This is straight out of Hunter S Thomson, rest his soul. As gonzo as it can get! For once this is not apocryphal but it sure is the stuff legends are made of!
Normal night at Blue Frog. Swanky cars being valet parked, couples and groups of all ages streaming in, ordering drinks, waiting for the band to start off and swaying gently to the hip-swivelling, acoustically-perfect recorded music that plays before the set. One young gentleman who walked in on his first Blue Frog night noticed a Yezdi motor-cycle parked within the vicinity.
He notices the same bike parked at exactly the same spot the second time he visits the place. Gathering dust. Lying abandoned. The third time he visits Blue Frog, he again sees the bike rooted in its spot in abandoned glory, dirty and dysfunctional.
For those who don’t know, Yezdi motorcycle was brought to India by an Indian of Iranian descent (fondly known as bawas in Mumbai) way back in the 50s. This bawa rode the bike from its country of origin, Czechoslovakia, to India, negotiated a technological collaboration with the Czech company and started manufacturing the bike in India first under the name of Jawa and later as Yezdi, named after one his sons. Early 80s, the plant was shut down and its not produced anymore.
I don’t know the exact figure but there must be millions of Jawa fans in India. Some of them are obsessed. Like global Harley cults, India too has had its share of Bullet (Enfield bikes) cults, and Yezdi enthusiasts.
Well, our hero of the story – in his 20s – is an obsessive Yezdi maniac. Each day he spotted the orphaned bike, he would drool wistfully. For the rest of the world, that bike was junk. Our young hero saw her as a wanton woman abandoned, ungroomed, destitute and forlorn.
Finally he couldn’t take it any more. So one night, he took her away. Just like that. Picked her up, shook off her dust as best as he could, and rolled her over to his mechanic almost 5 kilometres away, heaving and panting in the middle of the night. The mechanic was well-known to him and he knew his penchant for Yezdis.
It took the mechanic better part of the week to get the bike ship-shape. Cleaned, washed and polished, the bike was over-hauled thoroughly. Single kickstart had that Yezdi purring like a Cheshire cat with cream. Our hero was thrilled.
First he scrutinises her from all angles, wiping an imaginary grease stain here, a dust speck there. He fondles her all over, then sits on her, missionary-like, and kicks the lever to start. (In Yezdis keys don’t actually matter. Any longish rod will go into the keyhole and it can be started). She purrs with all her wanton abandon. He pushes the throttle a wee bit. She roars. A bit more and she was all frothing to leap ahead.
The hero took off. First to the nearest gas station. Filled her up. And then he rode ahead on Mumbai roads to tame her and as they say in bike parlance, “break the bike” (even though it wasn’t a new one).
Meanwhile, that bike belonged to someone working at and for Blue Frog. This person was from out of town, and had ridden into the city to work at Blue Frog. One day when the bike did not start, he just dumped it near the vicinity. He did not know any Yezdi bike mechanics in the city. (A true blue-blooded biker will only get the bike serviced from mechanics who specialise in particular bikes). So each day he would see his bike gathering dust and would think, “I must ask someone about any Yezdi mechanic around. Most patrons at Blue Frog come in cars. Who do I ask. Well, someday I’ll find out…”
Till that night when he did not see his bike at all. He asked the securiuty guards, etc., none of whom had seen the bike being moved. The poor out-of-town chap panicked. He knew his bike had been stolen. He told everyone, his employers etc. about the loss of his abandoned bike and was advised correctly to report the theft to the police. He gave the registration number, colour, make, looks and all other details to the cops. Somewhere deep down he felt he had lost the bike for good and was severely depressed.
Cut to our young hero who had his fill of the thrill on the Yezdi on the roads of Mumbai. When evening came, he decided to return the bike in working condition, tanks still full, to its original place.
Our hero rides his baby to Blue Frog. Takes her right up to the place where she was originally found abandoned. Puts her on the stands, rubs his hands over the chrome and the seat for one last time, fondly, and turns to enter the Blue Frog Club when he sees a posse of five cops surrounding him.
They asked him if he had stolen the bike. He denied. He confessed that he had indeed taken the bike, but only to get her working. He couldn’t bear the sight of a Yezdi lying abandoned. So he took it – without permission (because he didn’t know who the owner was; he genuinely thought someone has abandoned the bike) of course – got it fixed and working, filled the gas and returned the bike to its original place.
For a moment the cops were taken aback. They did not how to react. So they called the person who had reported the theft from Blue Frog. He was thrilled to see his bike and angry at the thief. The thief was then presented to the victim. The cops first explained to him that this is the guy who stole your bike, only to get it repaired and returned to is original place. When the cops came to know that the thief was a bawa, they just laughed it all off to the bawa idiosyncracy and walked away.
The victim just didn’t know how to react. He was thrilled to find his bike, all spruced up and working. Naturally, the two of them became friends. Our hero then introduced the out of town worker to his bike mechanic and the poor Blue Frog executive was thrilled to have his bike “stolen”. As a token of appreciation legend has it that the owner of the bike gave our hero a big chunk of a substance that enhances the musical experience oh-so-more.
That is the point of my envy! If I knew that was the prize, man, even I would have stolen the bike. And that is where a Hunter Thomson story would actually gain momentum. Hunter Thomson would get his cartoonist pal Ralph Steadman as a pillion, load the bike with lovely mesmeric substances, vroom his way inside Blue Frog perhaps and all over the country and perhaps write a book called Fear and Loathing at Blue Frog – In search of a Musical Nirvana!
Ain’t the story surreal? And ain’t it sensational! I might have stretched a few details but it actually happened. Not too long ago. Recently. At Blue Frog.
For me, this incident not only defines a Blue Frog chapter (kind of a lore that ought to be become a part of BF history), it also contextualises the Blue Frog concept where music is an experience that is often enhanced by mad, creative, honest and obsessive eccentricity that flanks the genius from all ends.
That’s Blue Frog for you – during its debut month!
Friday, January 18, 2008
Friday, January 11, 2008
A Hypnotic Epiphany
Blue Frog is gonna be a month old.
Snatches of conversations near the ever-crowded bar:
“Who wants to listen to the mushy angst of publicity-glutton Bono? Ain’t he the original solo boys band prototype, if ever there was one! Play another O-I’m-so-heartbroken-‘coz-my-girl-can’t-get-her-derriere-in-shape and I’m gonna barf right here…”
“Dude, are you the music fan my mum warned me against. Stuck inside the time warp with the Hendrix blues again… hahaha. Give me the raw uninhibited blood and gore of eminem any day. Man, that’s pure HST gonzo music.”
“Ladies, stop fighting. If I wanted a debate, I would hire a Michael Moore DVD. For a musical spectacle, I would recruit Al Gore. And when I do want some attention, I would show the tattoo where the Sun don’t shine, how would that be to beat Madonna at her own game, eh? For now, can I just raise a toast to Patti Smith prayer, arseholes…”
“In fact let me buy you a drink fellers… Hey, my dear Tom Cruise, juggle your booties and do your number. Shoot them with the Blue Frog Venom dude! And come, lets all savour the musical notes and lyrical octaves on offer here with some blue-blooded alcohol to wash it down with….
“Bravo, absolutely brilliant,” escaped a whisper from the voice at the far end, nursing a cognac over cigar, the curling smoke sinuously twisting around the razor-sharp contours of the lovely apparition: “For that my darling, to be caressed and cajoled and punched and kissed by such gravity-defying slurry of words, I’ll sell my soul to the devil. Alas, that was the first thing I sold.”
“To you, my wondrous friends, I offer myself”, said Blue Frog, the hostess herself:
“Savour me, relish me, tease me, try me, trust me, Seduce me, make love to me… but don’t you ever dare abuse me…”
And when you walk outta that door, leave your mojo out here for me to curl around and bask in its glow till you find your way back to me again…""
And I been finding my way back ever since. In the 27 live performances during the month, (The Frog sleeps on Mondays), Blue Frog has shown the world its mettle. Every single performing band has emphatically expressed the same sentiment: That this is one of the best venues they have ever played anywhere in the world!”
But it was summed up succinctly and authoritatively by Louis Banks on 8th Jan when he thanked the Club for the opportunity to play at Blue Frog as, “this has become a hallowed place for musicians to perform”.
For me its becoming like a hypnotic epiphany. All my life I had dreamed about starting a Blues Bar that will be called Hemingway by the Sea where live and recorded blues music would play. From the windows of my soul, I could see myself running this joint swapping stories with Howling Wolf, Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Bob Dylan and every artist that I love. In a metronomic replay within my head, these artists and their artistry would be the nine muses who would sleep with me… So on and so forth…
Blue Frog is definitely lots more than a mnemonic concept within my head. The fact that it exists today and is so close to what I had always dreamed about privately (Remember The Secret Lives of Walter Mitty) is what creates this hypnotic epiphany is what pulls me there practically very night.
The question is: Where does Blue Frog go from here?
Snatches of conversations near the ever-crowded bar:
“Who wants to listen to the mushy angst of publicity-glutton Bono? Ain’t he the original solo boys band prototype, if ever there was one! Play another O-I’m-so-heartbroken-‘coz-my-girl-can’t-get-her-derriere-in-shape and I’m gonna barf right here…”
“Dude, are you the music fan my mum warned me against. Stuck inside the time warp with the Hendrix blues again… hahaha. Give me the raw uninhibited blood and gore of eminem any day. Man, that’s pure HST gonzo music.”
“Ladies, stop fighting. If I wanted a debate, I would hire a Michael Moore DVD. For a musical spectacle, I would recruit Al Gore. And when I do want some attention, I would show the tattoo where the Sun don’t shine, how would that be to beat Madonna at her own game, eh? For now, can I just raise a toast to Patti Smith prayer, arseholes…”
“In fact let me buy you a drink fellers… Hey, my dear Tom Cruise, juggle your booties and do your number. Shoot them with the Blue Frog Venom dude! And come, lets all savour the musical notes and lyrical octaves on offer here with some blue-blooded alcohol to wash it down with….
“Bravo, absolutely brilliant,” escaped a whisper from the voice at the far end, nursing a cognac over cigar, the curling smoke sinuously twisting around the razor-sharp contours of the lovely apparition: “For that my darling, to be caressed and cajoled and punched and kissed by such gravity-defying slurry of words, I’ll sell my soul to the devil. Alas, that was the first thing I sold.”
“To you, my wondrous friends, I offer myself”, said Blue Frog, the hostess herself:
“Savour me, relish me, tease me, try me, trust me, Seduce me, make love to me… but don’t you ever dare abuse me…”
And when you walk outta that door, leave your mojo out here for me to curl around and bask in its glow till you find your way back to me again…""
And I been finding my way back ever since. In the 27 live performances during the month, (The Frog sleeps on Mondays), Blue Frog has shown the world its mettle. Every single performing band has emphatically expressed the same sentiment: That this is one of the best venues they have ever played anywhere in the world!”
But it was summed up succinctly and authoritatively by Louis Banks on 8th Jan when he thanked the Club for the opportunity to play at Blue Frog as, “this has become a hallowed place for musicians to perform”.
For me its becoming like a hypnotic epiphany. All my life I had dreamed about starting a Blues Bar that will be called Hemingway by the Sea where live and recorded blues music would play. From the windows of my soul, I could see myself running this joint swapping stories with Howling Wolf, Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Bob Dylan and every artist that I love. In a metronomic replay within my head, these artists and their artistry would be the nine muses who would sleep with me… So on and so forth…
Blue Frog is definitely lots more than a mnemonic concept within my head. The fact that it exists today and is so close to what I had always dreamed about privately (Remember The Secret Lives of Walter Mitty) is what creates this hypnotic epiphany is what pulls me there practically very night.
The question is: Where does Blue Frog go from here?
Thursday, January 3, 2008
I'm sorry about the assasination, but I find no love lost for Benazir Bhutto
All of you who have been blogging must have gone through this: How long after your debut, do you get a comment? Or an affirmation that your blog has been read by someone other than you.
I opened this page at least 5 times today. And each time I laughed at my own stupidity. How would anyone know that I've started a blog. I haven't told anyone yet. My fear is that if no one reads my blog even after saying so, I would feel worse.
Am I writing for myself or or others. Both I would guess. And I'm not promising that I'll write every day. I know other priorities would get the better of my best intentions. But I'll trudge on, whenever I get the time and inclination.
The latest New Yorker carries a story Bhutto and the Candidates by David Remnick in which a question is asked, "What is the greatest threat to the United States of America: 2.6 kilograms of highly enriched uranium in Tehran or an out-of-control Pakistan?”
For us in India, the query becomes even more pertinent.
I also fail to understand the eulogies that the Indian media is showering on Benazir posthumously. Allow me to quote the New Yorker story, "Bhutto’s autobiography, “Daughter of the East,” published in 1989, is an exercise in mythologizing, portraying her autocratic father as a democrat and a saintly shaheed, or martyr, and Benazir herself as a devoted inheritor who “tried to keep my father near me by sleeping with his shirt under my pillow.” But she was, of course, infinitely more complex than her memoir. She was a self-proclaimed democrat who was also the chairman-for-life of the Pakistan People’s Party. When she was in power, she lent support to the rise of the Taliban in Afghanistan, as part of Pakistan’s strategic struggle with India, and, particularly in her second term, she did little to halt the rise of a nuclear Pakistan. After she fell from power the second time, in 1996, she and her husband, Asif Ali Zardari, who acted as her minister of investment, were accused of taking colossal kickbacks on government contracts. Bhutto always claimed that the charges were politically motivated."
An unstable Pakistan scares the world. It ought to scare India even more so. Her 19 year old son is wet-behind-the-ears and doesn't alleviate my nervousness at all. Its arguable if democrcy will work in Pakistan, but its still the safest bet. They said the same about India as well, 60 years ago. With all the impediments, angst and heartburn, we are still the world's largest democracy, thank you.
But will this cat ever be belled in Pakistan?
I opened this page at least 5 times today. And each time I laughed at my own stupidity. How would anyone know that I've started a blog. I haven't told anyone yet. My fear is that if no one reads my blog even after saying so, I would feel worse.
Am I writing for myself or or others. Both I would guess. And I'm not promising that I'll write every day. I know other priorities would get the better of my best intentions. But I'll trudge on, whenever I get the time and inclination.
The latest New Yorker carries a story Bhutto and the Candidates by David Remnick in which a question is asked, "What is the greatest threat to the United States of America: 2.6 kilograms of highly enriched uranium in Tehran or an out-of-control Pakistan?”
For us in India, the query becomes even more pertinent.
I also fail to understand the eulogies that the Indian media is showering on Benazir posthumously. Allow me to quote the New Yorker story, "Bhutto’s autobiography, “Daughter of the East,” published in 1989, is an exercise in mythologizing, portraying her autocratic father as a democrat and a saintly shaheed, or martyr, and Benazir herself as a devoted inheritor who “tried to keep my father near me by sleeping with his shirt under my pillow.” But she was, of course, infinitely more complex than her memoir. She was a self-proclaimed democrat who was also the chairman-for-life of the Pakistan People’s Party. When she was in power, she lent support to the rise of the Taliban in Afghanistan, as part of Pakistan’s strategic struggle with India, and, particularly in her second term, she did little to halt the rise of a nuclear Pakistan. After she fell from power the second time, in 1996, she and her husband, Asif Ali Zardari, who acted as her minister of investment, were accused of taking colossal kickbacks on government contracts. Bhutto always claimed that the charges were politically motivated."
An unstable Pakistan scares the world. It ought to scare India even more so. Her 19 year old son is wet-behind-the-ears and doesn't alleviate my nervousness at all. Its arguable if democrcy will work in Pakistan, but its still the safest bet. They said the same about India as well, 60 years ago. With all the impediments, angst and heartburn, we are still the world's largest democracy, thank you.
But will this cat ever be belled in Pakistan?
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Blue Frog writes a brand new chapter to musical history in the making...
History proves that some of the most epochal movements in the world have started innocuously, without great fanfare, without a mass hysteria. When Gandhi was forced to get off the train despite having valid ticket, it was initially a minor, innocuous incident. The rest is India’s history of independence. When Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat to a white person in Montgomery, Alabama, and was arrested in December 1955, she set off a train of events that generated a momentum the civil rights movement had never before experienced.
Tin Pan Alley, that set the ball rolling for jazz and blues during late 19th century is actually the 28th street between 5th Avenue and Broadway in New York that earned its name to symbolize the cacophony of the many pianos being pounded in publisher's demo rooms. The Gaslight Cafe was a coffee house located in the basement of 116 Macdougal Street, Greenwich Village, New York City that showcased beat poets Allen Ginsberg and Gregory Corso, and later became a folk club. Among those who performed at the Gaslight were Bob Dylan, Luke Faust, Richie Havens, Tom Paxton, Phil Ochs, Eric Anderson, and Dave Van Ronk. Mississippi John Hurt played there. Jimi Hendrix sat in one night at the Gaslight with John Hammond, Jr.
Last weekend, when Alex Alvear from Ecuador, leader and bassist-singer of the New York based Mango Blue, a high-powered, 7-member music ensemble with its infectious and refreshing Afro-Latin and world music sounds announced to the audience at Blue Frog, “We’ve travelled all over the world and played at some of the best clubs in the world. Let me tell you that we have not yet seen or played at a venue like this. The acoustics and the sound of this place are absolutely brilliant, the lay-out of the place is the best we have seen, and the people at the club and Mumbai in general are the best in the world,” I felt the whisperings of a similar epochal moment in modern Mumbai’s history-to-be.
Those of you who have never tried acid in your life will come close to the exhilarating, hallucinatory, out-of-body lysergic trip at Blue Frog. And those who have, are bound to experience a backlash. You’ve got to try out the Blue Frog!
I don’t understand the technology of acoustics, but without doubt this place has been built for music first, second and third. Drinks and dinner take the back seats – literally. Most clubs in Mumbai bring in music to attract patrons who will sample their food and beverages. At Blue Frog, you come for the music and have the option to try out the impeccably presented F&B.
That is the biggest differentiator of the Club.
The exotic cocktails, the sanitised world cuisine, the round plush pods, the giant video-art screens morphing images aesthetically are the frills that add to the experience but music is the central – and peripheral – theme out here. Something that this city and this country has not yet seen. And from what I hear from musicians who have played out here, perhaps the world too needs to witness.
If a well-travelled NY-based band with members from Venezuela, Puerto Rico, Brazil and the US can swear by – in unison – the venue’s integrity to sound, music and musicians, I can almost taste the trend it might set globally when the promised Blue Frog Records, Blue Frog Studios and Blue Frog Production goes full stream in a few months.
The timing seems to be just right.
Music all over the world is undergoing a rapid evolution through technology and globalisation. iPod, iTunes, youtube, internet, kaaza, mp3, etc. changing the very basic tenets of music production and distribution. India and the new breed of urban Indians are at the forefront of this evolutionary process. Why should music from India be only classical Hindustani or Bollywood?
There are entire generations in India who have grown up and are seeped in what can roughly be defined as popular music from all over the world. Not just those Indians who have travelled abroad, but even within the country, there are millions of Indians who think in musical idioms that are not strictly ethnic to Hindustan. Its is not just the popular western music that many Indians have grown on, there are hordes among us who are as influenced and awed by the sounds that have been emanating from Africa, Latin America, Europe across several musical genres. Sure, the fact that we have a rich native sound and musical tradition will only help in establishing our own musical hegemony, so to speak.
If India can represent ITeS of the world, give me one good reason why we can’t create a global music destination in India? We have the talent, the skills, the market, the taste, and of course we have the musical pedigree, don’t we! Add to that the vast potential of a hungry audience combined with the latent talent within our country, and the stage seems perfect for setting off The Next Big Thing in the Global Music Scene.
In order to establish the Blue Frog concept, remember, geography is merely incidental. This concept is as valid in Mumbai, as in NY, London , Paris or Tokyo , or any cosmopolitan city of the world. Blue Frog is not only about studios or music production or club; it is an integrated experience unique in appeal and attraction to audiences all over the world. Blue Frog Label will, hopefully promote artists on merit. A band based in Meghalaya has as much chance and opportunity to display their talent and cut a disc as a band from Burkina Faso. It sure portends to have an attitude this country has not yet seen – from food to flamenco, from Daiquiri to Dylan, from bebop to hip hop!
Just for a nostalgic perspective, the Village in NY gave birth to the Bohemian lifestyle of the 50s-60s. Jazz is said to begin with the opening of Storyville, New Orleans’ famous red-light district. Its roots, however, run further back, and draw sustenance from many different sources. The establishments in Storyville were not just centres for vice, they were a form of nightclub. Many of these brothels served liquor, and larger establishments would have a musician or a band. It was this opening-up of the job market that brought all sorts of musicians together, especially joining ragtime pianists with musicians from a more folksy blues background. Here musicians could hear and learn from each other and play together, merging their styles into a new thing: New Orleans jazz. The opening of Storyville is hailed as the most influential event in the invention of jazz. In the mingling of the many ethnic and musical strains in New Orleans, which occurred almost automatically in the laissez-faire climate of Storyville, New Orleans Style was born.
Maybe Mumbai still does not have that laissez faire climate yet, but who knows, the musicians and the audience from Mumbai, India and the world might well define and shape the scope of the Blue Frog Concept in the years to come.
I, for one, shall remain eternally hopeful.
Tin Pan Alley, that set the ball rolling for jazz and blues during late 19th century is actually the 28th street between 5th Avenue and Broadway in New York that earned its name to symbolize the cacophony of the many pianos being pounded in publisher's demo rooms. The Gaslight Cafe was a coffee house located in the basement of 116 Macdougal Street, Greenwich Village, New York City that showcased beat poets Allen Ginsberg and Gregory Corso, and later became a folk club. Among those who performed at the Gaslight were Bob Dylan, Luke Faust, Richie Havens, Tom Paxton, Phil Ochs, Eric Anderson, and Dave Van Ronk. Mississippi John Hurt played there. Jimi Hendrix sat in one night at the Gaslight with John Hammond, Jr.
Last weekend, when Alex Alvear from Ecuador, leader and bassist-singer of the New York based Mango Blue, a high-powered, 7-member music ensemble with its infectious and refreshing Afro-Latin and world music sounds announced to the audience at Blue Frog, “We’ve travelled all over the world and played at some of the best clubs in the world. Let me tell you that we have not yet seen or played at a venue like this. The acoustics and the sound of this place are absolutely brilliant, the lay-out of the place is the best we have seen, and the people at the club and Mumbai in general are the best in the world,” I felt the whisperings of a similar epochal moment in modern Mumbai’s history-to-be.
Those of you who have never tried acid in your life will come close to the exhilarating, hallucinatory, out-of-body lysergic trip at Blue Frog. And those who have, are bound to experience a backlash. You’ve got to try out the Blue Frog!
I don’t understand the technology of acoustics, but without doubt this place has been built for music first, second and third. Drinks and dinner take the back seats – literally. Most clubs in Mumbai bring in music to attract patrons who will sample their food and beverages. At Blue Frog, you come for the music and have the option to try out the impeccably presented F&B.
That is the biggest differentiator of the Club.
The exotic cocktails, the sanitised world cuisine, the round plush pods, the giant video-art screens morphing images aesthetically are the frills that add to the experience but music is the central – and peripheral – theme out here. Something that this city and this country has not yet seen. And from what I hear from musicians who have played out here, perhaps the world too needs to witness.
If a well-travelled NY-based band with members from Venezuela, Puerto Rico, Brazil and the US can swear by – in unison – the venue’s integrity to sound, music and musicians, I can almost taste the trend it might set globally when the promised Blue Frog Records, Blue Frog Studios and Blue Frog Production goes full stream in a few months.
The timing seems to be just right.
Music all over the world is undergoing a rapid evolution through technology and globalisation. iPod, iTunes, youtube, internet, kaaza, mp3, etc. changing the very basic tenets of music production and distribution. India and the new breed of urban Indians are at the forefront of this evolutionary process. Why should music from India be only classical Hindustani or Bollywood?
There are entire generations in India who have grown up and are seeped in what can roughly be defined as popular music from all over the world. Not just those Indians who have travelled abroad, but even within the country, there are millions of Indians who think in musical idioms that are not strictly ethnic to Hindustan. Its is not just the popular western music that many Indians have grown on, there are hordes among us who are as influenced and awed by the sounds that have been emanating from Africa, Latin America, Europe across several musical genres. Sure, the fact that we have a rich native sound and musical tradition will only help in establishing our own musical hegemony, so to speak.
If India can represent ITeS of the world, give me one good reason why we can’t create a global music destination in India? We have the talent, the skills, the market, the taste, and of course we have the musical pedigree, don’t we! Add to that the vast potential of a hungry audience combined with the latent talent within our country, and the stage seems perfect for setting off The Next Big Thing in the Global Music Scene.
In order to establish the Blue Frog concept, remember, geography is merely incidental. This concept is as valid in Mumbai, as in NY, London , Paris or Tokyo , or any cosmopolitan city of the world. Blue Frog is not only about studios or music production or club; it is an integrated experience unique in appeal and attraction to audiences all over the world. Blue Frog Label will, hopefully promote artists on merit. A band based in Meghalaya has as much chance and opportunity to display their talent and cut a disc as a band from Burkina Faso. It sure portends to have an attitude this country has not yet seen – from food to flamenco, from Daiquiri to Dylan, from bebop to hip hop!
Just for a nostalgic perspective, the Village in NY gave birth to the Bohemian lifestyle of the 50s-60s. Jazz is said to begin with the opening of Storyville, New Orleans’ famous red-light district. Its roots, however, run further back, and draw sustenance from many different sources. The establishments in Storyville were not just centres for vice, they were a form of nightclub. Many of these brothels served liquor, and larger establishments would have a musician or a band. It was this opening-up of the job market that brought all sorts of musicians together, especially joining ragtime pianists with musicians from a more folksy blues background. Here musicians could hear and learn from each other and play together, merging their styles into a new thing: New Orleans jazz. The opening of Storyville is hailed as the most influential event in the invention of jazz. In the mingling of the many ethnic and musical strains in New Orleans, which occurred almost automatically in the laissez-faire climate of Storyville, New Orleans Style was born.
Maybe Mumbai still does not have that laissez faire climate yet, but who knows, the musicians and the audience from Mumbai, India and the world might well define and shape the scope of the Blue Frog Concept in the years to come.
I, for one, shall remain eternally hopeful.
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