Showing posts with label Stevie Wonder. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stevie Wonder. Show all posts

Sunday, 12 January 2014

Sunday Mornings: Coffee, Reflections and Music

A few weeks ago I popped by my local Tesco. On my way back home I found myself behind a man out walking his dog. Due to the weight of my shopping my usual brisk pace was somewhat slowed down. This allowed me to observe the way the man and his dog interacted with each other and the environment around them. First, there was a stop for the canine to raise one of its legs and water one of the trees that populate the road on which I was walking. A few blocks further and still weighed down by my shopping I saw the dog and its owner make a second stop. This time for a number two. The dog, mind you, not the man. Again, the repository of this physiological need was a tree. Similar to the previous one, tall and with a strong trunk. I caught up with the pair as they were about to cross a busy road. Whilst waiting for the lights to change the man patted his pooch on its head. I asked myself silently: “I wonder if someone will be patting those trees we left behind”.

It seems to me that we humans have a funny – as in strange, funny – relationship with our environment. Especially when it comes to animals and plants. One of the reasons, I think, is because animals, pets mainly, are capable of interacting with us and responding to our actions. Imagine if those trees had been able to tell that dog off for peeing and pooing on them. This is a topic that has fascinated me for many years: motion versus stillness. Purely because when the need has arisen I have also behaved in a similar fashion to that dog. However, I would never dream of defecating on a cute kitty or using a guinea pig as the repository for my urine. Is it, I wonder, the lack of motion and conspicuous responses from plants and trees that leads us to believe that we can do with them as we like?

One of the most hilarious cartoons I’ve ever seen in my life was in The New Yorker a few years ago. Two trees were giggling together with a speech bubble above one of them reading: “They (humans) smell our gases, how sick is that?”. The anthropomorphic nature of the joke could not hide the fact that we would never consider two trees immersed in conversation, let alone cracking a very good joke like that one.

But whilst I am not suggesting that we start adopting bushes as pets and walking them in the local park (where they could be watched enviously by other bushes without the same luck) I do think that the way we discriminate against plants says a lot about our attitude as humans to our environment. Whether you believe in climate change or not, we know that our planet is in peril. More than half of plants and trees could see dramatic losses in the next half century and this could have a knock-on effect on animals as many habitats will become unsuitable for them. The collapse of eco-systems would have a huge impact on the oxygen we breathe, the water we drink and the lands we visit as tourists. Funny that the air we inhale comes from trees like the one pooed on by the cute dog I mentioned earlier. We are part of a universal chain and yet our actions are dictated by an individual mindset.

In the grand scheme of things the dog I saw weeing and pooing on those trees would have no more significance than a toddler running joyfully around in my local park. That is what animals do. But when you take into consideration that plants and trees are not at the front of our minds (unless you happen to be an avid gardener whose fruitful labour is evidenced by the photos you post on your blog or website regularly. Ta muchly!) and that we could prevent the danger they face by scaling down our carbon emissions and behaving more responsibly, then that dog takes on a more sinister meaning. We can crap (pardon my French) on our green environment all we want with impunity.

Coincidentally one of the songs I was listening to earlier on my mp3 player that day was The Secret Life of Plants by Stevie Wonder but performed by Gilberto Gil. The first verse could not be more appropriate for what I witnessed later: I can't conceive the nucleus of all/Begins inside a tiny seed/And what we think as insignificant/Provides the purest air we breathe. All sung beautifully in a Brazilian accent. As for the dog and the man, forget about – up to a certain point - disrespecting the two trees. That I can put up with, muse over and write about. What I can’t stand is pet owners who do not clean up after their darlings. But I will leave that for another column.

© 2014

Next Post: “Food, Music, Food, Music, Food, Music... Ad Infinitum”, to be published on Wednesday 15th January at 11:59pm (GMT)


Wednesday, 19 June 2013

Food, Music, Food, Music, Food, Music... Ad Infinitum


The official summer season kicks off in two days but this blog owner has been suffering its effects for a couple of months already. Due to the prolonged cold weather we had after March when spring should have arrived, pollen has appeared later than usual. And that goes for tree pollen and pollen from flowers. So, you could say that I have been under a double attack in the last ten or twelve weeks, except for my fortnight holiday in Cuba back in April.

This is the reason why my recipe tonight carries sugar up its sleeve, to me summer is sugar, I have no idea why. This is one dessert I will be making very soon if I can just get over the fact I have to include rum. You see, I’m teetotal. But I confess it’s the pineapple that’s done the trick for me.

I came across this pudding in the pages of The Guardian’s new(ish) Cook supplement and knew immediately I had stumbled upon one of those delights my family will be asking for again, again and again. Words by The Soul Food Girls Supper Club, by the way.

Pineapple and rum upside-down cake with hot buttered rum sauce

For the cake


435g pineapple rings, drained
2 large eggs
125g golden caster sugar
150g plain flour, sifted
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp vanilla extract
50g unsalted butter, melted
Zest of ½ a lemon
75ml semi-skimmed milk
3 tbsp dark Jamaican rum
For the sauce
100g light brown muscovado sugar
120ml double cream
120ml dark Jamaican rum
2 tbsp unsalted butter

Grease a round cake tin and preheat the oven to 175C/350F/gas mark 4. Line the bottom of the tin with pineapple rings – you may need to squeeze them in a bit to make them fit. Cut the remaining rings in half and line the sides. In a bowl, whisk the eggs and sugar together until light and frothy. In a separate bowl, combine the flour and baking powder and mix well. Add the flour mixture to the eggs and sugar, and combine well. Add the butter, lemon zest, vanilla extract, milk and rum and mix well. Pour the cake mixture on top of the pineapple rings and bake for about 40 minutes until it has risen, is a light brown colour and a skewer inserted in the middle comes out clean. Let the cake sit for about 5 minutes before turning out on to a wire rack to cool completely. The bottom (the top when it's upside down) of the cake will look underdone: this is because the pineapples are so moist, but the rest of the cake will be fine – so don't worry! To make the sauce, stir the sugar and cream in a saucepan over a medium heat until melted and it has become well combined. Add the rum and allow to simmer until slightly thickened. Add the butter and stir until melted. Pour over the cake while hot and serve immediately.


For more recipes visit soulfoodgirlssupperclub.blogspot.co.uk

The music to go with this recipe has to make the listener melt like the sugar and cream in the saucepan. The kind of melody that makes you go: “I’m easy like Sunday morning”. That’s why I am going to start with the still little-known Alice Russell. What must Alice do to be better known by soul and jazz lovers? There was a time when her albums Under the Munka Moon 1 and 2 were played back to back to back in my house. Breakdown is the reason why. Beautiful harmonies with a strong voice.



From Alice we go to a duo of whom I haven’t heard anything for ages. Jazzyfatnastees is summer and vanilla extract, in all their sultry glory. Enjoy.



Why is it that a lot of social uprisings and riots take place in the summer? Gordon Lightfoot wrote about the Detroit riots in the 60s in his immortal song, Black Day in July. It’s only a couple of years ago that London was ablaze in the summer and look at Turkey and Brazil now (although it's autumn time in the souther hemisphere, I hasten to add. But I'm looking at it from our "summer" point of view). That’s why my third musical offering tonight comes from the godfather of rap, the late Gil Scott-Heron and one of his more consciously social compositions, B Movie, inspired by the also late former US president Ronald Reagan. Timeless tune.



Yasmine Hamdan is a new singer in my music collection. I love her voice, her projection, her arrangements. To me, here’s someone who doesn’t want to be labelled as “exotic other”, which is, sadly, the attitude I find very often amongst lovers of the wrongly called “world music” (I thought all music was world music!). Anyway, Samar, from the album Ya Nass, is beautiful.



We finish with Stevie, or rather his daughter Aisha Morris joining her dad in a duet of a song that needs no introduction. This is summer, mi gente, it might not be my favourite season, but with that pineapple and rum dessert I can put up with anything. Bring it on!



© 2013

Photo taken from The Guardian

Next post: “Sunday Mornings: Coffee, Reflections and Music”, to be published on Sunday 23rd June at 10am (GMT)

Sunday, 7 August 2011

While My MP3 Gently Plays

I'm still on holidays but didn't fancy leaving the blog inactive. That's why I'll keep sharing with you the music I listen to on my mp3 regularly.

"Can I Kick It?" was not the first tune I heard by A Tribe Called Quest. That one was "I Left My Wallet in El Segundo". Still, when I feel like grooving, there's nothing like the good ol' Tribe to pump music into my ears. Nostalgic.




Stevie's written so many anthems that it's hard to choose which one to listen to on my diminutive Sony gadget. However, "Master Blaster (Jammin')" is always there at the top of my playlist. Truly amazing.




And if we're discussing anthems, then, we need to include Aerosmith's "Dream On". One of those eyes-closed, arms-aloft, lighters-up-above-our-heads melodies. What do you think Steven Tyler was telling the guitarist (0:40)? Answers on a postcard, please. Mesmerising.




We're finishing on a high today, with Africa's finest, Amadou and Mariam. Please, do not be fooled. The words to this song might appear simple at first sight, yet, they are deep. Perfect musical stimulation for those moments when you are physically exhausted (especially after doing some tiring housework during the holidays) and need something to bring you back from that "zombie zone" into which we all fall once in a while. The chorus of this groovy tune should suffice, then: chantez-chantez/jouez-jouez/dansez-dansez. Magical.




Next Post: "While My MP3 Gently Plays", to be published on Sunday 14th August at 10am (GMT)

Sunday, 15 August 2010

Greatest Hits - Track 9

This week I've decided to resurrect a post that first came out in March 2008. And as Cerys counsels in the last clip below (top to bottom), to me holidays, amongst other activities, are about getting some peace of mind. Enjoy. Yup, still away.


Thursday 6th March. 8.30am. A street in London. I am driving the children to school. My wife's gone to Italy with Creative Partnerships and it's up to me to do the school run whilst she is away. I roll down the car window to let in some air, just a couple of inches, mind, and then it hits me. Spring's here. Well, almost.

It's a bright morning and the British birds' Commonwealth anthem is at full blast. Their singing accompanies the fluttering of wings. They look so busy, building or re-building their nests up in eaves.

The morning wind caresses my face. It is not a warm breeze yet, oh, no, but it is not a freezing one either. It is a chilly air, pleasant enough for me to withstand its strokes with a smile on my face. Outside, kids rush to school, cars zoom past, buses cut in in front of me. But inside, I am radiating the type of energy which, if discovered, could see me persecuted by countless thugs trying to patent it and sell it.

Streets curve seductively out of sight, houses stand tall and proud with binding ivy weaving its way around the building and people go to work carrying their sandwiches and newspapers, some of them with ciggies in hand.

On days like these, I remain silent and let the music in the car do the talking.

What if Dylan was booed during this performance at the Newport Festival? Try listening to this song with the wind sneaking into the car early in the morning and giving you that pleasant, mirthful feeling that everything is going to turn out all right, because you know what? I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more. Everytime this track comes on, my fingers work out a drumbeat on the steering wheel and the whole car merrily swings side to side. Poetic.



I have referred previously on this blog to my need sometimes to have a song telling a story playing in the car. And this track, composed by the Argentinian pop singer Juan Carlos Baglietto about God and the Devil working together in a workshop, fits me like a glove. A real jewel. Magnífico.



Many times I catch myself humming a song with political or social undertones in the car. Not surprisingly, more often than not it is a track by Maestro Stevie. This belongs to an era when musicians were allowed to roam free unencumbered by commercial pressures or record sales. Nostalgic.



In this song, as soon as the guitar kicks in, the car window goes down and my hands relax their grip on the steering wheel. No need for introduction here. Majestic.



Do not be fooled by the title of this track. There's no ire in this song, it's just about how we should all take it easy in life and days like these inspire me to follow Cerys' edict. Husky.



© 2008

Next Post: Greatest Hits - Track 10 , to be posted on Sunday 22nd August at 10am (GMT)

Wednesday, 11 March 2009

A Cuban In Cuba (Killer Opening Songs-Special Edition)

The car's engine is switched off at the entrance of the hotel and Gigi's voice is immediately muted. Outside, the sounds of the city become clearer: lorries thundering past, voices talking in high pitches and music blaring out of stereos.

Once inside the hotel room the only sound rushing in after the doors have been shut is the sound of the waves crashing against the old seawall outside the building.

Our lives are made up of songs. Tiny, minute, musical fragments scattered in the ether. Maybe it's Fiona Apple singing that 'I think he let me down/when he didn't disappoint me', Aretha Franklin letting us know that 'when my soul was in the lost and found/you came along to claim it' or Mick Jaggger whispering 'Angie, Angie, where will it lead us from here?/Oh, Angie, dont you weep, all your kisses still taste sweet/I hate that sadness in your eyes'. What we can't deny is that we have chosen tracks at some point in our lives that inform our present state of mind. Elation and despair, it's all part of the transaction in which we enter once we strike up that partnership with Miss Music and sign on the dotted line.

But what happens when we turn our stereos, CD players and iPods off? I'll tell you what happens, we allow the original Killer Opening Song in: nature itself.

During K.O.S. recent sojourn in Cuba, our weekly Introductory Album Track was exposed to the elements in the two hotels at which it stayed. In Havana, it lodged across from Malecon, the seawall that has come to signify so much in Cuba's past and contemporary history. In Ancón, the sea was less than one hundred yards away, its surface flat like a spaceship, and friendly as E.T.

Every morning and night it would be the sea the first and last sound K.O.S. heard on waking up and going to bed respectively. Every time it was a different sound, a different language, a different lyric. Neither Van Morrison, nor Santiago Feliú have the sine qua non to compete against Mamá Natura's spontaneous creative output.

That's why this post is dedicated to the ultimate Killer Opening Song: the sea. But if you don't live anywhere near it, then think of the rustle of dry leaves, the drum-roll of the river and the splash of the spring rain drenching you in its melody. Enjoy cows' low bass notes and birds singing, above all, enjoy nature, for it has the best music to offer and when you come back home, give Stevie Wonder's 'The Secret Life of Plants' another listen. It'll be worth it, I promise:

I can't conceive the nucleus of all/Begins inside a tiny seed/And what we think as insignificant/Provides the purest air we breathe/But who am I to doubt or question the inevitable being/For these are but a few discoveries/We find inside the Secret Life of Plants

A species smaller than the eye can see/Or larger than most living things/And yet we take from it without consent/Our shelter, food, habiliment/But who am I to doubt or question the inevitable being/For these are but a few discoveries /We find inside the Secret Life of Plants

But far too many give them in return/A stomp, cut, drown, or burn/As is they're nothing/But if you ask yourself where would you be/Without them you will find you would not

And some believe antennas are their leaves/That spans beyond our galaxyThey've been, they are and probably will be/Who are the mediocrity/But who am I to doubt or question the inevitable being/For these are but a few discoveries/We find inside the Secret Life of Plants/For these are but a few discoveries/We find inside the Secret Life of Plants

Ancon Peninsula, southern Cuba, February 2009. Photo by the blog's author

Archive

Killer Opening Songs (D'Angelo's Brown Sugar)
Killer Opening Songs (Sinéad O'Connor's 'Fire on Babylon')
Killer Opening Songs (Queen's Mustapha)
Killer Opening Songs (Caetano Veloso-Haiti)
Killer Opening Songs (David Bowie - Unwashed and S...
Killer Opening Songs (Massive Attack - Safe From H...
Killer Opening Songs (Bob Brozman)
Killer Opening Songs (Vanessa da Mata - Vermelho)
Killer Opening Songs (The Beatles-Help!)
Killer Opening Songs (Souad Massi-Raoui)
Killer Opening Songs (Habib Koité - Batoumambé)
Killer Opening Songs (Mary Black - No Frontiers)
Killer Opening Songs (Chico Buarque & Milton Nasci...
Killer Opening Songs (David Gilmour - Shine On You...
Killer Opening Songs (Ernesto Lecuona - 'La Compar...
Killer Opening Songs (Chopin 'Fantaisie-Impromptu ...
Killer Opening Songs (He Loves Me by Jill Scott)
Killer Opening Songs (Tracy Chapman - Talkin' 'bout A Revolution)
Killer Opening Songs (Patti Smith - Gloria)
Killer Opening Song (Silvio Rodriguez - Canción del Elegido
Killer Opening Songs (Nirvana - Smells Like Teen Spirit)
Killer Opening Songs (Fela Kuti and Jethro Tull - Jam Session)
Killer Opening Songs (Sting - A Thousand Years)
Killer Opening Songs (Rodrigo y Gabriela - Tamacun)
Killer Opening Songs (Susheela Raman - Ganapati)

Killer Opening Songs (Aziza Mustafa Zadeh - Always)

Copyright 2009

Friday, 11 July 2008

Road Songs (Fiesta) 2nd Part

Let it be known that a year ago today just as I was about to finish my driving test the examiner asked me to pull over and uttered the magic words: 'Congratulations, you have passed'. To say that I was over the moon would be putting it too mildly as this had been my fifth attempt to overcome this hurdle. And no, I was not a novice behind the wheel, I just did not have a valid licence, only a temporary one. Without that moment, though, this weekly column would not exist. It was the desire to share with fellow bloggers and readers the music I listened to whilst on the road that led me to begin a series that has been welcomed by all of you and that now comes to an end unfortunately (sniff, sniff). Sporadically I will do special 'one-offs' (like an autumn's hootenanny, for instance) but no more 'Road Songs' extravaganza. Which does not mean that I will stop now listening to good music whilst driving through the streets of London or any other city, village or town. Contrariwise, m'lud, I vow to carry on. I've picked some columns from this long series; they are not my favourite ones, there are no favourite ones because I love them all, but I just chose some at random.

The Beginning

The Pleasure of Reversing

The Joy of Uphill Starts

The Mechanics of Driving

So, which performers have I invited for my farewell party? Well, have a butcher's at the playlist below and pick up what you like (Note: butcher's is a Cockney rhyming slang word, butcher's hook=look)

Nitin Sawhney & Sharon Duncan - Eastern Eyes
So Flute - St. Germain
Faith Evans - Love Like This (live )
Manu Chao - Clandestino (live)
Afro Blue -Mongo Santamaria
Chico Buarque - Vai Passar
Stevie Wonder - Superstition (live)
Agua-Los Van Van



Copyright 2008

Tuesday, 3 June 2008

Food, Music, Food, Music, Food, Music, Food, Music, Ad Infinitum...

Before going any further I must declare an expression of interest. I am nuts about nuts. I am very fond of prawns. And lemon rice is ever so nice. So, there you have it. If you read more any recipes in this space containing the above ingredients it is because I am very, very, very biased. Extremely biased. And I do not care one jot.

The dish below comes courtesy of Vicky Bhogal, a British Asian woman who has done a lot to raise the profile of South Asian cuisine in the UK. Her passion for cooking owes a lot to her mother, who, apparently, instilled the same type of devotion for food preparation in her daughter. Vicky's intention is to replicate many of the recipes that her mother used to make when Vicky was younger.

Cashew, prawn, brazil nut and lemon rice

This is dinner party food. It is also comfort food that is as virtuous as it is heart-warming. You just put everything in the pan together, quickly stir-fry, add water, steam and voilà, there you have it! These quantities make enough for two, so double them if you're cooking for four, or six, or eight, or the whole troop. Note to readers: I tend to cheat a little bit and add more nuts such as: hazelnuts, chestnuts, peanuts... the list goes on. Refer to the first line. I am nuts about nuts.

2 tbsp mild and light olive oil
1 tsp cumin seeds
½ onion thinly sliced
Zest from 1 lemon
250g cooked and peeled prawns
2 tomatoes, diced
1 handful fresh coriander, chopped
75g cashew nuts
60g toasted brazil nuts, chopped
1 tsp dried red chilli flakes
½ teaspoon salt
100g basmati rice, washed until the water runs clear, drained
250ml water

Heat the oil in a pan and add the cumin. When sizzling, add the onion and lemon zest and fry until translucent. Add the prawns, tomatoes, coriander, cashews, brazils, chilli and salt, and stir-fry for 30 seconds. Then add the rice and stir-fry for a further 30 seconds.

Now add the water, bring up to a boil, turn down the heat to very low, cover and steam for 15 minutes. Once cooked, graze the rice gently with a fork, to loosen the grains, and serve piping hot.

Playlist. It goes without saying that the music has to be as sizzling as the dish. These are my suggestions:

Oscar Peterson - Honeysuckle Rose
Karen Dalton - When a Man Loves a Woman
Souad Massi - Yemma
Janis Joplin - Me and Bobby McGee
Stevie Wonder - Higher Ground
Bob Dylan - Subterranean Homesick Blues
Los Van Van - Dale Dos
Baaba Maal - African Woman



Copyright 2008

Wednesday, 12 March 2008

Road Songs (Sonata)


Thursday 6th March. 8.30am. A street in London. I am driving the children to school. My wife's gone to Italy with Creative Partnerships and it's up to me to do the school run whilst she is away. I roll down the car window to let in some air, just a couple of inches, mind, and then it hits me. Spring's here. Well, almost.

It's a bright morning and the British birds' Commonwealth anthem is at full blast. Their singing accompanies the fluttering of wings. They look so busy, building or re-building their nests up in eaves.

The morning wind caresses my face. It is not a warm breeze yet, oh, no, but it is not a freezing one either. It is a chilly air, pleasant enough for me to withstand its strokes with a smile on my face. Outside, kids rush to school, cars zoom past, buses cut in in front of me. But inside, I am radiating the type of energy which, if discovered, could see me persecuted by countless thugs trying to patent it and sell it.

Streets curve seductively out of sight, houses stand tall and proud with binding ivy weaving its way around the building and people go to work carrying their sandwiches and newspapers, some of them with ciggies in hand.

On days like these, I remain silent and let the music in the car do the talking.

What if Dylan was booed during this performance at the Newport Festival? Try listening to this song with the wind sneaking into the car early in the morning and giving you that pleasant, mirthful feeling that everything is going to turn out all right, because you know what? I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more. Everytime this track comes on, my fingers work out a drumbeat on the steering wheel and the whole car merrily swings side to side. Poetic.



I have referred previously on this blog to my need sometimes to have a song telling a story playing in the car. And this track, composed by the Argentinian pop singer Juan Carlos Baglietto about God and the Devil working together in a workshop, fits me like a glove. A real jewel. Magnífico.



Many times I catch myself humming a song with political or social undertones in the car. Not surprisingly, more often than not it is a track by Maestro Stevie. This belongs to an era when musicians were allowed to roam free unencumbered by commercial pressures or record sales. Nostalgic.



In this song, as soon as the guitar kicks in, the car window goes down and my hands relax their grip on the steering wheel. No need for introduction here. Majestic.



Do not be fooled by the title of this track. There's no ire in this song, it's just about how we should all take it easy in life and days like these inspire me to follow Cerys' edict. Husky.



© 2008

Wednesday, 2 January 2008

Road Songs (Larghissimo)

Last Sunday 23rd December as the heaviest fog I have ever seen in this country in my ten years living here descended upon London the first question that occurred to me was: What music would I be listening to if I was driving in this weather? Not that I would have been very keen to experiment going out in the car just to put a couple of tracks on. The fog started at around 2pm and a couple of hours later it was so dense that I could not even see outside my own window.

However, as I mentioned before, music did come into my mind right there and then and the first track that I would have chosen if I had been trapped in that big misty cloud last weekend would have been any song by Elis Regina's daughter, Maria Rita. It is a big burden on the young shoulders of the progeny of the woman many people consider to have been the best Brazilian singer ever. Yet, she performs this song with such aplomb and gusto that on a foggy day she would be my number one choice.



Fog also smacks of smokiness and dim lights. Recently I came across this singer for the first time whilst watching a programme on BBC Four. She reminds me of jazz bars and folk venues. Ciggies, booze and nodding heads. Her voice touches the surface of the Earth like a cloudy mist that wants to get closer to the ground and its density goes in crescendo as the song carries on. Enjoy.



Of course, that I would not like to go out on a foggy day unless absolutely necessary. This post deals only with what would happen if I was to find myself in the midst of one and with enough musical arsenal to defend myself from the lack of visibility. And wonderful Stevie is good for any day, but this track would definitely lift my spirits up and help me brave the weather.



Even if the Notting Hill Carnival, the biggest celebration of that nature in Europe, was taking place whilst I was driving in a fog as thick as the one I witnessed the other day, my perception of the world outside the car would still be one of total silence. And I would like to close this week's session with one of the better songs ever written by two of the more charismatic performers the folk and pop world has ever begotten.



And this is all for this week. Happy Fogless New Year!

Copyright 2007

Thursday, 5 July 2007

Music for Mind and Body


I have a confession to make. Up until 1996, the only Stevie Wonder I knew was the 'I Just Called to Say I Loved You' and 'Ebony and Ivory' guy. It's alright, you can stop laughing now. Because I knew the words to the former song I was suddenly flavour of the month, probably even of the year in my school (remember, this was Cuba in the 80s, foreign music took ages to get to us, if it ever did!) and this even got me brownie points amongst the members of the opposite sex. And when you're 13, every little helps. Anyway, it wasn't until I met my wife, Suzette Rocca, that the real work by this talented musician finally reached me. Innervisions, Talking Book and Songs in the Key of Life were my introduction to the genius of Stevland Hardaway Judkins. But what was it that really attracted me about Stevie's music? Well, there're his skills at playing pretty much any instrument. There's also his knack at writing songs. Yet, what came out on top of all that for me was his musicianship, and I mean that in the broadest sense. Listening to a tune like Living for the City made me realise that you could be socially conscious whilst at the same time building up a tune of so many different components so as to totally overawe the audience. It's the togetherness and cohesion that do it for me. It's Sheila Wilkerson in Don't You Worry 'Bout a Thing and Willie Weeks in He's Mistra Know-It-All. This is then replicated in Songs in the Key of Life where As has become at least to this Cuban the sweetest love song ever with the best instrumental solo you can listen to on this side of heaven. Shame that Mary J Blige and George Michael left it out in their cover version. And that's what I like about music from the 'good ol' days'. The bassline of 'The Ghetto' by Donny Hathaway wherepoun you could pretty much build another musical Empire State Building. Or Mongo Santamaría's 'AfroBlue' where, as the percussion subsides, the horns take over slowly, softly and rhythmically, always in crescendo until the song reaches a delirious apotheosis you can only dream about. And listen to.
So, to sum up, tonight I just wanted to honour one of the little wonders of the musical world, especially in moments like the ones we're living now when rampant commercialism ravages and loots what's left of talent in the music industry.
Copyright 2007

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