Between guests, extended lunches and Mom’s updates about almost everything, I tried watching the Independence Day specials. Thank God for 60-odd channels, I made easy viewing decisions, like surfing over crap like the mind-numbingly boring pattimandram filled with Solomon Paapiah’s unfunny interruptions/observations.
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Frankfurt Aiport - Pales in comparison to Miami. Atleast the ceilings, which are really bent shutters put there after a rather fruitful yard sale in the Frankfurt factory district.
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Washington-Dulles airport is like one long-ass stationary treadmill. I trudged 18.3 miles to get to Concourse C from where my Lufthansa flight to Frankurt departs. Gate C02, it said on my boarding pass. Like Carbon Dioxide, I thought, foolishly proud that I still remembered ChemistryOne-o-One 101. Sitting here now, trying hard to breathe in O2, I realize that it could be some kind of sordid message that the Lufthansians are trying to send. Or it could just be that the lack of oxygen in my system is bringing out the paranoia. Bottomline: Like some famous weakling once said, I have the lung capacity of a 1 year old.
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True. I wrote all this fighting turbulence on 747s or slouched in ass-numbing airport seats, so if I sound incoherent and generally boring, please do not attribute it to above reasons.
As exemplified by more than a dozen blogs, TOI’s downward spiral into the pits of journalism hell continues. Here is another example.
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Listening to Main Vari Vari from Mangal Pandey, I could not help but think how different the song would sound without that prominent bass (fretless I think) accompaniment, which incidentally is beautiful and employed as only Rahman can. Without the bass, it becomes a more ordinary, though still catchy tune. But then, a catchy tune doesn’t set you apart, does it? So Rahman stamps his authority and adds color to the song with the bass and all those lush string pads that remain the foundation for most of his songs.
But all this in a period film?
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Anniyan did not find Harris Jayaraj at his creative best, as one would normally expect for a Shankar movie (maybe many don’t care anymore considering the actual movie challenged their sanity). One aspect missing from some of the songs, I thought, were solid intros, an art form that Rahman & Raja are masters of. And now we have another Harris Jayaraj album called Thotti Jaya, featuring Chimpu & his swooshing finger(s). My laziness quotient has exponentially increased over the past coupla months, so a detailed blade analysis (to use a Bosey term) of the album might not happen.
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