We Went to IIT - Kanpur, Calcutta, Delhi ...

 

[A chance glance at a photograph in the mess that is my memorabilia box, a call from Arka Chakraborty, a PhD scholar, who is doing some homework on the music of Calcutta, caused this memory to be jogged. I hope I remember the names correctly.  To be fair, the motley crew above represented the entire contingent of the gang that represented St Xavier's at the Fest at IIT-Kanpur in 1976 as the back of the pic reminds me. More below. But first the pic of the back of the photo sent to me by our Fearless Leader Nitin V Kotak (pictured with the Overall Trophy in his lap).]  

The College years were the best years. Apart from the impressive learning we underwent, there was a lot that one could do inside and outside the canteen, the Park Street cemetery and occasionally a stage or two.

College Fests were the opportunity to showcase talent whether one had it or not. And so the College Western Band, for lack of a more creative title, went from stage to stage winning accolades, trophies and occasional brickbats from sore losers.

Of course, as the picture indicates, this all had to go through the "cultural council" though the priests who ran the institution were loathe to call our music anywhere near culture. 

Our band had a core team of four who kind of overlapped the years 1973-1978 (since a couple of us managed to hang around doing the B.Ed and getting our ID cards stamped). On lead guitar, rolling on the floor, picking with his teeth, was James Carvey (seated leftmost).  He did all that in this particular event in 1976. On drums, or what was left of them after the session, was Kenneth Bell (standing second from right). He had the uncanny knack of demolishing drum sets while enlisting me (sitting extreme right) to hold up cymbal stands with a knee while providing an almost steady bass. Lead singer Les Gabriel (standing rightmost) was soundly rebuked for attempting to swing the microphone a la Roger Daltrey.  But the trophy sitting atop Nitin's head, held by Roly, was the hefty contribution of dimunitive Bertie da Silva (standing leftmost) with his one-man band, blues harp, guitar, guitar surface for occasional kahon taps, and his amazing compositions.

James went to Canada, Kenneth and Les G went to Australia and Bertie and I stayed in Calcutta in academics:  BD-Sir of St Xavier's College (Eng Hons) and LDG of St Xavier's Collegiate School.  All of us continue to play music in some way or the other in our respective zones. 

The music the band played ranged from good old Beatles rock-n-roll to some Grand Funk Railroad and lighter stuff like the Eagles.  College fests used to be for punchy beats, thumping bass and screaming lead guitar.  Vocal harmonies from Les & Les added colour to the music and added points to the trophies.

The overall shield, as you might be wondering, was the sum of the activity by all of us in the picture. Some guys (can't recall all names) had represented us in Eastern music, some in Debate, some in JAM, and then there was this gap, where there was no one to participate in Impromptu Mime. Kenneth and I hastily put together a mime for the topic "One Day in Queue" - we got totally booed off the stage. But we might have added a point or two to that shield. 

In this particular Kanpur fest I recall the Band overshot its time limit by a couple of songs ... like true professional musicians we had been egged on by the crowd!  Like true professional losers the other colleges demanded that we be scratched from the competition as we had exceeded the time limit (Rule 23a or whatever). One of the judges came up to the stage and told the crowd that the judges had had a discussion and overruled the objection as "Xavier's had won from the first piece they played".  We were then asked to come back on stage and play a few more numbers while the pro band from Calcutta was getting ready to rock the night away.  That's when, during the finale, the drumkit fell apart. 

I recall hiding shyly in the background while 'dudes' like Miti Adhikari the bassist from Mahamaya and a classmate of mine in Eng Hons, reviewed the band. No Google, No YouTube.  We had to make up our own lyrics from cassette tapes and scratchy vinyls, but they got drowned in the bad mixes that we played through!  And James might have had a prized Wah-Fuzz pedal which was wrapped in layers of cloth whenever it had to be packed - not a touch on the table-sized pedal-boards of today.  

Looking back, I think we were nowhere near the best but our hearts were in the right place.

Pipes, Reeds and Synthezisers

Image: James Smith Pixabay

[I haven't taken their permission but this piece would look suspect without the names of real people.  One hopes that these remembrances will stand as respect to the people named here. Some of these people are no longer with us, may their souls rest in peace.  Please message me or leave a comment in the post.]

This year I missed Iris Castillo's alto solo that celebrates O Little Town of Bethlehem. I missed Richard D'Souza, Peter Remedios and David Etto enacting We Three Kings of Orient Are in voice.  I missed Florence Gonsalves handing out the lyric sheets every rehearsal.  I missed Maria and the soup, Paula and the snacks and Romayne's facial expression.  We all missed choirmaster Dion Francis swinging his arms valiantly to bring tempo and expression to the choir at St Xavier's Chapel - a choir which is affectionately and permanently known as Fr Boris' Choir, after Fr Boris D'Santos who ran it for several years.  As a 'noob' organist, inducted a few years ago, I had to imbibe the cultural ethos of the choir over Easter, Christmas and a few special days in between.  This got me thinking about my journey in music that began with the church. 

Gospel Music

If you are looking through YouTube for advice on how to play a keyboard or guitar, you will surely come across a plethora of videos that advertise "play church music instantly".  Why is church music such a popular place to start?  Perhaps it goes back to the roots of music which invariably began in religious chants and worship.  Or perhaps it's just easier to teach music through well-known, dog-eared hymns and traditional music that are ingrained in one's soul?

My earliest encounter with the 'choirmaster' concept was in St Xavier's, in Class 4A, under the baton of Ms Pauline Peterson! Under the baton was preferable to being under the swinging four-finger salute for which she was known (and eventually loved)!  Training the choir was her passion.  The song was "Bless this House".  We were going to perform on stage for the Annual Concert - rouge, lipstick et al.  Practice was going well till I hit a note that was so far off the music sheet that I had to face the one-eyebrow-lifted stare for a good twenty seconds.  After that, whenever the dreaded note came around, one eye on the choirmaster, I soundlessly opened my mouth and faked it.

Reeds and Reedy Voices

But this post is about various kinds of church organs that I had come across in my days of singing and playing for various choirs.  The first was when, as a young lad, I was packed off to join the choir at the newly opened St Mary's Church Ripon Street.  We were taught our paces by Fr Eric Conquo - he had a trusty violin with which we were taught the notes.  My memory plays tricks here, but I believe his brother was the organist for awhile.

The first organ I got to play was a little more than a sophisticated Harmonium on steroids.  It had reeds driving the sound and two pedals to keep the bellows from gasping.  There were secrets we had to learn.  For example, no matter what the tempo, your feet kept moving at the same pace pumping air into the bellows.  The only way you could control volume was with your knee.  You pressed outwards on a lever to increase the volume, which was a simple flap that opened and expelled more air!  We quickly learnt that if you played more than three or four notes, the bellows starved and your crescendo descended to a whimper.  And the sound? Well, sophisticated harmonium, if you're generous. 

Knowing the Score

My mum and dad took over the administration, and a bit of the singing, of the St Mary's Senior Choir.  That intimidating name housed some of the most beautiful laps I have ever sat upon. Well, not literally.  But I learnt to read music -- or at best follow the ups and downs on a score sheet -- and I learnt to be the official page-turner for my cousin, Allen Fernandes, the organist. I also learnt, by observation, how to play one of those devices with two separate registers, bass pedals, and a volume control on the right foot.  Our conductor, the now world-famous Clarence Barlow, had ears that could pick out a "flat E flat" from a healthy E flat in a group of choristers trying their best.  It was here I first heard of SATB and realized that my dad's vinyls of Barber Shop Favourites was nothing by Soprano Alto Tenor and Bass, and that too a capella.

My voice broke -- somewhere between the altos and tenors, it started alternating.  But I was such a good choir boy (I used to pick up and stack all the music after hours) that they never let me go.  A brace of congas on a tripod appeared and we evolved into what was disparagingly called the "beat mass" by the traditionalists.  I did some time keeping time but I never really made it back into the singing fraternity, S, A, T or B.  I did get the special advantage of being allowed to play the Lowrey organ described earlier.  I filled in.  Whenever an organist was required at some inopportune moment, a message arrived at Southwind Mansions, "Send Leslie to play for a wedding on Saturday" or something similar.  That Lowrey organ was my addiction. It functioned on tubes or valves, needed regular care by Mr Manuk on Free School Street, and eventually gave up the ghost.  In all those years, I found ways to play it and make it sing.

Clarence left for Germany to pursue composing and conducting music.  The beat mass stayed.  Allen passed away very unfortunately.  The SATB gave way to voices who now sang "seconds" usually hitting high thirds and sevenths in tenors that would make a soprano blush. 

The Children's Choir sang the morning 7:15 mass on Sundays, rehearsed on Thursdays (school holidays in those days), and regularly went on picnics and house-to-house carol singing.  I ran that choir for many years as many readers will remember.  I was also playing the bass guitar on Saturday nights at the Calcutta Swimming Club, walking home after midnight and splashing cold water on my face to wake up for mass on Sunday.  For awhile I did two back-to-back masses a day.  7:15 was followed by 8:30 with the Senior Choir where I played the congas!  And then Debbie Saldanha took over the Children's Choir. 

Pipes, Bells and Whistles

The first time I ever played a pipe organ was for the wedding of my good friends Charles and Jacquie Mantosh at the Catholic Cathedral at Baithakhana.  They had asked for John Denver's Sunshine on my shoulder to be played after communion.  The challenges, as I recall, were many.  For one thing, it's not easy to play anything while looking over your shoulder, sunshine or not.  These pipe organs faced away from the altar, so to see what was going on, one had to have a large mirror installed.  Then you needed to watch the priests in lateral inversion while playing from a music book perched a yard away (there were 2 or 3 keyboards and multiple knobs and handles in between).  Learning the names of those knobs (called Stops) and handles (called Couplers) was the least of the problem.  They had stuff written on them in Latin!   It's probably the only time that I pulled the "piano" stop to find the sound drop.  Pianissimo I was told meant "soft".  I do recall playing the pipe organ at Sacred Heart Church Dharamtala (when it wasn't sliced in two horizontally).  That organ had an interesting extra -- there was a guy whose job it was to 'pump' the bellows using something suspiciously like a chappakol or handpump. He had to start before breakfast so that there was enough air in the bellows before the organists arrived to let it out.  And occasional holes in the bellows produced an interesting orchestration of wheezes and whistles to accompany the pipes.

Pianissimo, our Forté

Then one day, at a funeral in St Xavier's Chapel, I was commandeered from the congregation to accompany the choir.  After the funeral I was propositioned by the choir to play for them for Easter. And then by the Rector to play for the First Vows of some young priests. By now I had "degenerated" to a Yamaha electronic keyboard where I safely used the Piano button and played very pianissimo - no beats, no congas, and often it was free time.  Our forté in Fr Boris' choir is, I believe, the ability to keep things soft, meaningful, traditional and solemn.  And this is what I missed most while attending online mass at midnight this Christmas. 

[As published in Calcutta Connect Around the World on Facebook on December 28, 2020]

Wedding Season for Wannabe Musicians

Image by Luc Mahler from Pixabay

[This nearly started out with the title "Wannabe Musicians of Calcutta 16 - Part 2", to be published in the Facebook Group CCATW.  However, that space is now occupied, most effectively, by Cyrus Vesuvala, in his Architectural Notes. Cyrus was from Calcutta 16 too. So, I got to thinking about some of the functions for which the local bands used to be "booked" - we never used the word "hired". Since December was the wedding season back then too, this post will focus on our experiences in the wedding bands. Enjoy, share, comment.]

Here Comes the Bride

Sitting at the Lowrey organ (a cheaper version of the Hammond) in St Mary's Choir loft, I was desperately practising the sequences for the wedding when my trusty scout signalled the arrival of the bride. The groom was, of course, as nervous as anything in the front row, stealing backward glances at the door.  Using both hands on two keyboards and my left foot on the bass pedals, I struck up the tune of Here comes the Bride, occasionally stealing downward glances from the choir loft at the agonizingly painful goosesteps she was taking, as though prolonging the groom's agony of anticipation.  In the months of June and December, and a few assorted months thrown in for good measure, this was often the case with the choir organists.

There goes the Bride!

Till the bitter end we had to stay.  It was our duty to ensure the newly weds left the church to the lofty sounds of Mendelssohn's Wedding March.  As the church reverberated with the rich pipe organ sounds, a few ladies piped a tear, not to mention the few guys who, when it was announced "you may now kiss the bride", lined up hopefully in the aisle.  In between Here Comes and There Goes, the usual assortment of wedding hymns were occasionally hijacked by Budda-boy or Buddi-girl doing a "special number" for the bridal couple -- quite often "You by my side" or "She wears my ring".  Lovingly watched by the upturned eyes from the nave of the church, and sometimes a furtive glance at the wristwatch (by the Priest), they belted it out till the last syllable.  And then it was all over, except for the photographs of the families -- extended and appendages growing by the minute.

Snatch, Grab and Run

This is precisely the diversion we double-crossers were looking for.  I say double crossers because some of us in dual roles had to cross over from being the pious church organist to the footloose fiends on stage as The Wedding Band.  Speaking for myself, I would slam the lid on the organ, snatch my bass guitar, grab a quick cup of tea (and sometimes a singara) and then run to the hall in time to set up for the Wedding March there!  Till I got my trusty Royal Enfield (another blog coming up) I had to skip down to the tram tracks and grab a tram going in one of two directions.  South towards Christ the King Parish Hall or North towards Esplanade from where The Calcutta Rangers Club was a hop, step and slide.  If we were really lucky we might have the reception at the Grail Club on Park Street - in which case we walked down.  The proper thing that the newly weds were expected to do was to "go for a drive" -- a ritual that took them around the Victoria Memorial, down Queensway, around the race course, down Red Road with a possible detour via home to be wished by some derelict relative who couldn't make it to the hall.  Then there was a stopover for the posed wedding photograph, at National Photographic Studio on Marquis Street or Indian Art Studio on Ripon Street (or Bourne & Shepard, or Bombay Photo Studio for the very well stocked).  All this gave us musicians the chance to reach the hall well in time, be given the drill by the MC and tune up in time for the Wedding March.

Image by Alf Holm from Pixabay

Bands of Marriage

At this point, I must comment on the bands that were usually around to be booked for the wedding season.  When negotiating for the job, one of the most common questions was, "How many piece band are you?"  This answer, carefully expressed, with embellishments extolling the virtue of the number of pieces you were, could have a profound impact on the "rate" you were paid.  There were the "foo foo" bands, so called because they had saxophones or trumpets.  They usually included some sprightly uncles who knew the sequences well. They charged more.  The 20-piece bands that marched down from Mahatma Gandhi road were officially the Foo Foo Bands but that's yet another story.

At the other end of the spectrum were the "too few" bands -- three guys who modeled themselves on Grand Funk Rail Railroad or Cream depending on how loud they were.  I think most weddings preferred the 5-piece band which included a pianist and a "crooner" - necessarily female, acceptably easy on the eye, to cater to that line of oglers we talked about in the church.  The three-guy bands desperately tried to convince the wedding planner that "three is cheaper" while the seven-piece bands demonstrated safety in numbers.  In the good old days it was common to find the sax player sneaking onto the dancefloor during a romantic number while the other six laboured on. Maybe they took it in turns, all but the bass player and drummer.

The Best Man and the Best Band

But eventually the band that had a pianist who could hit up a Mendelssohn version of the wedding march with its weird starting chords, generally won the day.  The guitar bands could get away with the C, G7, F version, but the piano players had to hit that Am6-B7 combo.  That was the signal for the merriment to begin.  From busting the bell at the door to cutting the four- tier cake (it was four edible, sliceable layers guys, I know I'm prehistoric, but it did happen); from the Wedding March to Congratulations, and celebrations;  from the First Dance (She wears my ring, unavoidably) to the wishing (some nondescript instrumental stuff which some bands called Jazz); it was all a standard formula.  In between, of course, the MC -- nowadays called the emcee for reasons I can only guess -- would crack his carefully rehearsed ad lib jokes about the bride and groom.  Polite titters would be followed by obvious jitters as the Best Man (not usually the best speaker) would proceed to pull his speech out of his sleeve and read it off the cuff as it were. The band was on an amusement break while the toast was raised and the photographers got the happy couple to intertwine their arms, sip wine, each from an exquisite glass, without a drop cascading down a cleavage.  

Music, Food, Drink and Love

Shakespeare obviously got it wrong -- music and love are remotely connected, no doubt but it was left to the band to make things happen (under the watchful eye of the MC, now you know why he was called that).  Bands were even given credit points based on how they handled the action.  There was the slow dance, the jiving, the cha cha, the waltz.  And each of these were often in the form of a medley which had seasoned dancers twirl across the floor in circles. These circles would sometimes clear for the bride and groom to show off the exhibition dances.  Why else were they at the dance school the last six months? 

And then the emcee would clear the decks for the Throwing of the Bridal Bouquet - a ritual which is expected to let the Hand of Fate decide who will be the next bride.  The emcee played that hand of fate having been tipped off by Cupid's little helpers in advance.  The bride's well-bound eyes were hardly required as the emcee skillfully turned her around and then pointed her in the direction of Cousin Marcie a pre-selected maid of marriageable age, whom everyone expected to be selected.  The poor Groom was next, buttonholed into giving away his buttonhole. The ring of eligible bachelors always outnumbered the young maidens, as a few oft-married types hoped to win yet again.  But tradition gave way to raucous ribaldry as the group tried to attack the groom in the Nether-lands.  Emcees sometimes got the worst of it, is all I can say.  The band did nothing to help, playing up-tempo stuff like Valderi Valdera and other marching songs from the war eras. All this, fuelled by free flowing nectar of the Gods, was only so the Mock Wedding could be conducted with the new "couple" and everyone could have a good time.

The Grand Band

Some of the best bands in the business would sometimes fail to deliver in this, almost the last part of the wedding celebration -- The Grand March. Choosing a peppy beat, the band struck up the march and the MC rushed around grabbing people and getting them to form what is now called a "conga line" - but in pairs.  They would march through the hall, around the tables, in and out of any available passageways, grouping, splitting, re-grouping and generally converging on the floor in a ragged circle.  Then the band worth its salt would launch into the action songs, the Hokey Pokey, the Mexican Shuffle, the Birdy Dance and in the really good, old days, Hands Knees and Boomps-a-Daisy!  

I secretly suspect the MCs did it to ensure that the guests worked up an appetite, got straight into the food and filled their hungry plates.  The dinner was served.  And before the guests got up to say goodbye, the band played the last session which involved the "archway" through which the bride and groom passed, tearfuly wishing every person in the archway.  "Ladies to the left, gentlemen to the right!" was the instruction.  At last, the chance to kiss the bride arrived for that line of hopefuls in the church, remember them?

And then the last dance.  Never Please release me, let me go -- you'd never get another wedding gig if you did that.  Always, Help me make it through the night.

Perks to perk up the band

And what could help the band make it through the night better than drinks on the house? For some of the teetotallers it was food's on the table.  This, along with the steady stream of fish fingers or paneer pakoras, was what kept a band going.  Often enough, the band leader had been asked, "Where's the wedding?"  This would be met by smiles of satisfaction or groans of dismay to answers ranging across the Rangers, the Grail, CKC Parish Hall, Dalhousie Institute or Fort William, and that is not an exhaustive list.

And what of the MC?  He always had a carefully packed cylindrical package, the MC's bottle, to take home and spirit away.

[Thanks for staying the course during this exceptionally long story, but it had to be told. Please share and comment.]

Wannabe Musicians of Calcutta 16

 

Image by Leroy Skalstad from Pixabay 

[This write-up, part of a promised series, was published on the Facebook Group Calcutta Connect Around the World on November 25, 2020.  I have captured it here to have it all in one place. More of these will be coming up soon. Please comment and share.  Leslie]

Growing up, Calcutta for me was a small patch of land largely comprising Calcutta 16 and a few areas defined by the term reachable-on-foot. We lived on Sandel Street and schooled at Park Street, though my sister went all the way to Park Circus by tram. Our church moved from St Thomas' Middleton Row to St Mary's Ripon Street, a hop, step and half-a-jump from home. Mum, till the age of 91, walked to the New Market or Collin Bazaar, or down the road to Methibagan for fresh beef. Our club was the Goan Association near Wellesley Tank, or the Grail Club on Park Street. Our bread and cakes were from our namesake D'Gama's or Saldanha's. Our guitars and pianos were from Braganza's or Reynold's or Lazarus Sequiera. And the piano tuner could often be found at A A Rodrick. So we walked everywhere! Especially wannabe musicians who could hardly afford their equipment.

Gibtone Guitar Corporation, Ripon Street (from their web presence)

We knew all the lanes and bylanes in around the area. In Collin Bazaar, in one of the narrow paths that open onto Wellesley Street you could get guitar strings and picks at dirt cheap rates, or you could go and look at the Gibtone amplifiers that often had three inputs so that the microphone, rhythm and lead could play out of one speaker. Or you could go the hard way and shop for an Ahuja 30W amp at Chandni, build your own speaker box with a 12 inch Harman (also Chandni plus the local wood shop) and buy cables and jacks and do the soldering yourself. There was always a backup with Alvin or Ah Fam Liao to help with the electronics.

And you would celebrate when some Goan or Anglo-Indian party decided to give you a try for some occasion. Some of us ended up doing gigs at Christ the King, 2nd Floor for any kind of occasion. Some of us cut our teeth on one-off gigs at Ghalib bar at anywhere between Rs 5 and Rs 20 per night. Weddings were the big ones. If you could get your quote past the Minstrels (they had Sax appeal) or the Amigos (they too had sax appeal but could also blow their own trumpet), you might have been offered a few hundreds to play for the wedding (as a band, of course). There were days when you would travel "out-of-town" to the DI or Swimming Club to do a show, only to be walking back down Park Street or Mayo Road with your instruments on your head after the ball was over.

Small wonder then, that the next morning you would be going back the same way for your morning walk! As the winter sets into Calcutta 39, I recall these Calcutta 16 stories and wonder how we ever thought that Picnic Garden was in another State!

Beethoven and the Drums

 

Collage from Ludwig's catalog and Pixabay

[Not too many readers will identify with the content in this blogpost, but I'm going to push it through anyway since it chronicles my earliest adventures in music and 'equipment' of some sorts.  I've put in pictures to explain things visually.  I'm guessing there are lots of secret musicians and technicians out there who started off the same way.  We had no money and very patient parents.]

It's about the cardboard boxes

Anyone who has shifted house would be familiar with the flood of cardboard boxes that get underfoot after the shift is over.  Well, we didn't shift house - we were all born at Sandel Street in Calcutta 16.  But my dad had a decent job at the airport in Pan American Airways.  This meant that the aircraft regularly offloaded stuff in these boxes and they were meant to be thrown out in the days before Reduce-Reuse-Recycle became popular.  For some reason these all had a brand LEAHY written on the sides and were known at home as Leahy boxes, used for storing books, files, art materials and a few assorted stuffed toys.  The story of the Leahy boxes is where the creation of the Beethoven drum kit actually starts.  But I need to introduce you to the preamble to the story.

Musicians those days, multi faceted

My dad had, at an earlier time, earned a spare buck playing the violin with various 'scratch' dance bands which had names covering the who's who of Goan sessions musicians in those days. And not only the violin.  One of his stories was of the drummer - could have been Fernandes, D'Souza or Menezes, I think the name changed with age.  Goan musicians drank a fair bit before, during and after the show so it was expected that the drummer would go and sleep below the Grand Piano somewhere towards the last hour of the show.  This meant throwing caution to the winds and the violinist having to sit behind the drums.  All Dad needed to do was keep timing so the uncles could swing their partners around the dance floor, to well known rhythms.  This inspired me, aged 10 perhaps, to attempt to become a drummer.

Beethoven inspired the drum kit

So the Leahy boxes were pressed into service as a drum kit. The bass drum required to be a large box, with a little weight to keep it in one place -- some of the heavy books did yeoman service as ballast.  A smaller box was the snare -- badminton racquet 'guts' were stretched across with elastic and bits and pieces of metal in order to get the snare sound.  Tom toms were any other box or even an old Lactogen can, suitably modified  with padding.  That left the cymbals -- no one has had a more generous mum than mine. A Dekchi cover had to be made available after much bargaining about the hole in the middle.  And to move generosity to the next level, I was provided with a threadbare towel to hang in front of the Leahy bass drum - and it had to have a "Logo".  You guessed it.  Ludwig was the big name in drums for those who could afford to look into the glass front of Reynold's or wander past Braganza's.  My other skill as an artist was called into play -- the logo was soon painted onto the towel and strategically hung in front of the bass drum.

Drums don't play without hardware

But you can't play a bass drum without the bass pedal, can ya?  Meccano to the rescue.  There's another whole story about my collectibles, but suffice to know that a couple of flanges, rods, wheels and nuts and bolts were put to work after they were dug out of Leslie's Box.

With those base plates as the foot pedal, a rod and some wheels, topped by a snooker ball perhaps (it was round and wooden) the bass drum pedal was created and it worked!  For good measure, I used a few more Meccano parts to create a 'cowbell' and some sort of a choke sound.

Stick around, it gets better

The final requirement for the drum set was the pair of drum sticks!  Latai to the rescue. My cousin was an avid kite flyer and had a couple of these broken latai reels lying around. I asked politely and inherited them.  Then with a heavy grade of sandpaper stolen from the house toolbox (Dad was a part time DIY hobbyist), I fashioned a set of drum sticks with heads and tapered necks.  It took time but was a labour of love.

I am sure that you would raise a glass to my parents as I began to "drum" at the most inconvenient hours in the house, keeping time to the record player.  But, I hear you cry, what's this got to do with Beethoven?

Beethoven was there

One day at the parish church there was a quiz being conducted.  My elder sister Carol was on the church team and my doting mum and I were in the front row, not intending to cheat but getting carried away.  Carol's team got a question: "What was Beethoven's first name?"  They were flummoxed.  Then my mother started making actions to indicate drumming and pointing to me. No one got the answer so the Quizmaster walked over and asked my mum why she was getting apoplectic about the question.  And she blurted out, "Leslie's drum set .. it's called Ludwig!"

Needless to say, there was hearty laugh from the family though the Quizmaster was still perplexed.  And the church team lost the quiz anyway.  And I particularly used the bust of Beethoven in the pic above because the cardboard drum set, like a house of cards, finally went bust!  

Some other time I will document the creation of the bass guitar from a solid block of wood to the stage - all true stories!

[Please leave your comments below.  Share the story with friends.  Would love feedback.]

Roots 66 A Brief History Onstage

During lockdown we amused ourselves by curating music videos from YouTube and playing them for a select group of people on Friday nights.  This list is the set I created to celebrate my 66th birthday on October 9th (John Lennon shares the date).  The text is reproduced from the chat screen that we use when presenting the videos.  Enjoy, find and listen to the music too.

Happy Birthday to Me - Bass Guitar

I am 66 today (Oct 9) so I felt I should celebrate this with all of you and take you on my musical journey which I have called Roots 66, though it really should be Musical Roots 66

My foray into stage performances actually began with playing rhythm guitar and drums at weddings along with the Elloy brothers, Raymond and Jeffrey (RIP). The band Beat Route was formed with my brother Noel (guitar, vocal) and a few local friends - Gordon Rosario (Drums), Jeff Rodgers (Guitar) and Leslie Gabriel (Guitar & vocal). Those were my bass playing years -- on a home made bass guitar which took me 6 months to make - there was no YouTube How To in those days. Beat Route played for a couple of years at the Calcutta Swimming Club and a few random weddings and parties. 

This session takes a look at some of the music that we played and that shaped our musical tastes of the time. Especially playing in the college band for four years with James Carvey, Kenneth Bell and Les Gabriel!

BJ Thomas Hooked on a feeling -- This version by BJ Thomas (originally by Blue Swede) - one of the first songs ever played with my band at the Calcutta Swimming Club where we lasted for some years. I learnt the song playing with Maki Dastur though I have forgotten the band's name! BJ Thomas is better known for Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head. 

CSNY Love the one you're with -- A song that my brother Noel and I used to harmonize along with some other favourites from CSNY, the Beatles and others. Vocal harmony was big in those days - we had an acoustic quartet with Grenville and Gloria Daunt and my sister Carol and myself. 

Santana Black magic woman -- Kala Jadu Aurat was the name given by our lead guitarist Jeff Rodgers. He played a 7 string guitar when anything with more than 6 strings was a piano!

Eagles One of these nights -- Loved this one for the bass line that defined the song, and of course the harmony vocals with Noel and Leslie Gabriel

Grand funk Railroad Are you ready? -- This song brings back memories when Noel, Gordon and I were rehearsing at home. My sister, Carol, burst in and asked "Why are you singing Ayurvedic? Why can't you sing Homeopathic instead?" Mark, Don and Mel were Grand Funk Railroad - we also played (smiles) We're an American Band.

Beatles Rock and Roll Music -- Rock and roll music defined a lot of what we did in those days. The Beatles just did it better than most, with guitars, harmonies and a great back beat

Eric Clapton Sunshine of your love -- A Cream original - here's an Eric Clapton version. Couldn't find a good version of the Cream original with Jack Bruce (Bass & Vocal), Ginger Baker (Drums) and Eric (Lead & vocals). For awhile my band comprised Noel (Lead & vocal), Gordon Rosario (Drums & vocal) and me (Bass & vocal) - with others coming and going.

Wild Cherry Play that funky music -- Everyone played this song. Everyone still plays it. Black, Brown or Yellow we all still sing Play that funky music, white boy!

Earth Wind & Fire In the Stone -- Never played this, always imagined we would someday. EWF were a strong influence on my musical tastes which helped me make the transition to a lover of jazz funk.

Bee Gees Words --- This is the original which the two Leslie's used to harmonize. Somewhere down the road the lyrics and music changed to what everyone sings these days.

Electric Light Orchestra Roll over Beethoven -- My favourite, whenever I am asked to sing some rock and roll. It helps to clear the house fairly quickly.

Crosby Stills Nash (& Young) Woodstock -- The festival changed the way we enjoyed music, the song defined the entire culture of the era. And CSNY defined vocal harmony for us

Rolling Stones Jumpin Jack Flash -- Rock and Roll anthems had to include Jumpin Jack Flash. On our ancient cassette recorders we tried to decipher Jagger's lyrics.

Little River Band Reminiscing -- A favourite of the two Leslies - this band was one of my favourites for listening and playing pleasure.

Doobie Brothers Long Train Running -- Anyone who grew up in the 80s had to play The Doobie Brothers' Long Train Running and Listen to the Music, at least.

The High Years - Piano & Keys

I'm not even sure how I got into the rock band, High. One day I ended up playing piano with Dilip Balakrishnan (RIP), Nondon Bagchi, Lew Hilt (and for awhile Richard 'Fuzz' Francis) and Subir Chatterjee. Concerts kept us busy - from college fests, the most memorable of which was IIT-Delhi, to public concerts at Vidya Mandir, to Jazz Fest at ITF Pavilion - and rehearsals led us to fall in love with Dilip's compositions. In respect for Dilip I have avoided trying to play his music here, but have picked up a selection of other covers that we played as a band.

Grateful Dead US Blues -- Nondon's favourite for vocals. And mine for piano. We had fun on the Vidya Mandir stage at High Velocity.

Pink Floyd Wish you were here -- The first concert where I got to use electronics to make music - the Roland Jupiter 4. We did a lot of experimenting with Pink Floyd's music and Subir and I tried to get this song exactly as recorded

Dire Straits Lady Writer -- The only time I got a chance to sing solo in High (in my new red shirt yet!). I am sure the feedback ensured I never sang alone again. :-D

Traffic Low Spark of High Heeled Boys -- There's a recording of this on the FB Page for High. Enjoyed playing acoustic piano and synthesizer together in Vidya Mandir back in the 80s. Steve Winwood was a favourite

Stevie Wonder Master Blaster (Jammin') -- This song has a history with all of us at Nondon's house picking up the music over one whole night. Naturally four fingers of liquid was nicknamed Master Blaster in memory of that night.

Joan Armatrading: Show some emotion -- We played a few concerts with the Rhythm n Blues label with Anjum Katyal on vocals. Entirely her choice of music. I loved the synth work we had to do on this song. Not to mention the groove.

Dire Straits with Phil Collins, Sting, Clapton Money for Nothing -- To me this is a celebration of incredible musicians playing together. 

This song is a classic.  Rolling Stones Route 66 -- Well, obviously. Thank you for coming and making my evening so enjoyable.

High Memories #1 - #4

I asked Mala Balakrishnan if she had any pictures of the time I was playing with High. She asked Tejan who sent me a few of this concert (within a few minutes, I might add), along with a request to put down a few memories. I'm getting old and chronological records are confused to say the least, but there are some memories that are as clear as daylight!

#1 - the years we spent rehearsing at Sekhar Iron Works on Chowringhee Road, courtesy the unputdownable Kamal Kant Mishra. We are ever grateful to the guy. Especially one evening when just randomly searching through the abandoned warehouse we came across a cupboard that contained some very rare old alcohol -- me being a teetotaler didn't have the enthusiasm of some of the others, but we're all in this together (as we hear so often these covid days).

#2 The Master Blaster night - when we spent a night at Nondon's trying to pick up the nuances of Stevie Wonder's hit from Hotter than July. I distinctly remember arguing about the lyrics -- remember, we had no Google then -- and then Nondon Bagchi started pouring fuel into glasses (not on the fire) and all was well. One outcome of that night was that the 4-finger peg got re-christened from "patiala" to "master blaster". Later on, when another friend topped up the whiskey with gin thinking it was water, the term went into all caps as MASTER BLASTER.

#3 - IIT-D, Matias Akenbach and White Fang. We were to play the final night at IIT-D festival probably in 1982 (at least my faded tee shirt seems to indicate that). While setting up at the open air stadium we were pleasantly surprised to find Matias Akenbach doing the sound. Matias had done the sound at JazzFest earlier and just happened to be roaming around Delhi at the time. Why am I not surprised that Dilip wasn't surprised? Later that evening the opening band was White Fang, if I recall correctly. Then we came on and about two thirds of the way through we were suddenly disconnected, bundled into a van and whisked off to the railway station. I think there was an article in the papers the next day about some Calcutta band inciting a gatecrash and several people injured or something ... but we made it home safely.


#4 - High Velocity and Highways were the two concerts I remember most vividly ... if you like my undocumented rambling, please put in a comment and I will dredge the memory banks for more.

Tejan - we shall not give the inside info of a certain toddler clambering all over his baba's jottings in Mandeville Gardens.


(As published in a Facebook post on the High Group Page which you can find at
https://www.facebook.com/groups/480460015182 )

High Memories #5 - #6

Thought waves about High started last night. I wrote 4 short stories on the FB group. And the comments opened up new bits of my brain that seemed lost forever. So, here goes.

#5 - Dilip's Guitar

I was chatting with Nondon and trying to find an acoustic guitar which I could use for a non-rock acoustic programme (mine had bitten the dust with a broken neck, though Braganza's said they would fix it). Nondon, without hesitation, said, "Ask Dilip to loan you his". I was taken aback because I feel a musician's connect with his instrument. I expressed this and Nondon, characteristically slow and easy, as though talking to an idiot child said (and I quote), "Dilip has no special connect to material things. Guitars are things". In our little selfish world I had not experienced this feeling. I zipped over to Dilip's on my bicycle and asked. All he said was, "There it is, take it. When will you bring it back?" Overwhelming. I think I just took more care of it for that one show than I have taken care of much of my other equipment. What a flashback.

#6 - Dilip's Vocal Advice

I recall when I was given the job of backing vocals on Land of Mordor and some of the other Tolkien material that Dilip had written. Being a good learner, I quickly picked up the harmonies and started belting them out to the best of my ability. Dilip put down his guitar, came over to me and said, very softly, "This is not the church choir. You don't have to sing with gusto. You don't have to hold the notes till the next line". Somewhere in between sounding like a staccato typewriter and the church choir, I think I got it right. Those lines still stick in my head as does the music of the Tolkien suite. (Aside: one of Dilip's ambitions was to be on stage with Tejan. Another secret hope was that he would be able to act as Gollum ...)

High Memories Jazz Fest 1982

You guys have opened the floodgates. This one is about JazzFest 1982 at the ITF Pavilion on Outram Road.

#7 - JazzFest and the Bins

Satyajit Roychaudhury

will have to realign the memories here because he was, for us, Jazz India and Jazz India organized Jazz Fest at the ITF Pavilion (where the Book Fair was held, among other artistic pursuits like training the Territorial Army)!

I hadn't been in High too long .. probably a year at the most. My last memory of Jazz Fest, as I mentioned before, was playing a set with the band Embryo at the La Martiniere school grounds in 1979. I played bass guitar and spent three days with Uwe, the bassist, learning the lines. My prized possession was a leather guitar strap on which Uwe wrote "Space is the Place" which was deep for me at the time.

So, back to 1981 when I was with High. We were asked to open the program before the legendary Shakti on stage. Several hours of sound check, hot tea and cold feet followed. And we had this weirdly trapezoid Yamaha amplifier that

Subir Chatterjee

was using for lead guitar. The rest is kind of blurry till the point where we were summoned by the one and only L Shankar who requested most politely that he be allowed to "try" Subir's amplifier for his double-necked violin. Permission granted with alacrity!

The gig went reasonably well, we all played our stuff that we had rehearsed, conscious of the fact that the great Shakti was waiting in the wings. Got out of that one alive, then was our turn in the wings as we watched the magic unfold.

The Bins came after that I believe. One sunny day, we walked into Dilip's to find these huge wooden speaker boxes blocking most of the room in which we practised. Mala must have really had a tough time working her way round. We discovered that Dilip had bought them from Jazz India ... that's where the memory fades, I am not sure when and where we used them, but this stark memory of these large speaker bins in the room have stayed with me. These days when we see the huge rigging frameworks and the flying speakers and the plethora of gadgets which sometimes program themselves, I think back to the early days of music when instruments had amplification on stage and each musician had to be mindful of the rest!