National Heroes ~ Singing Shady, Happy Hour

Malaysia and Indonesia have very similar national languages, so you’d think that our music'd be similar, right? Wrong! I mean I love home (specifically this part of Borneo, Land of The Headhunters and largest state of Malaysia yo!) but there're very very few Malaysian musicians I care to listen to. The late Sudirman was pretty awesome. Manbai's old stuff is pretty good. HHmmm can't think of anyone else. But ask any of my homies and they'll tell just how much I adore Indonesian music. Especially Dygta, AdaBand, Peter Pan, and my all-time-fave, Sheila On 7. If you've never heard of Sheila On 7 but clicked on the link, I should proli' warn you that even though most of their compositions sing poetic justice with underlying (and sometimes double) meaning, the band uses a lot of humour in their videos (another reason why I love them - they're deep but don't bother to seem deep!).

Why do Malaysian musicians always go on and on about infidelity and broken hearts? Haven’t any of them had broken dreams? Broken homes? Loss of a loved one? Seen the repercussions of drug abuse? Why is (nearly) everything about boy-girl love? And in the rare occasion that it isn’t, why are the lyrics always so bloody literal i.e. I hate you I love you I hate you etc. Blergghh. 

Then I think, don’t be too hard on them (not US okay; I may be Malaysian but I’m not a rockstar!). Yes I have a theory (if you’re not interested or you don’t agree or if I piss you off then go ahead and cuss, I can’t see you anyway). My opinion lah –  with Indonesia as a case study – after all the hardship Indonesia has seen, is it any wonder that their artistes have a more mature approach to poetry and lyrics (compulsory music lessons embedded into their educational system aside)? That they aren’t ashamed to sing of poverty, and that they so love their country they write whole sonnets about going home (where ‘home’ could mean anything from a home no longer in existence, to a state of nation-normalcy; not just ‘balik kampong’!)? In Anne of Green Gables (volume 1), Gilbert (or was it Marilla?) criticizes Anne’s first attempt at getting book-published, chastising her for writing about glorious, fictional, characters – instead of writing about what she truly knows; Avonlea. Eventually she gets to it (after Gilbert nearly dies). Hah. Lesson learnt.

The late Yasmin Ahmad knew this well. What a fine example of a Malaysian she was! Who would have known that a festive wish from an oil  and gas company in the form of a TVC could move a nation to tears?

My fave of all  Yasmin's productions. Original version has voiceover, but I prefer this one.

Yet still, our “stars” continue to *bling* with pedantic prose. Which brings me to the crux of the matter (again, just my opinion lah): MALAYSIA IS ESSENTIALLY A HAPPY NATION. This generation has little to complain about (thank God, rap on wood). Those with real tragedy in their lives aren’t telling. Which is why our words echo shallow next to those of our neighbour's in song; it isn’t our fault we’re lame! (Another epiphany!!) This is what we know. Our tragedies are minor in comparison. Being ditched by his ex is proli’ the worst thing that’s ever happened to a Malaysian singer. Don’t hate him; this was his tragedy.

"Happiness is not having what you want, but wanting what you have." ~ Rabbi H. Schactel

But Malaysia – can we please stop being so lame and take a leaf out of Yasmin’s book? Why doesn’t anyone sing any happy songs? Think about it – the birth of a child? An inspiring mentor? A significant moment alone? A perfect day? A best friend? An epiphany? And when a few good souls actually make an effort, why doesn’t he/she get more airtime? What glory is there in songs about two-timing jerks? If it did happen to you, why remind yourself? Amputate losers and move on I say!

I'm not dark and mysterious. I have no hidden agendas. I have no tragic past. I suffer from no childhood scars (except the two from the stitches on my chin and knee, but don’t worry I won’t sing about how I fell while playing jadi!). I'm just your average grunge guru who happens to have a penchant for sleeping, reading and writing. That I was, in an ironic twist of fate, pulled by the forces-that-be to be part of the corporate circus (instead of being a perpetually stoned pop-punk songwriter I should have been humph) is proli' why sometimes I get a bit edgy. I’ve never been able to write much poetry from my own experience – the few that I’ve penned were inspired by oldskool soldiers who had real deep, meaningful , sometimes tragic, fears and issues. And though I don’t write as much as I used to; I promise that if you tell me your story and move me enough, I’ll try my best to do your story justice. Whether it’s inspiring, happy or sad. 

So writing on what I know.. I know I’m thankful for my family and friends. I’m thankful that ye' Old House is still standing. I'm thankful for good health. I’m thankful I get paid to do something I enjoy.  I'm thankful for Sheila On 7. I’m thankful I’m Malaysian. And I’m thankful that I’m happy.

happy National Day in advance, for 31 August 2010

Mind Metronome, Heart Palindrome

"Nothing in the universe can travel at the speed of light, they say, forgetful of the shadow's speed" ~ Howard Nemerov

I took piano lessons for 7 years, and got a metronome in the 4th. I remember it cost my parents RM150 in 1994 (query: how much does a metronome cost now?). Pricey for a tempo control device; but useful? HHmmm... subjective. While it kept me in check, I remember how edgy I felt whenever I used it for allegro agitato pieces. Over time I learnt to block out the grating edge and my hands would just sort of move with the rhythmic tick-tock'ing in the background.  Sometimes I'd even play blindly, by heart, in perfect time. Other times I'd go on and on and on, till I hit a false note. And then the metronome's beat would scream back into focus, overwhelming everything else - and I'd have trouble recovering from the stumble, lost in a page of squiggly black notes. I liken the feeling to being on autopilot, moving with uncontrolled speed, all the time barely missing passing obstacles, fearing a crash yet loving the satisfaction of reaching the finish line unscathed when I successfully did.

It's been a long time since I've really played the piano.. Sure I fiddle with Fur Elise and Evanescence pieces once in a blue moon; but I can't remember the last time I set up the metronome and crazily hammered out Turkish March. 

While my music skills have waned, I do still, however, sometimes feel like there's a metronome keeping time in the background. It's an odd sensation - you can be going about doing whatever it is you're doing, oblivious to the world and stupidly happy when  a nagging sense of urgency suddenly creeps on you, edging you on to dodge bullets, to go faster, to do better, to beat time. It makes you uncomfortable - probably because you can't find any obvious reasons that make it wrong -  and its also addictive. To see if you can. To prove that you can. Fearing the repercussions if you don't or can't, but at the same time not really caring what happens as long as you try. No obvious reasons I said. Obvious reasons. Obvious being the keyword. Because it sometimes is wrong.

"Be wise with speed, a fool at forty is a fool indeed"  ~Edward Young

Maybe we're reading it wrong (or maybe I am), but could it be possible that time doesn't want us to speed up, but to slow down? Perhaps this strange sense of urgency is God's way of telling us to savour the moment (of aforesaid unexplainable stupid happiness) before something really time-pressing (like a 1200 word article due out tomorrow!) cuts our stupid  little happy moment with a well sharpened time-killing knife in half?

An epiphany if you will. I came to realise that nobody can slow down my metronome but me, which is how I came to pace myself. To not curse at a traffic jam, but to enjoy the setting sun while I wait for the light to change (I have pictures; will upload them someday heh). To swallow impatience at a bank queue and to check out their latest ad campaigns (got some good ideas for work there). To feed the angry hissing stray cat that lurks in my back yard (he left me a dead rat once; sweet!!). To enjoy my 7 and 9 year-old nieces arguments instead of trying to get them to stop fighting (as long as they don't hit each other, they can be damn funny!). 

 "A circle is the reflection of eternity. It has no beginning and it has no end - and if you put several circles over each other, then you get a spiral."~ Maynard James Keenan

Running is inevitable (if you want to keep your job that is) but try not to run too fast. Life is a circle. Things happen for a reason. Sometimes  for not the reason we think. Two halves can be perfectly symmetrical, mirror images; but see ~ they don't face the same way. If they did, they wouldn't fit. 

Unless of course, they're squares.  Which is why maybe it's time to bend the circle to a fitting shape. Another epiphany. Maybe if I stand still the answers will come. Maybe it's time to stop racing. No I'm not 40. And I'm not  going to sit still for long. I'm just resting before the next race.  But this time I'm bringing a camera ; catch me if you can.