The Guinness Book of World Records holds a lot of fascinating information like the fastest car, longest bridge, the deepest free dive or the world’s oldest living human. But some, in my opinion, are just stupid like the “world’s largest Cantonese Fried Rice” or the “most number of apples cut by a chainsaw in one minute while holding the apples in the mouth” or the “most naked riders on a theme park ride”. I mean, why?
Well, anyway, I think I would qualify to be in that esteemed publication too under the category of the longest time someone has had an earworm without hearing the song again or knowing what that tune was. Yes, I think I have a good shot. My record stands at 43 years.
43 years ago, when I was but a wee lad, I heard a recording of a tune and I liked it. I played it a few times that day but never heard it again. Yet for 43 years, you could catch me often just start humming or whistling the tune. And I never knew what the song was and never encountered it again……..until last year.
Last year, I discovered Spotify, and while looking at suggestions of songs I might like based on my selection of songs, I finally rediscovered the song after 43 years.
I always thought it was some kind of New Age song and for some reason I always had a picture of water from melting snow dripping off the leaves of an evergreen. The truth is that it is a jazz tune and has nothing to do with melting snow.
The tune is “Cast Your Fate to the Wind” by the Vince Guaraldi Trio. Any theories, dear amateur detectives, as to why a young kid would remember this one tune for almost his entire life from just listening to it for one day?
If you have read my last post, you will understand that I am, at the moment, a bit allergic to popular tourist spots and their attendant crowds of tourists. But also, I am sure we all realise that touristy places usually don’t reflect the lives of the locals very much.
So it is with a little trepidation that I share with you this quiet little gem in Lisbon which I am nominating as Squirrel’s Secret Spot or SSS #17 because I wouldn’t want this often overlooked place to be suddenly over run by the plague of locusts tourists. Then again, I reassure myself with the thought that the number of readers of this blog would make up a very plague or a very lonely horde. So we are probably safe if you keep the secret to yourselves.
Mouraria is Lisbon’s secret neighborhood. Lying on the slopes of the hill and under the shadow of the imposing castle, Castelo de São Jorge, it is the sister neighborhood to the more famous and more frequented Alfama area which is on the other side of the castle. Both neighborhoods are probably the oldest parts of Lisbon as they survived relatively intact after the great earthquake of 1755 flattened most of the city.
Mouraria means the Quarter of the Moors because it was first settled by the Moors in the year 714 and even after Lisbon fell to the Portuguese in 1147, they were allowed to live on there. It has always been a multicultural neighborhood and remains so today.
But why have I included Mouraria in my very select group of Secret Spots? It is enchanting and it feels like a hidden secret. One moment you are in a busy wide pedestrian avenue which seems typical of downtown Lisbon but just a few steps down a narrow opening between buildings and you enter a different world. At once, you leave the bustle of the city and you enter a peaceful, quiet village-like neighborhood. It seems like magic.
Mouraria is one of several places that claim to be the place where the music genre, Fado was born (see last post). The story goes that the very first star of Fado was Maria Severa Onofriana (1820-1846) and her house is still there in Mouraria. Fado is all about lamenting one’s fate so it is perhaps no surprise that Maria Severa did not have an easy life. She was a prostitute living in the slums and occasionally singing her sad songs in local taverns. One of her lovers was an aristocrat, Francisco de Paula Portugal e Castro, the Count of Vimioso. It was he that help elevate this song styling and made it popular among high society. Maria Severa died of tuberculosis at the age of 26 and was buried in a common ditch at a local cemetery.
Rua da Guia is lined with portraits of famous Fado singers who contributed to the growth of Fado’s popularity. Most are actual photographs but the one of Maria Severa is just a stylised drawing as no picture of her exists.
Mouraria’s narrow streets are also lined with 15 photo portraits of local residents. These and those of the Fado luminaries were photographs transferred onto concrete or wood by a special process by British born photographer Camilla Watson. She loved Mouraria and the people there and continues to be a member of the community and she wanted to thank the community for making her feel so welcomed. These photos help the visitor enter into the community too.
There are lovely surprises around every bend. It could be a quaint restaurant serving sardines, a charming little plaza, a park bench with a view, a street with neighbors talking on their doorstep or from their balconies, a neighborhood watering hole with no space to swing a cat but a long, long revered history, an old historic home, beautiful wall murals expressing the spirit of gratitude and hope in the community or it could be tables and chairs filling whatever space they could find along a narrow lane and serving the best samosas I have ever tasted, apparently for generations. Mouraria is so many small gems that make me want to go back and spend a lot more time there.
But for me, my short visit ended by going past a street of brilliant murals, down a steep stairway and then with one step, emerged between two buildings and onto a part of busy central Lisbon that I had walked before without knowing that an enchanted place was hidden just out of view.
I recently made a trip to Amsterdam and Lisbon via London. Only after the fact, I came to realise that I had just visited the capitol cities of the three European powers that once had colonies in Malaysia (the Portuguese came in 1511, the Dutch in 1641 and the British in 1786). A fortuitous synchronicity that enabled me to learn more about my country’s own past.
I was particularly excited about visiting Portugal because Portuguese influence on Malay history, culture and language was quite significant. There is still a Portuguese settlement in Melaka today and many Malaysians have some Portuguese ancestry. Many words in our national language come from the Portuguese.
As I was preparing for this trip, I got fascinated by fado; the music genre that is part of Portuguese national psyche. Originating in the 1820’s in Lisbon, the music could be said to be a type of lament. For example, it is suggested that, with reference to Portugal’s seafaring, exploration and global trade history, it may have been started by wives lamenting their husbands being away from them for many months and even years and sometimes never returning.
Said to be extremely expressive and profoundly melancholic, the fado songs speak of the hardships of daily life and a kind of resignation to that fate (which is the meaning of the word ‘fado’ – ‘fate’ or ‘destiny’. Someone wrote that fado has the emotional power to wring tears from your eyes.
Wow, I thought to myself, I have just got to go and see a fado performance while I am there. I am all into laments, melancholy and resignation to one’s fate. Not kidding. I have always liked to wallow in self pity and say “woe is me”.
So, I sought advice from a blogger friend, Ana Bica ( a fellow microbiologist and more importantly, a hometown girl of Lisbon). “Ana”, I asked, “where can I go to listen to some great fado in Lisbon?”
Ana suggested Clube de Fado. A very good recommendation; one that was also top of many lists on various internet forums on the topic. Now, in most fado establishments, the package includes both the fado performance and a fairly pricey meal. The consensus also seems to be that while the music is excellent, the food is pretty mediocre at these places.
Unfortunately, my traveling companions were definitely foodies first above all things and were somewhat skeptical of spending 3 hours listening to melancholic music and having their emotions ripped apart. They opted for fine dining instead……the Philistines!
So I was not able to actually go to a live performance (drats) but I did listen to some fado music and purchased a couple of CDs. One CD was in the more traditional style of the 1960’s and I must say, as much as I like the music, I too doubt if I could have listened to 3 hours of suffering. The second CD is by Ana Moura and represents a more contemporary style of fado; why the music was even occasionally upbeat even if the words were still melancholic!
Anyway, I have been listening to Ana Moura more or less continuously since then and wanted to share some of this music here with you. For you musically inclined readers, fado is usually done with a female singer (the fadista) accompanied by a Portuguese 12 string guitar(which is supposed to be very hard to play), guitar, viola and bass.
This song is ‘Amor Afoito’ or “Reckless Love’ which seems to be about a woman’s love for a man even when he has not proven he is deserving of her love.
Squirrels love to bury their precious nuts so as to uncover them later to enjoy at leisure. In the same way, this blog, from time to time, brings an old post back for another short period in the sun. This particular nut first saw light of day in 2007. My goodness – that’s a decade ago! Well, as September is always special to me for a number of reasons, here it is uncovered again……with a couple of editorial changes.
But first, let’s have some mood music by Neil Diamond who apparently also loves September morns….
It is the beginning of September and I noted a number of my blogging friends from the Northern Hemisphere are lamenting or at least marking the passing of summer. However, a few like me are ready to welcome September and the beginning of autumn. September has always been a special month for me. It seems like some of my happiest moments have been tied to this month or at least this season. In celebration of September, I offer this posting on the theme of “September Morn”. Below is a famous painting by Paul Chabas and the music is by Neil Diamond.
“September Morn” by Paul Chabas
Quoted from Bonnie Bull
“On a September morning in 1912, French painter Paul Chabas finished the painting he had been working on for three consecutive summers. Thus completed, it was aptly titled “Matinee de Septembre” (September Morn). As was typical of his style, the painting was of young maiden posed nude in a natural setting. This time the icy morning waters of Lake Annecy in Upper Savoy formed the natural setting and the maiden was a local peasant girl. The head, however, had been painted from the sketch of a young American girl, Julie Phillips (later Mrs. Thompson), which he had made while she and her mother were sitting in a Paris cafe. Apparently, he had found her profile to be exactly what he was looking for.
(LGS notes: Could this be a pre-Photoshop example of pasting someone’s head on to someone else’s naked body?)
The completed painting was then sent off to the Paris Salon of 1912 to be exhibited. Although the painting won Mr. Chabas the Medal of Honor, it caused no flurry of attention. Hoping to find a buyer, the artist shipped the painting overseas to an American gallery. It was here in America that the painting was destined to receive undreamed of publicity and popularity.
One day in May of 1913, displayed in the window of a Manhattan art gallery, it caught the eye of Anthony Comstock, head of the New York Society for the Suppression of Vice. Horrified by what he saw, he stormed into the store, flashed his badge, and roared: “There’s too little morn and too much maid. Take her out!” The gallery manager, however, refused to do so.
The ensuing controversy was given wide publicity by the press and the painting was simultaneously denounced and defended across the entire country. Meanwhile, curious crowds filled the street outside the shop straining to see the painting that caused such a stir.
Soon enterprising entrepreneurs were reproducing September Morn on everything conceivable: calendars, postcards, candy boxes, cigar bands, cigarette flannels, pennents, suspenders, bottle openers and more. Purity leagues tried to suppress it. Postcard reproductions were forbidden in the mails. The painting became the object of stock show gags and even inspired an anonymous couplet that swept the country, “Please don’t think I’m bad or bold, but where its deep it’s awful cold.”
(LGS notes: Why, this is like a meme!)
The painting went back to Paul Chabas who sold it to a Russian collector for the ruble equivalent of $10,000. After the Russian Revolution it turned up in Paris in the Gulbenkian Collection. Ultimately the painting was purchased by Philadelphia Main Liner Willaim Coxe Wright and donated to Manhattan’s Metropolitan Museum in 1957 after being refused by the Philadelphia Museum of Art because it had no significance in the twentieth century stream of art. It’s estimated market value in 1957 was $30,000. The painting still hangs in the Metropolitan Museum as an example of 20th century French works and reproductions can be purchased in the museum’s gift shop.”
I am sure that most of you have by now heard of the song Despacito by Luis Fonsi and featuring Justin Beiber. This month it became the world’s most streamed song of all time with over 4.6 billion streams. In fact, you have probably seen the video and heard the song so many times that you are beginning to lose your grip on sanity. Everywhere you turn, the song or the video is playing for the umpteenth time.
Well, not in Malaysia. If you need relief, come to Malaysia. It is a Despacito free zone; at least you will not hear it on any government run radio station or see it on any government run or government related TV channels. The Malaysian government, at the behest of self appointed religious police, has declared the song lyrics obscene and banned the song.
These are the same people who recently tried to ban the use of names like hot dogs, pretzel dogs, Coney dogs etc because it was offensive to those who considered dogs to be unclean.
Anyway, being a passive aggressive squirrel, I have decided to do an act of civil disobedience by posting this cover version of the song that is being played using the traditional Malay “gamelan” instruments – although it is by a group from our neighbor, Indonesia.
………..because you just can’t stop the squirrel! Hope you like it.
Leonard Cohen (September 21, 1934 – November 10, 2016). A novelist, poet and songwriter. A beautiful soul has passed ahead of us. I’m sorry Bob Dylan but for the Nobel Prize for Literature, I would have thought of Leonard Cohen ahead of you.
Here is a little tribute and remembrance post to this wonderful individual whose words and music can touch our hearts. I decided not to post some obvious choices like “Suzanne” or “Hallelujah” as I expect they will be cropping up all over. I had previously posted on two of my favorites “Famous Blue Raincoat” and “Villanelle for Our Times”. So here are two more of his stellar songs as sung by two lovely songstress.
So Bob Dylan has been awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature 2016. An unusual and unexpected choice because this is the first time the award has been given to a songwriter. That Bob Dylan is one of the most influential songwriters ever and that he deserves recognition as a poet is in my opinion without doubt. However, some will criticize the decision.
American comedian Rob Delaney wrote on Twitter “Bob Dylan wins the Nobel Prize for Literature? What’s next, [former baseballer] Derek Jeter wins a Tony for his rice pilaf?”
But since, we are talking about songwriting as good literature, I thought I would share with you one of my favorites which also happens to have an earworm for me for the last few days.
I refer to the 1967 number one hit, “Ode to Billie Joe”, which won three Grammys for its singer-songwriter Bobbie Gentry. I was just 6 years old when I heard it for the first time and I had not yet developed my understanding of nor a sense of my personal taste in music but even then I was hooked on this song. I liked the very simple guitar and strings arrangement but I was really fascinated with was the story that the song was telling and the way it was being told; a story of tragedy and mystery being woven in with ordinary, even banal conversation in a very ordinary setting. Interestingly, it has been reported that Bob Dylan did not think so highly of Bobbie Gentry’s writing style in that song and that he wrote “Clothes Line Saga” (recorded in 1967; released on the 1975 album The Basement Tapes) as a parody of that writing style. He had originally titled his song as “Answer to Ode”.
Well, ex-cu-se me, Mr. Recently Awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature, but I like the song and the way Bobbie Gentry wrote it. Like any other fine literature, it engages, it draws one in, it tells a story about life, it affects us emotionally and it leaves us with as many questions as it answers.
Here without further ado is the work itself……..
It was the third of June, another sleepy, dusty Delta day. I was out choppin’ cotton and my brother was balin’ hay. And at dinner time we stopped, and we walked back to the house to eat. And mama hollered at the back door “y’all remember to wipe your feet.” And then she said she got some news this mornin’ from Choctaw Ridge Today Billy Joe MacAllister jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge.
Papa said to mama as he passed around the blackeyed peas, “Well, Billy Joe never had a lick of sense, pass the biscuits, please.” “There’s five more acres in the lower forty I’ve got to plow.” Mama said it was shame about Billy Joe, anyhow. Seems like nothin’ ever comes to no good up on Choctaw Ridge, And now Billy Joe MacAllister’s jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge
And brother said he recollected when he and Tom and Billy Joe Put a frog down my back at the Carroll County picture show. And wasn’t I talkin’ to him after church last Sunday night? “I’ll have another piece of apple pie, you know it don’t seem right. I saw him at the sawmill yesterday on Choctaw Ridge, And now you tell me Billy Joe’s jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge.”
Mama said to me “Child, what’s happened to your appetite? I’ve been cookin’ all morning and you haven’t touched a single bite. That nice young preacher, Brother Taylor, dropped by today, Said he’d be pleased to have dinner on Sunday. Oh, by the way, He said he saw a girl that looked a lot like you up on Choctaw Ridge And she and Billy Joe was throwing somethin’ off the Tallahatchie Bridge.”
A year has come ‘n’ gone since we heard the news ’bout Billy Joe. Brother married Becky Thompson, they bought a store in Tupelo. There was a virus going ’round, papa caught it and he died last spring, And now mama doesn’t seem to wanna do much of anything. And me, I spend a lot of time pickin’ flowers up on Choctaw Ridge, And drop them into the muddy water off the Tallahatchie Bridge.
There! Did you catch my earworm?
Viewing the World Through the Observation of Squirrels