Plenty of Piranha in the Sea

 

If you like listening to rock music (and I don't mean just the kind which makes the loudest or fastest noise possible), and you're not a misanthrope or an adrenalin junkie, and you live in the country that I do, then you will agree with me when I say that the world seems pretty bleak.

What I mean is that, there are two major varieties of idiot rock fan that can be found commonly in India. Not everyone fits these cases, but the majority do:

Idiot type 1: Metalheads.

Adrenalin junkies. These are found everywhere, but in slightly more concentration among the affluent. When you encounter one, the conversation tends to go like this:

You: "Oh, you like rock? What kind?"

Metalhead: "Oh you know, man...metal! Yeah! Children of Bodom man! Lamb of God, Metallica, Ironmaiden! Fucking love that shit! yeah! Ohh yeah! Korn!! Korn just kicks ass man...fuck, yeah!! Oh...Oh...Oh...SLIPKNOT!!! Ooooooh yeaaah!!!

(pause)

Uh...Shit man, I could use a cigarette right now."

Y: "Um, okay. I see. What about other kinds? Hard rock? Grunge? Psychedelic? Progressive? Classic? Blues? Jazz? Acoustic? There's a lot to choose from, you know."

M: "Seriously dude? I don't like all that stuff...too soft. Gimme metal!! Real music!!"

Y: "Right. Well, see ya. And...put your pants back on."

Idiot type 2: Hippies.

Common in engineering colleges, although not restricted to them. These chaps are like this because their fathers went to engineering colleges in the 70's, and then told them about it. They actually think they're living in that time. They sound like:

Hippie: "Yeah man, the Beatles are the shit. Lennon was a god, man. A god of love. And Floyd, dude. It just make me wish the 70's were back."

Y: "You weren't even born till late 80's."

M: "Yeah man, but it was the age of love. We should go back to the 70's."

 

Neither of these varieties of idiot are listening to bad music. Metal's great. So were the 70's. But they restrict themselves to tiny boxes for very silly reasons.

The upshot of all this has been the complete predictability of Indian rock. Everything is either metal or classic. And that's why the Indian rock scene has been stagnating in the past years...all our original bands have been trying to become either Lamb of God or The Beatles.

Up until now, that is.

There is a small but growing community of fans and desi bands that are trying to break out of the mould. The last Campus Rock Idols I saw had, surprisingly, among the regular scores of metal bands, a few very tasteful and original musicians. Bands like Cafe Dilemma and even the more mainstream Nerverek gave me hope.

Yesterday I saw, for the second time, a band that is an example of the growth of Indian rock.

Lounge Piranha came to Manipal last year as well, and played to a small but enthusiastic crowd. The performance was so successful that they returned again this year, at the conclusion of their Going Nowhere album tour. These guys are the embodiment of everything that is changing about the rock scene in the country. They call themselves a 'post-rock' band (which, in all fairness, sounds quite silly), but even without having to make such an obvious attempt at seeming unique, they do have a fresh sound.

Experimentalism is a key characteristic of their sound, hence the inclusion of the Australian didjeridoo in many of their songs, playing the guitars with violin bows, e-bows, and a variety of processor effects, and occasional exotic percussion instruments. The sound is ambient, ranging from easy-listening light tracks like Ebb, to intense, trance-like numbers like Teenage Curse. And when it all seems to be getting too familiar, they'll throw in a medley of covers that are so unusual that you have to laugh.

The lyrics are simple and the vocals usually mellow and hypnotic to add to the psychedelic air. The basswork tends to be modest and unassuming most of the time, but then occasionally reveals itself in bursts of flourish. Thrown in is chordic, rhythmic guitaring interspersed with doubled choruses and layered with effects-driven soundscapes. And the entire ensemble, usually seasoned with a dash of the didjeridoo or a sampler track, is held together and driven by some very subtle, very good drumming (the surprise is actually what makes it special...after all, it is just amateur musicianship).

The truth is, Piranha are mostly only moderately talented musicians., and the new album does resemble the staggering first steps of an infant. But LP represent more than their own sound...they represent a shift in the psyche of the Indian rock fan. One that, I hope, is not just a passing phase, and will grow into a more mature appreciation of music. One that will lead to a deeper and more holistic approach in our country to the great institute of rock music.

And I'm back!...And I'm gone again!

I don't have a very long lunch break, and need to finish the workshop assignment before i go to class, so this doesn't hold the faintest chance of being a real entry.



But since I haven't written anything in ages (because my laptop screen is broken), I thought I should just make a courtesy post, as a sort of reminder to myself that I'm commited to keep this an active page.



So I nicked this machine from my neighbour. Got a few minutes before he'll notice.



See you as soon as my machine gets fixed...got plenty of new stuff to talk about!



ohdamnherehecomesbyegtgillbeback...later.

You nailed it, Winnie

"If you are going to go through hell, keep going."

What on earth is this Breathe stuff anyway?

I felt some explanation was due for the entry before last.

It is the first in a series of short chapters following the fictional tale of somebody I made up and decided to call Dot, because he can't beat me up for it.

The story is a bit of an experiment in writing and occasional philosophy. I plan to put up Dot chapters from time to time. We'll see how it goes.

Comments, suggestions, tips, advice, and artfully crafted abuse are welcome.

Of Old Friends

Technorati Tags: prose,journal,friendship,friends,things written by bored writers

Let's talk about old friends.

Why, you ask. It's a Monday today, which may be seen as not the best day to talk about old friends (I'm not sure exactly why, but Monday never seems to feel like a good day to do anything, which makes the fact that it starts off the week rather unfortunate), but that's the thing about talking about old friends...it never feels like the appropriate time to actually do it. But, as I've begun to understand of late, it is very important to. Vital, as it turns out. ('It turns out' is a phrase that I use with thanks to Douglas Adams, for pointing out its nature as a great way of inventing fact without providing evidence, while simultaneously hinting at the existence of extensive personal research and authority, thus eliminating the need for justification. Yeah, all right, that was completely irrelevant to the entry and breaks the flow of the subject. But the man is so right! I just had to use it.)

So, enough about Mondays, let's go back to talking about old friends.

First of all, I'm not just talking about people. Friends come in many shapes and sizes; taking an example at random, one of mine comes in those of a short length of wood with a bit of graphite inside it and some small quantity of rubber stuck at one end. We used to get along splendidly well, and for considerable lengths of time could ignore the outside world and the folks in it entirely, deriving unimaginable fun instead from playing our imaginations across blank paper. Quite remarkable, now I think about it, how long its been since we've spent a careless afternoon together. And I was good at drawing.

But, with passing time and changing demands of the day, we can and in fact must leave these friends behind. As a very wise man once blogged- friends love you the way you are. So, if you want to change, even if for the better, or do something new and fresh in your life, friends aren't the people best suited to support you.

This may sound heartless and antisocial, but in fact it keeps me from making unreasonable demands on a friendship that is otherwise beautifully enjoyable.

I'm on my summer break, so meeting old friends is the flavour of the season. It's a great feeling to go back to something familiar; maybe look at it in a fresh light, rejoice in the differences as much as in the things that never, amazingly, seem to change.

While change is all very well, and when it comes to embracing the new cheese, I say 'tuck in' as loudly as the next man (or at least, don't glare at him reproachfully for it), I do also love the feeling of nostalgia, and of effortless enjoyment...the kind that is only possible in the company of those that you have carried with you as experience that makes the strands of your personality.

Because old friends are more than just people or objects... they are what you secretly hold within yourself, as your identity, and as your compass, when you go out to make new friends.

I'm beginning to feel here a need to explain myself for all this wishy-washy stuff about friendship and identity and nostalgia and so on, which I imagine could be viewed as rather unhealthy thinking in a young person like myself. The whole thing about the nature of old friends came to my mind recently, when my grandmom called to get her regular status update on my sanity. She pointed out to me that mathematics wasn't so bad after all (I never thought it was, but my grade in a recent examination was beginning to raise some questions about the same) and that I had, once upon a time, actually considered it as a full time subject of study, hadn't I? And I really used to enjoy it. But it seemed that I had forgotten my old friends in my hurry to make new ones. That I had picked up a fresh mistress and forgotten to write regularly to the old girlfriend. And naturally, old friends, if forgotten, tend to turn sour. Maybe I just need to spend some time remembering my old friends.

As always, she makes me smile foolishly to myself. She has such a deceptively gentle way of seeing right through me.

But I digress.

The importance of thinking about, and spending time with old friends, is that they let you retrace the path that leads to you becoming you. They remind you of sides of your personality that you can forget in the course of your daily life, things about yourself that you would suddenly remember how much you cherish. They remind you, in anecdote and in humour, of mistakes you made and recovered from, so that you may remember the lessons and not repeat your mistakes. They remind you of your triumphs that they shared with you, which in those frustrating times when the self-esteem struggles in vicious eddies of failure are the vital log that keep you afloat. And they may even occasionally buy you dinner, which is of course a truly incomparable moment of happiness.

Sometimes, old friends even remind you of other old friends...which is like getting a complementary dessert. For instance, I was recently reminded by one of mine (friends, not complementary desserts) of my love of art. She actually pointed out to me a talent that, in retrospect, I am astounded I forgot about, given how much pleasure it used to give me. I'm buying pencils again. (Thank you, by the way, if you're reading. I promise to share on this space anything worthy I subsequently come up with. I am rather grateful to you.)

Of course, there is the possibility of old friends leaving you. This, if you are lucky, is rare. Because the short end of the deal is wrenchingly unpleasant. The effects I don't need to discuss...most of you probably know how the loss of an old friend feels, and I sympathise with you for having experienced the horror of that feeling. It is slower than the horror of other kinds of loss, and reveals itself in treacherous layers. I shall say no more on this subject, for fear of relating another very long tale in an already long discourse, except to observe this: it is, then, even more a blessing when in such an unenviable situation you find other friends to share some of the weight with.

All in all, revisiting old friends is a good thing. At the very least, you remember how to laugh mindlessly and without meaning, how to effortlessly be yourself. I sometimes regret not going back to some of the friends I have left behind, because it necessarily means losing a part of my identity and history.

So now, in closing, as I'm sprawled out typing at this unearthly hour, having read a few Wodehouse stories, listening to Pastime with Good Company (Jethro Tull) and Money for Nothing (Dire Straits), no longer very certain of how much sense I'm talking, and generally without cares for the moment, I shall make myself a promise to always remember the rest of my old friends, at least the ones who really meant a lot somewhere along the way.

I heartily suggest you do the same.

Breathe

This tells of the beginning.

First light. The first moment of awareness.

Also the most absolute moment of awareness.

Are your blues my yellows? Are my reds your greens? Everything, all axiomatic constants, all basic laws governing your own universe are created. It's the only universe you will ever know.

The first instant of consciousness makes you fall in love with the world. You cannot help it, for anything that induces so much unbelievable and overwhelming emotion in you is love. It is true love at first sight.

And, just as every love has its own flavour, in that moment, you taste your own flavour of your love for your universe...and it will stay with you forever.

Here we speak of birth, and of definition.

In that moment, we are us, our absolute selves, because we have not yet learned how to be anything else.

We may forget this moment of self-realisation, soon, sometimes to remember it much later, sometimes not, sometimes to repeatedly forget...but here, in this instant, it is made.

'I am henceforth defined as me.'

This is the one single string of consciousness that runs through us, if we are lucky enough to be born alive...this is the very same that ran through the boy we will soon become friends with, the boy who cries out, even as we look on at the moment, from the shock of his new and overwhelming love, his consciousness, now...the boy who will later be named by those responsible for his creation (in the way that spark-plugs are responsible for the moving of your car), for the sake of quick reference and convenience among an intelligent social species...as Dot.

Back to progressive with Tool

After Dream Theater droppped out of my playlist, I thought I wouldn't be straying near progressive for a while...but then I came across Tool. They satisfied my hard rock cravings and at the same time, made some of the best progressive I have heard in a while.

[This image is originally from http://amiross.blogspot.com/2007/12/tool-band.html]

Tool really put a lot of thought into their music. While most big progressive bands, especially progressive metal like Dream Theater, concentrate mainly on melodic complexity, Tool's trademark is the use of very unusual, varying time signatures, and hard-hitting, significant lyrics. Their song and album themes cover everything from political and social commentary, to mathematics and nature.

Their sound is characterized by heavy, wholesome, distorted riffs, a driving and inventive bass (I personally really like the bass sound of Tool), subtly melodious and haunting vocals, and thoroughly absorbing rythms (Danny Carey's drumming lend an incredibly infectious power to all of Tools songs). All the ingredients for a great hard rock performance.

If, however, you allow yourself to penetrate a bit deeper into their music, you discover the kind of deliberate thought that each song of Tool features.

Keenan's lyrics (and the perfectly complementing vocals) unfailingly send chills down the spine. Beautifully constructed verses, and perfect vocal timing. Nowhere does this come out better than in Lateralus, where the lines of each verse have a peculiar property: if you count the number of syllables of each line, the number oscillates up and down the Fibonacci Series (the song itself is about spirals- which, in nature, are described by the Fibonacci Series- and how one should live life not linearly and fixedly, but laterally, allowing oneself to move away from narrow-mindedness and explore the beauty of the world. I can't help but smile at that.)

Jones's guitaring style isn't anything specific...though metal-style play seems to be an underlying characteristic in many songs. Jones, like the other band members, likes to experiment with guitar sounds...which gives Tool's songs a whole range of interesting guitar sounds, and complements the theme of the band.

Justin's bass, as I noted earlier, has a great texture to it. And he plays the instrument inventively enough to capture your interest, as well as shoots a great deal of energy into the music.

Drummer Danny Carey, of course, is the man behind all the lovely crazy-time signatures and accenting. All things put together, Tool are just great if you wanna rock out...and don't want some easy listening at all.

Check out the video of Vicarious: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UUXBCdt5IPg

Understanding Symmetry

I have been reading a book over the past few weeks, whenever time would permit, called 'The Equation That Couldn't Be Solved', by mathematician Mario Livio. So far, I'm about halfway through it, but I thought I'd put up a word here anyway.

This book talks about the mathematical theory of symmetry developed by Niels Henrik Abel and Evariste Galois, two mathematicians separately tackling the solvability of the quintic equation (an algebraic equation in one variable, of degree 5), which mathematicians had struggled with for over 200 years at the time.* It tells the heart-rending tale of their lives (really, mathematicians aren't always a bunch of grey-haired, high-collared, pince-nez-wearing geezers. Both the protagonists of this book are very young, and live intense lives...but I'll let Livio do the telling) and gives, beautifully and accessibly, the concept of group theory.



Returning to the mathematicians' quest...sadly, they discovered not the general solution, but rather proved the lack of one (of course, this was just as exciting), at least one using the common algebraic operations. But then, unexpectedly, Galois came up with something altogether new...a group theory. In it, he used a new concept, that of mathematical symmetry, to determine whether an equation of a given degree was solvable using algebra. While this was a massive achievement in itself (even more for the fact that Galois was barely 20 years old at the time he came up with it), group theory went on to find application in a whole lot more of mathematics. It showed up wherever symmetry played a role...and symmetry is very popular in nature.

I wanted to provide a general idea about the working of group theory, but I think that should wait until I've finished the book...don't want to put some half-baked understanding out here. So I'll edit this entry in a few days, once I'm through.

Meanwhile, if you can, be sure to pick up the book. It's not just for students of mathematics...you don't even need to have done a whole lot of algebra in school. That's one of the great things about the book- without a lot of mathematical jargon or squiggly equations, Livio manages to bring out quite gracefully, one of the most deeply satisfying concepts in mathematics.

Or you can order it here: http://www.amazon.com/Equation-That-Couldnt-Solved-Mathematical/dp/0743258215/ref=pd_bbs_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1208546525&sr=1-2

Happy reading. Later.

First Breath

Hi.

I'm beginning this blog to put down in one place, all new things, ideas and thoughts I come across. Ordinarily, I get absorbed by one thing or another, and then proceed to shower my excitement about it to anyone who's too slow to escape. Here, I hope to shower several people at once with the stuff, as well as give them an option in hearing (or, rather, reading) about it.

On this blog you'll find all sorts of things, from physics, the sciences, mathematics and economics to music, entertainment, art, and maybe occasionally a piece of writing, when I feel so inclined. I don't plan on making the blog journalistic, but really I haven't a theme for this blog...just trying to share anything that captures my imagination.

So, with a deep first breath, I enter the blogosphere...hello, everybody.