If Music Be The Food Of Love..

Music

 

Music is a matter of choice and one man’s bliss could be another man’s boredom.

Back when I was young and impressionable, I must confess that music and I were not compatible. In other words, if there was music around then it was alright. Even if wasn’t it was still alright.

However, when I was in school, I heard a fellow student merrily singing an early track by Carlos Santana called Black Magic Woman.

It was the ‘funny” track title and the lyrics which sort of fascinated me. I decided to invest some money in buying an EP record, and played it on an old, somewhat rickety record player.

Yes, I simply loved it. That was a small, baby step into the world of music.

The above friend suggested that music was a good antidote while burning the midnight oil, buried in complexities of physics and maths. He put me on to Radio Kuwait and the Voice of America (VoA), which played music all night.

Curiosity took over.  Suddenly the names began to make sense though the type of music they played did not register. I do remember that Eric Clapton’s I Shot the Sherriff would be played regularly on Radio Kuwait.

I have much to thank VoA for being a constant companion during my last year in school.

All those late night sessions listening to jazz inspired me to keep going and study longer hours. Having been on the brink of failure over the last three grades in school, VoA helped me tune into the studying habit and I managed to beat all expectations.

Not only did I pass but crawled up to First Class by the thinnest of margins.

The era of rock n roll was firmly entrenched by then. Elvis was King and the Beatles ruled.

The Woodstock generation had by now made a name for themselves in the music scene. Santana was toying with the lead guitar like a play thing, fingers flicking furiously through it like magic. And there was Jimi Hendrix, purple haze all in his brain, even playing with his teeth.

There is this thing when you are young that if you knew music and musicians, it would do you no harm to drop names occasionally. The constant barrage of music blaring on the radio all night had given me an edge and it was used to great effect.

A causal mention of vague groups then like Buckman Turner Overdrive or the Manhattans was often met with a curious look and an appreciative nod over my knowledge.

Then more names were dropped and then even more.

During the college days, music played a big hand in connecting with a girl who was the apple of my eye. She was what dreams were made of and I could not muster up enough courage to even utter a word to her.

My friends and I enrolled ourselves for the class picnic much against their will. And she was coming too. We had a tape recorder and one cassette which had Deep Purple’s Greatest Hits and The Doors’ LA Woman. Deep Purple and The Doors did what I couldn’t do. She was enticed by the music and we started talking. However, to put the record straight nothing happened beyond that.

But the one thing surely did happen. Doors frontman Jim Morrison heavily influenced me and from a names dropper I was firmly into music, heart and soul.

It has broadened my horizon and I have embraced all types of music. Today music is my mantra.

As Duke Orsino says in William Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night – “If music be the food of love play on……”

Babu Kalyanpur
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