R.A. Ramamani (singer) T.A.S. Mani, Karthik Subramaniam, Ramesh Shotham (all on percussion), perform compositions by Ramamani, Louis Banks, Charlie Mariano and Mike Herting with Germany’s Federal Youth Jazz Orchestra (BuJazzO)

Tonight featured what BuJazzO (see above) Director Mike Herting deemed “New Music.” While this coinage might sound bland and nondescript, I really dig it. In explaining the mesh between German jazz and Carnatic classical, Herting specifically warded off any association with “fusion.” What the hell is fusion anymore? It’s a term I’ve been consciously writing out of my own musical vocabulary. It’s not fusion, said Herting. It’s simply an attempt to create a new sound by mixing together the strengths and beauties, sounds and rhythms of two different cultures and music forms. It’s new music. That’s it. Eventually, if we keep doing this, we arrive at some kind of global music, a sonic language that everyone might identify with. Or, I guess globalization in the context of music. Hopefully not too many jobs are lost…

One highlight for me was hearing Louie Banks’ composition “City Life” performed. In my jams with the Banks’ I had a glimpse at the lead sheet for “City Life” that Mike Herting creatively arranged for the above large ensemble. Herting also pieced together some beautiful arrangements of Charlie Mariano’s work, melodically my favorite of the whole concert.

The previous night featured a different cocktail of music and culture at the Blue Frog: Sweden (flute), India (tabla, violin) and the Middle East (oud). Awesome show! I can now easily judge when these mixes are done well, and when they aren’t. These last two nights have been well done. It’s all how the instruments come together… if the highlight of the show is when an individual is playing, then the group is failing. If there is excellent communication and creative use of the group’s unique instrumentation, then, as Borat would say, a great success. I swear I’ll upload sound bites when I leave India… internet is just too slow here.

I head to Delhi tomorrow to rehearse for a gig happening Sunday in Gurgaon, Maryana. Afterward, I’ll be hanging with musicians in Delhi and just treating my eyes and stomach a bit. I’ll be back in 9 or 10 days with much more to share…

Part Two: Human Tetris

Upon request, I’ve written a short piece on a recent experience I had riding the city train in Mumbai. The above title comes from… you guessed it… a Japanese game show. Check it out on Youtube.

Catching the doorway breeze on a train ride in Bombay.


On this particular day, I decided not to sit. Two months of riding the city trains in Bombay and I had myself convinced I was a champ. Claustrophobia has nothing on me! I now find myself instinctively catching moving trains without thinking twice. God forbid I wait six long minutes for the next ride. I even prefer the natural, rushing air that breezes by the train doorway instead of the built-in overhead fans.

 

So, as the “fast” train glided out of Churchgate Station in South Bombay, bound for Borivoli to the north, I opted to stand halfway out of the train doorway rather than sit in one of the abundant, but ever so temporarily available seats. Whoops!

 

A “fast” train is fast because it skips many of the smaller, less-used train stations. This may sound good and all, but it conversely means that it only stops at the most-used and populated train stations. Compounding this with an immensely over populated city and you begin to realize a potential.

 

But, hey, I thought I’d traveled at peak rush hour before and seen the worst of it. 9 PM on a Thursday can’t be too bad by comparison. Well… I quickly found that 9 PM on a Thursday is indeed rush hour. It’s in fact a bigger rush hour than 6 PM, 5PM, 2 PM and all the other rush hours (AM and PM) for that matter. The second-class, six-rupee train cars are generally packed at all reasonable hours. But on this day, at this rush hour, the train was completely packed by Mumbai Central. Not a good sign. And by full, I mean bursting. Maybe a few more can, and definitely will squeeze in.

 

A side note: boarding trains in Bombay is a complete free for all. People are always respectful, polite, and decent to each other before and after, but never in between. It’s simply remarkable how quickly a passive pack of people transforms into a ruthless mob and back to passive again. It’s a sight to see. As we left Mumbai Central, people were already pushing and shoving one another just to get a spot to stand. I’ll note that at this point, I have been pushed far from my breezy post at the train doorway and am completely immobilized.

Dadar… this begins to capture the scene. Again, not my photo.

“Abla Station… Dadar,” recites the familiar, pleasant sounding Indian female voice over the train speakers. Said with such enthusiasm… this chick has probably never ridden a train here. And I’d bet my Watson stipend that she’s never stopped at Dadar, the busiest station on the Western Line, it’s merging point with the Central Line. Her pleasant voice was forecasting the biggest un-pleasantry of my Bombay-train-riding career.

 

As we sped on, I prepared myself mentally and physically. Inevitably turning to realism, my only hope was that I was packed on the correct side of the train so I might swiftly exit at Bandra Station (I wasn’t). The train slowed. Through the congealed mass of heads, bodies and backpacks, I caught a glimpse of the scene outside. I honestly couldn’t see the difference… I’ll just assume Dadar station was slightly less dense outside the train. My concern immediately turned from my physical wellbeing to the babe suffocating at my side. Yes, my horn was with me, as it always is. Please don’t bend!

 

The train stops. A marginal few people exit. I’m inclined to believe that for this smart minority, Dadar is not their stop. The thought of a premature exit crosses my mind, but this is not in the cards. I am too physically invested in this train, and not by choice. The Dadar mob immediately begins clashing with the Borivoli train mob. It is clear from the start who is going to prevail… the Borivoli train mob simply has the higher ground. Still, I watch as people of the Dadar mob sprint at train doorway like battering rams on a gate, grabbing at anything, a pole, a handle, or a person with hopes of clinging to the side of the train.

 

As the train lurches forward, I catch a couple locals grinning at me. Look at this poor gora, they seem to say. I grin back. This is awesome in such a crazy way.