-way.
I hadn’t heard of the Big Chill until 2007. A wiki entry informed that it was a camping festival held on the sprawling grounds of Eastnor Castle. Pete Lawrence, its founder featured in several Indian media interviews and promised the best international festival that India had ever seen. I banked on the fact that Vijay Nair and Bobby Talwar of Only Much Louder were involved and would show us a good time. When I walked to the festival site with my bags, I didn’t regret my impulsive decision to show up. The April heat was scorching and it was almost as if we were mocking the word “chill”. The sea looked like a massive silver blanket and I was transfixed despite the glare. Streamers in all colours had transformed the festival site into a happy, hippie rainbow.
Big Chill Goa photos from flickr.com/photos/mewstoday
Dixit’s set was in the afternoon. The crowd, which was mostly made up of foreign tourists in minimal clothing, had settled onto their straw mats, sold by the Chai Bais at the venue, for their afternoon siesta. But Dixit wouldn’t leave them to their faces-almost-buried-into-the-sand snooze. The beach bums dusted the sand off their backs and didn’t sit down until Dixit and his band of lungi-clad folk rockers stepped off stage.
I finally filed a piece for my paper and was happy to report that the Shiv Sena failed to shut down the festival. This was the first and the last time (unless Only Much Louder has other plans) the Big Chill was held in the country, so I was glad I could be there.
Less than a year later, it wasn’t easy to convince my editor at Rolling Stone India that we had a star in Dixit. It was too soon. Luckily, the Raghu Dixit Project performed at the SAARC festival in Delhi, and rave reviews made it to my office. Dixit made it to the launch issue.
Earlier this year, when I was freelancing, it didn’t surprise me that I had to make a really strong pitch to write about the Raghu Dixit Project all over again. Audiences in India needed a vehicle to transport them right into the middle of the madness – a TV show or a channel was yet to tap the potential of the thriving indie music scene. My editor showed faith. TRDP was making a slow, but strong headway on the international front and was convinced that it was the best time to write about him.
Here's a bit that didn't make it to the Forbes piece. A lot of research went into the piece (including a 3 am phone interview with Martin Elbourne, who was in LA or some cruel timezone then) and this was the first time that I used Facebook to find a fan. I was thrilled when she actually mailed me back.
IN 2010, 58-year-old Catherine Baker, a teacher at the INTO University of East Anglia in UK "felt like a teenager at her first concert". The headrush was not via a stadium packed with a high-adrenalin audience but in her living room, in front of the good old TV. She had tuned into Later With Jools Holland, a highly rated musical show in the UK, which has featured the biggest bands including Red Hot Chilli Peppers and edgy indie acts such as Warpaint.
Baker first saw Dixit on the Jools Holland show. “What always gets me first about music is a good rhythm and then a fantastic, strong voice with something to say. Obviously, if Raghu hadn't chosen to sing 'No man will ever love you like I do', the something to say would not have come into play, as I know nothing of the languages of the Indian sub-continent." said Baker. "But the rhythm, voice and presence were very powerful and I was hooked as I haven't been since I was a teenager (Elton John!)." TRDP's Twitter and FB presence was also encouraging, added Baker. "I can keep up with them from such a distance. They are very kind in replying to fans' posts and that personal contact does make a difference." Baker, who is also a linguist has been attempting to sing TRDP's Hindi and Kannada songs. "They're all very musical and at the same time they're songs that I dance to. The amazing rhythms, which seem to have something from many types of traditional music - Flamenco, Celtic, Mexican - as well as the Indian roots and the jazz etc."
I'll catch TRDP soon enough. Next week.
I first heard The Raghu Dixit Project from Bangalore at the Big Chill festival held in Goa in 2007. Sunday MiD DAY, the paper I worked for then didn’t need a piece on the festival, which was a bummer. At the risk of being broke the rest of the month, I booked a train ticket and showed up in Goa without a clue where I would stay or how the festival would pan out. There had been a buzz that the Shiv Sena, the state’s most-loved political party, would bust the festival and bring it to a close mid-way.
I hadn’t heard of the Big Chill until 2007. A wiki entry informed that it was a camping festival held on the sprawling grounds of Eastnor Castle. Pete Lawrence, its founder featured in several Indian media interviews and promised the best international festival that India had ever seen. I banked on the fact that Vijay Nair and Bobby Talwar of Only Much Louder were involved and would show us a good time. When I walked to the festival site with my bags, I didn’t regret my impulsive decision to show up. The April heat was scorching and it was almost as if we were mocking the word “chill”. The sea looked like a massive silver blanket and I was transfixed despite the glare. Streamers in all colours had transformed the festival site into a happy, hippie rainbow.
Big Chill Goa photos from flickr.com/photos/mewstoday
Dixit’s set was in the afternoon. The crowd, which was mostly made up of foreign tourists in minimal clothing, had settled onto their straw mats, sold by the Chai Bais at the venue, for their afternoon siesta. But Dixit wouldn’t leave them to their faces-almost-buried-into-the-sand snooze. The beach bums dusted the sand off their backs and didn’t sit down until Dixit and his band of lungi-clad folk rockers stepped off stage.
I finally filed a piece for my paper and was happy to report that the Shiv Sena failed to shut down the festival. This was the first and the last time (unless Only Much Louder has other plans) the Big Chill was held in the country, so I was glad I could be there.
Less than a year later, it wasn’t easy to convince my editor at Rolling Stone India that we had a star in Dixit. It was too soon. Luckily, the Raghu Dixit Project performed at the SAARC festival in Delhi, and rave reviews made it to my office. Dixit made it to the launch issue.
Earlier this year, when I was freelancing, it didn’t surprise me that I had to make a really strong pitch to write about the Raghu Dixit Project all over again. Audiences in India needed a vehicle to transport them right into the middle of the madness – a TV show or a channel was yet to tap the potential of the thriving indie music scene. My editor showed faith. TRDP was making a slow, but strong headway on the international front and was convinced that it was the best time to write about him.
Here's a bit that didn't make it to the Forbes piece. A lot of research went into the piece (including a 3 am phone interview with Martin Elbourne, who was in LA or some cruel timezone then) and this was the first time that I used Facebook to find a fan. I was thrilled when she actually mailed me back.
IN 2010, 58-year-old Catherine Baker, a teacher at the INTO University of East Anglia in UK "felt like a teenager at her first concert". The headrush was not via a stadium packed with a high-adrenalin audience but in her living room, in front of the good old TV. She had tuned into Later With Jools Holland, a highly rated musical show in the UK, which has featured the biggest bands including Red Hot Chilli Peppers and edgy indie acts such as Warpaint.
Baker first saw Dixit on the Jools Holland show. “What always gets me first about music is a good rhythm and then a fantastic, strong voice with something to say. Obviously, if Raghu hadn't chosen to sing 'No man will ever love you like I do', the something to say would not have come into play, as I know nothing of the languages of the Indian sub-continent." said Baker. "But the rhythm, voice and presence were very powerful and I was hooked as I haven't been since I was a teenager (Elton John!)." TRDP's Twitter and FB presence was also encouraging, added Baker. "I can keep up with them from such a distance. They are very kind in replying to fans' posts and that personal contact does make a difference." Baker, who is also a linguist has been attempting to sing TRDP's Hindi and Kannada songs. "They're all very musical and at the same time they're songs that I dance to. The amazing rhythms, which seem to have something from many types of traditional music - Flamenco, Celtic, Mexican - as well as the Indian roots and the jazz etc."
I'll catch TRDP soon enough. Next week.
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