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Old-School Music Snobbery

(Warning, fact-free reminiscences, no policy, science or anything resembling analysis, possibly of interest only to my indulgent friends)

Obscure knowledge was once a kind of currency. To get it, you had to be in the loop. You had to know the right people to learn about the right bands. You had to know the right record stores to hear those bands.

via Why the Old-School Music Snob Is the Least Cool Kid on Twitter – NYTimes.com.

This article took me back to my 15 year old self. I grew up in pre-cable, pre-“liberalized” India where access to “Western” popular music was very limited, and class and income segregated. The top 40 stuff of the time was available as cassette tapes. Finding albums was almost impossible, most of the time, you got “Now this is what I call music” type compilations. The music popular and available as LPs was a mix of big names like The Beatles, ABBA,  and an eclectic mix of  Boney M, Osibisa, The Ventures, Uriah Heep? (don’t even ask). The popularity of these more off-the-wall choices was probably linked to their willingness to tour India and bring their records.

My mom was a huge Beatles and Cliff Richard fan growing up, catching it on Indian and Sri Lankan radio in the early to mid 1960s. As I cast my mind back to my parents’ collection, I see a bunch of Beatles LPs (The Red, Blue and Rock’n’Roll Double LP compilations), some ABBA, Boney M, Uriah Heep, The Ventures 🙂 I didn’t have money to buy my own, and we didn’t really have too much money to spend on records anyway.

Which brings me to 15, my music tastes have stagnated, I’m occasionally listening to random mixes of music, done with ABBA, still liking the Beatles (I still like the Beatles!), but need more. Where can I find music that will move me? Well, there’s no internet, and no radio/TV playing anything other than Top 40 stuff (very rarely) or the Beatles. I don’t have rich relatives in the US to send me music either. In hindsight, I guess I could have tried short wave radio (which we definitely used a lot for sports), but how do you know what’s cool?

I was “rescued” by a friend, with whom I listened to a very scratchy recording one day. This friend was lucky enough to have an older brother who had access to music. The first minute of Black Dog changed my life! I “discovered” Led Zeppelin in 1988(9), and all the usual suspects soon after. I can’t even begin to express how I felt the first time I heard Bohemian Rhapsody. I know, right, what a lot of my friends from when I was older and living in the US and Canada  think of as the most clichéd over-exposed, un-cool songs set the cool kids of Madras apart from the rest.

Finding full albums of music of decent audio quality was another matter. We soon heard through word of mouth (probably the brother) of this magical small store in Anna Nagar, on the other side of the city. So, we took the bus out one day. Anna Nagar was a gridded sub-division, which for some reason confused people like me who lived in older parts of the city. We had an address, which led us to a house on a mundanely residential street, with a small sign board for the “shop”, only open evenings. We walk in, and, magic, it was many rows of LPs stacked and arranged alphabetically by band. You told the guy at the store what albums you wanted, gave him blank cassettes and money, and a week later (a long week later), you went back and picked up your magical tape. A 90 minute cassette could fit two albums, of course, so I always associate Led Zeppelin II with The Best of Cream (back to back).

Wow, clear LP transfers of music, I still remember all those little discoveries like the bass pedal response of Mitch Mitchell to Jimi Hendrix’s Purple Haze riff, and scratching “Excuse me, while I kiss the sky” on every desk I sat in for a couple of years.

I was also part of a crack school quiz team at a time when these quizzes were basically wank fests for people like us. We got quiz “masters” asking us obscure music trivia and playing songs from the 60s and 70s for us to identify and win the quiz shows. Looking back, our smug superiority was probably unwarranted 🙂 This period was the peak of musical snobbery, limited access meet obscure knowledge! I hoarded, I judged, I laughed at people who listened to the wrong music, not a very nice 19 year old at all. We had no internet, but I had “discovered” that libraries were a great source of music books and my obscure minutiae quotient was off the charts. That strange intersection of my “discovery” of music and its scarcity was a magical and intense place.

Things changed. MTV hit India in 1993, and grunge showed up in Madras at about the same time it took  over the US. I could also hit up my US based sister for music, band shirts, merch. Stores started bringing tapes in (and CDs, though those were some shiny unaffordable jewels). But there was still that class-based division, and access was limited, though every year made the music more accessible.

Moving to North Carolina hipster heaven brought the rather unwelcome news that classic rock (oh, so my music has a genre?) was associated with middle aged white folk, and as uncool as it got. Oh well, it didn’t stop me from listening, but parties became a bit less fun. My music tastes expanded into the roots of all that rock, into blues, jazz, and funk.

As I understood the politics of appropriation and where all that music really came from, my attitudes changed, and I listen less. But those riffs still have a direct connection to a very emotional part of my brain. I will always be that uncool kid who knows every Jimmy Page solo in my head even as I cringe at the misogyny and racism of the lyrics and laugh at the bombast and obvious masculine posturing.

I am very glad that the internet has mostly erased the boundaries. The ability to listen to a song just by searching for it is life-changing. Yes, people will still judge, but it is harder and harder to hoard, and use scarcity as a filter. I love it. My relationship with the music has not changed. When I hear something I like, it is still such an intense emotional experience, especially when it links back to memories, the people I first heard it with, the things I did when the music was playing in the background, it’s lovely.

To end, another quote from the article…

Populism is the new model of cool; elitists, rather than teeny-boppers or bandwagon-jumpers, are the new squares. There are now artists who sell out concerts while rarely getting played on commercial radio

 

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    Got 45.765 Liters or 12.089 gallons to go 400 miles on my first full tank in Victoria, which works out to 33 mpg, which is about 10% better than anything my car (admittedly not a terribly fuel efficient small car) has ever done. Why? Top speed on my commute’s 90kmph (or 55 mph), and that’s only for 7 km. The first 10-15 minutes is stop and go at 50 kmph which doesn’t do much for gas, but the rest is either 80 or 90 kmph, which is about the most optimum speed for maximizing fuel efficiency.

    Take home message if it hasn’t been proven a million times already, lowering speed most definitely improves fuel efficiency!

    I guess that makes up for the slowish commute. C’mon city of Victoria, get a fast bus across at 7:30 AM, not 7 so I don’t have to wake up at an ungodly hour to take it!

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  • Float On

     

    All refrains "float on", except the 9th one, which is "even if things end up"
    All refrains “float on”, except the 9th one, which is “even if things end up”

    Sometimes, learning lyrics is hard, and making a table out of it seems to help (disclaimer: I do not use pie charts for anything serious)

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    We’ll all float on Up All right, already
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    (Direction refers to whether float is higher in pitch than all, or lower)

  • Victoria, 7 Days Later

    Well, it’s been an interesting and full week in Beautiful BC (the other BBC), I found a home:

    It has a nice view from the window

    and a not so nice view from the same window, which I shall not post because it gives away my location, you’re either going to have to email me or, god forbid, visit!
     
    And it is in close proximity (5 minute walk) to the wonderful Beacon Hill Park.

    Once the weather gets better (Yes Virginia, long “rant” about the weather’s just up ahead, keep reading!), I look forward to running from home through Beacon Hill Park to the gorgeous seashore on Dallas Road, about a kilometer away (yes, I’ve gone metric).

    Not the greatest of photos, but it was rainy and foggy. Yes, you can’t really escape nature in this part of the world, even though Victoria’s dense and urban for its size, you turn the corner and suddenly, you’re in a park or on a waterfront.

    The weather, well, it’s crazy. Last Tuesday, or Wednesday, I can’t remember, I was at my local Y taking a tour before joining the gym and it was sunny when I entered, my gym guide points the sky out to me 15 minutes later from the 2nd floor of the gym (nice scenic view of beautiful church grounds from the treadmills, BTW) and lo and behold, hail! Apparently, every few years or so, one gets bad weather from Russia, damn them. But, he did say that if you don’t like the weather, just wait 15 minutes, and there it was, sunshine again. I step out after joining the gym and walk back to my funky inn, it starts raining, oh well, it rained 5 minutes then the sun came out, then 5 minutes later, sleet. It did not rain frogs, or cats or dogs, so I did not see everything, but still, way too much weather action in an hour. It is not warm yet, but it is not terribly cold either, always hovers above or around freezing at night, and gets warmer up to 8 degrees (45) in the day time. I am told that it will get warmer soon. Really does not matter, though, it’s still very nice and the people here pretend that the weather does not exist, so I am going to be one with the locals!

    In other good news, I found an excellent video store, Pic-a-Flic which is in Cook Street Village, just around the corner (literally) from where I live, nice little neighborhood, lots of “character”, which is sometimes problematic! I haven’t really hung out yet, except to go to a couple of bars and to watch Carolina games and the heartbreaking Davidson-Kansas game (why did the coach make the star of the team and its best shooter also bring the ball up the floor on the last play and make him create his own shot instead of setting up a play where he came off a screen to catch and shoot, his forte, I will never understand) at the Oak Bay Recreation Centre with a fellow Tarheel fan (born and brought up in Victoria!). I just happened to run into him in the bar of the inn I was at for a week and I happened to mention where I was from, he nearly jumped out of his skin! So, I guess that baby blue blood helps once in a while! GO HEELS!

    And yes, I started work as well, promises to be interesting, though it is a 35 minute commute, which is what you get for living in a cool neighborhood 🙂

    First impressions, well, it’s all very exciting and new, but I have the depressing habit of getting my routines going quickly, so I go to work, go to the gym, eat dinner, read blogs/novels/surf for a while, and the day’s done, so what’s changed? The drive to work’s much more scenic, the walk to the gym is much nicer, the country’s language, rhetoric, radio, everything is so much more in line with my values (CBC Vancouver occasionally makes NPR sound like Rush Limbaugh, I kid you not!). There are tons of organic markets, farmers’ markets (summer only), the produce is generally cheap, though packaged goods are expensive, Michael Pollan would approve!

    Victoria has its warts, there are burgeoning drug and homelessness issues that seem to be driven by income inequality and lack of affordable housing. The climate also attracts people seeking shelter from the brutal winter of the rest of Canada. I am reading and hearing that parts of downtown can be dangerous for cars, not people though.

    All in all, an eventful week, can’t believe it’s only been a week, I feel like i’ve been here a lot longer, but I’ve spent exactly 3 nights at my new place.

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  • Home at Last

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    All right, no more traveling. I was supposed to blog some when I was in North Carolina, somehow, never happened. I don’t blog well when I’m relaxed, apparently. But, I want to snk my teeth into all this carbon tax brouhaha, and I finally found some time to read the definitive guide to Canadian environmental policy, Unnatural Law, so at least I am now not completely ignorant about Canada.

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    Found the cat, clearly he has a bath tub thing, he’s done this in Chapel Hill too.

    Update!!!!

    Open my mail to see an envelope from Citizenship and Immigration Canada, pick it up and instantly feel that tell tale card, yes, my PR card is finally here, and I guess the photograph I sent them in February from NC finally got to them, hooray, I am now mostly Canadian! If they’d sent it a little earlier, could have avoided this whole Seattle driving brouhaha, but who cares! Man, what a day!!

    Pardon all the exclamation points, this card’s given me all kinds of grief, and it’s frigging crazy for it to show up just like that…

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    Warning: Personal post ahead, don’t read if you don’t know me!

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    Made it to Victoria safe and sound, though not without all kinds of adventures in the security line at RDU, place was a zoo of unprecedented (for me) proportions. But, a beautiful and sunny day in Victoria greeted me, and if I had not left my camera behind and simultaneously misplaced the SD micro card on my cellphone (its memory is full up), maybe I would have taken some pictures! I am staying at this place that is half hotel half hostel. The room’s tiny and spare, the place has a homely feel to it, the kitchen serves excellent food for four bucks, and has nice beer on tap. The place is alive and has character in a way a hotel would never have.

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  • Snippets of dreams remembered

    Or what happens when you make a single-minded effort to sleep in on the long weekend. These dreams all happened between 5 AM and 9 AM Sunday morning. I don’t usually interpret dreams, and am always pleasantly surprised when I remember them.

    Banana FlowerI wake up in my old bedroom in Chennai feeling bad that I have only one day to go on my trip, and that I need to start packing to leave. My packing is all awry, my passport is nowhere to be found. When I actually wake up, I am home, and happy that my “trip to India”, whenever that might be, has not even begun.

    Bee on flowerI turn around in bed and feel sharp pain as a bee (or wasp, my dream said bee) has bitten me in the ass (yes). I turn once more, and the sting is actually near my elbow, or is it? Were there two bees? Was there actually a sting? My dream state is not sure. Either way, I wake up, no bees.

    SaddleI am fixing S’s bicycle seat, and every time I shake it (this seems to be an important part of the fixing), a new part falls out. The seat, the post and the bike get more and more complicated and full of parts falling all over the place. I feel frustrated and lost, this seat is never going to get fixed, I question my skills. I wake up, relieved it was just a dream, but the seat’s still next to me in bed, parts still falling off. I then wake up for real. I love dreams within dreams and used to get them often, to terrifying effect. Thankfully, they’re now an occurrence rare enough to require immediate documentation.

    PS: I was reminded by the NVPA recently that I am required to keep a dream journal.

4 Comments

  1. Awesome post. Interesting how you point out that music that was intended as protest against “the man” was itself oppressive. I guess it goes to show how progress -if you can call it that- is a continuum, and we are all part of our times, and few of us can see further ahead than our context. Presumably they were still far more progressive than their parents even if they still sang music with oppressive lyrics.
    It’s also great learning something of your personal history.

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