Travel on a Tune: South Africa via Canada with Themba Tana

The big box of LP records that I left behind in Tasmania contained many musical treasures, but I sold my player a few years ago and so they had all been neglected and forgotten for some time. I’d be giving too many clues about my age if I gave details (as if “LP” wasn’t enough!), though many were collected more recently from second-hand shops and some of the classics came from my parents. What a tragic loss!

Every now and then I have a flash recollection of sounds from my past that remained in that box, and I look back upon a record by Themba Tana as one of the more formative influences upon me and my musical preferences.

I bought “Themba Tana and African Heritage” when I was 14 years old after seeing him perform, and I played it loudly and often. I was particularly struck by the variety of percussion instruments which, according to the album liner notes, included “gumboot with bells”.

Themba Tana is a classically trained musician who was born and educated in South Africa before moving to Canada, where he continues to perform, compose and teach. He specialises as a drummer and is influenced by his extensive travel and collaborations with diverse musicians.

 

Pussycat Pussycat…

…Where have you been?

We’ve been all sorts of places this past month, enjoying the good weather and festival season of our island home. Here’s a photographic summary:

The Taste of Tasmania Festival, with nosh, nibbles and noms galore (sorry, I was on a roll with the aliteration). Not to mention giant lego, street performances and fantastic buskers.

Mona Foma, or MOFO for short; a super cool music festival run by the Museum of Old and New Art (MONA).

Highlights for me were the Sun Ra Arkestra, (above) an international, interplanetary stage explosion; The Bombay Royale from Melbourne via Bollywood; the tight-as-a-leopard-leotard punkish rock of The Julie Ruin and a mesmerising machine/music installation called The Ada Project.

The festival precinct, by the Hobart waterfront, was also just a really cool place to hang out with other music fans at dusk and beyond.

We took the kids to see the Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra performing music from the films of Pixar and they showed remarkable patience and focus. They are still talking about “the concert!”

We also went, as a family, to see a musical version of Robin Hood performed in the Royal Botanical Gardens by Big Monkey theatre company.

Day trips have included jaunts to the Cygnet Folk Festival and the Middleton Country Fair. We took a ferry to Bruny Island and collected shells and rocks on the sensational beaches.

And in a surprising twist, given my usual relationship with sport generally and tennis specifically, we attended the Hobart International Tennis Tournament (and enjoyed it!). Check out the view beyond the court in the photo below.

It has been a month of involvement, discovery and new experiences.

(And I should mention that while we’ve been visiting all these different places, and more, it has been possible to find me in one “place” the whole time: Instagram. Look me up under the name manychacha if you are a frequenter of that particular social medium!)

Christmas Cheer from Korea

This video by Korean group, Crayon Pop, features a sad theme — it’s called “Lonely Christmas” — but everything else about it is a joy. Happy Day!

 

For Those Who Don’t Know (or Care) It’s Christmas

Dear Sir Bob Geldof, even though you had great intentions and you achieved wonderful things, your legacy at Christmas annoys the heck out of me.

Every year around this time, a trip to the supermarket is even more of an endurance test because the piped music gets– even– worse. And while “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” is not the worst song ever , the lyrics really get on my nerves.

The story about how the song was created reveals a lot about the sentiments expressed in it, I think. In 1984, Bob saw a documentary or news item about the famine in Ethiopia, was moved to help, gathered his mates, wrote a song and recorded it in 24 hours. It was a fast-moving attempt to really grab at the heartstrings of people in wealthier nations and it worked; it raised millions of pounds. The title was designed to make people look at themselves, have some empathy and give generously.

But nearly 30 years later the lyrics just sound smug.

Back in 1984, the choice to play it on radio was an effort to publicise the fundraising efforts. The choice to purchase it was a genuine gift. Now we can hear the song in the supermarket, listen to these lyrics and ignore the fact that there are still famines, that wars continue, that many many people suffer hardship at this time of year around the world.

And so, Sir Bob, I think it’s a sweet song, I really do, but I’m pretty sure “they” don’t care about Christmas, they just care about getting through each day. The real question now might be: does anyone know or care about “them”?

(NB: One organisation that I really love makes it easy to remain in the Christmas spirit but also give to those people who need something other than snow and good cheer. Oxfam suggests that we “Give Geniusly” and makes it possible, through its Oxfam Unwrapped program, to give your loved ones goats, ducks or a well. In a manner of speaking, of course. Your gift actually goes to those who need it, while your loved one receives an amusing e-card.

It’s really cool, it really means something and there are a variety of financial options so you can give what you can.

But do it now because today is the last day that it’s available before Christmas! If you miss it, of course they’ll take your donation any time of year.)

двенадцать (Twelve) !

Nothing can compare with the Pointer Sisters and their classic “Pinball Number Count” clip from old-school Sesame Street. But for an extra dash of foreign flavour, this Russian version is pretty fun too. It sounds like quite a tongue tangle to say all twelve numbers so quickly!

(Meanwhile if you are a fan of Pinball Number Count, also check out the Skeewiff remix and the jazz version by Neil Cowley Trio).

Another Place: Home

I spend much time thinking and talking about other places but the fact is, I am currently located in “another place”.

Here are a few things that I am missing about my home town, Melbourne.

Family and friends are on my mind, of course. Small people are growing up here and over there. Above is a collage by my precious three-year-old niece.

The Melbourne I miss is about great music and books from Polyester and Title. It’s about liquids in laneways big and small. Coffee in cafes such as Journal, The Breakfast Club or A Minor Place, or wine (perhaps Pimms!) in bars like Section 8 and Madame Brussels.

There’s an independent radio station in Hobart but there’s only one Triple R. I miss the sounds and I miss seeing these stickers on cars.

Oh Klein’s Perfumery, my nose misses you. This tiny shop, possibly my favourite, is where I (used to) buy my soap. Every single thing in this store smells wonderful.

Last time he was on Brunswick Street, my sweet man bought me a sold perfume here for travelling; how thoughtful!

Another contender for my favourite shop is Husk. Frightfully expensive clothes, gorgeously exotic home wares and a variety of aromatic tea blends are available here. I see from the website that the brand has expanded beyond Melbourne but nevertheless, it has long been one of my favourite window-shopping stops.

In all honesty, since having twins I haven’t been hopping between many bars or lingering at many cafes. I haven’t had many reasons to wear glamorous clothes, and home wares in our house are purely functional or kept out of harm’s reach.

But what I really miss about Melbourne is that all of these (and many, many more) wonderful places have always been just there.

And now they’re all the way over there.

Isn’t it interesting when home becomes “another place”?

Bon Voyage and Ba Cissoko

The earnest and wordy liner notes in the cover of the “Bon Voyage, Worldly Sounds” CD encourage listeners to imagine what it was like for the artists to create the music featured. The suggestion is that by opening our minds to new sounds, we may also discover new cultures and challenge our existing beliefs.

I’m not sure what that has to do with the drawn naked people on the cover or the “Man” and “Woman” themes, but there are some nice tracks on here, many by artists that are very well-known in their own countries.

Here’s a lovely video with music by Ba Cissoko — a musician and the band that he named after himself — who is featured on Bon Voyage. Ba Cissoko is from Guinea, West Africa, and uses traditional instruments such as the kora (a harp lute historically played by storytellers), to make modern sounds.

Mofo Music Show Gives Statistics a Face

Most of the time, history seems far away and the people who lived before us are faceless and forgotten. Of the convicts who contributed so much to the history of Australia, Robert Hughes wrote (in The Fatal Shore): “They were statistics, absences and finally embarrassments.”

Indeed, it’s not that long ago that Tasmanians sought to have the World Heritage Listed former penal colony, Port Arthur, renamed and ignored because of its ignominious past. They did not want to be reminded of their convict roots.

So it’s amazing to be confronted with real convict faces, as is possible via the Tasmanian government archives. This is William Marsden, photo taken in 1874 by Thomas Nevin.

And it was an unexpectedly moving experience to listen to songs detailing the stories of 17 convicts and their families in the Dark Mofo event, Vandemonian Lags. It wasn’t musical theatre, exactly, it was a concert with a context. Short dramatised introductions, recreations of judicial court trials on the other side of the world, for example, set the scene for the songs with projected images and film. Most songs were about specific people who were transported here as prisoners. Some detailed what happened to their offspring, others were about the crimes that got them sent over.

The performers were legendary musicians from the Australian rock and folk scene and the songs, which were based on original convict records, were all immediately likeable. The stories and songs are available to explore on the Storylines website, which appears to have been made as part of the overall project and provides an incredible educational resource.

Husband, who is a storyteller by trade, felt that the lyrics occasionally got in the way of the story and sometimes the story wasn’t clear, but I didn’t think this detracted from the overall mood. The variety of songs created great texture and it maintained a good pace. In fact — surprisingly given the subject — it was frequently rollicking and at least once it totally rocked out.

I cried twice and tried to pretend I didn’t. Having just visited Port Arthur last weekend, I had colonial history at the forefront of my mind and I was really receptive to the emotional hardships that these people went through, as well as their physical travails.

It’s so interesting to notice how our attitudes towards the past changes, and that what is considered valuable is not fixed. History, so often written and dominated by the wealthy and powerful, is now “interpreted” (rather than told) to include and perhaps give dignity to those who were once ignored.

The songs and stories in this show were about forgotten folk, a reminder that some of the most unfortunate occupants of Van Diemen’s Land were real people too.

Heart-Stopping Art: Dark Mofo

It’s not often that you are asked to sign an indemnity form prior to viewing an artwork. “…there is a danger of motion sickness, trance-like states and blackouts…” Is that a threat or a promise?

Dark Mofo unfurled in the rain last night; it’s the winter festival masterminded by MONA which strives to be as confronting and provocative as the art (and general theme) of the museum.

Announcing itself with a beam of light into the nebulous sky like batman or an old time picture show, the festival hosted events and installations in adjacent shipping terminals on Hobart’s waterfront. In one: music and a triple-screen video accompaniment. Beanbags, a massive, mostly empty bar practically hidden behind the stage, darkness, gobo projections on the ceiling.

The other, grungier space held a series of art installations designed to complement that huge flashlight, all comprising an exhibition called “Beam in Thine Own Eye”. It asks questions about what we bring to art when we view it, how much do we in fact create our own realities, which direction is that light really flowing anyway?

One of the installations, called Zee, is such an intense sensory experience that it is forbidden for pregnant women or children to view it, and everyone else must sign a disclaimer before entering. The large queue to see this work last night showed how alluring this kind of potential “danger” can be. But reports from those who had experienced it suggested that it was anything but pleasant. Nauseating, ear-popping, heart-stopping, overwhelming, yes.

I chose not to queue but may return when there isn’t a crowd. The question is: do I want to partake in art that makes me feel queasy and uncomfortable? Is it like experimenting with drugs, just for the experience? Will I appreciate the point better if I put myself through it?

Or is it the experience that generates the understanding, the right questions, or indeed the answers. Only one way to find out, I guess. And these queries apply to much of the Dark Mofo programme.

In any case, with its heaters, mismatched couches, communal blankets (which made minglers look like many storybook red riding-hoods) and big chess set, the exhibition space had a very warm vibe for this O-Night event.

So even though Dark Mofo wants to be as impenetrable as those clouds for that giant beam of light, it still offers some comfort and a friendly atmosphere. Just be prepared for the art to be dangerous.

African Music from A to Zimbabwe

The little guys and I visited an African grocery store near here and I asked the woman behind the counter if she sold any music.

“We don’t have any now, but I’m thinking of getting some,” she said. “Which country do you like the music?”

“Oh, nowhere in particular, I was just wondering,” I said vaguely, thinking I would have been happy to try something new from anywhere.

She sort of shrugged and smiled, as if to say: “Africa is huge, you know!”

We like heaps of African music around here, but I must admit that I don’t always note which region it comes from. My encounter in the shop reminded me to regard Africa as richly diverse continent, not just a blanket term, and I’m keen to improve my knowledge about it (and hopefully visit parts of it one day).

Meanwhile, I wanted to share with you our current favourite driving music, which is a 1982 album by Lucky Dube and Super Soul. It’s in the South African mbaqanga style which has Zulu roots, and it is really upbeat and energising. I couldn’t find a video but I did learn that Lucky Dube went on to become a reggae superstar who was, tragically, murdered in 2007.

Instead I bring you some music from Zimbabwe, just next door to South Africa. This video, with music by Leonard Dembo, features dance moves that make me want to drop my shoulders and swing my knees. Low budget but great, enjoy!