odd moments, where you’re confronted with your own reality and wonder if Alain de Button was correct when he said:
We dislike most people too much to do them the honour of arguing with them.
I made a promise to some friends to start writing again. Regardless of my lack of digital discipline or my offline ADHD lifestyle, I think way too much to not be sharing. And since sharing is caring became my new ‘Kumbaya-licious motto’, there’s absolutely no way to not live up to my words. A summer later, and a rain too short, I come to the conclusion that I fit Alain’s statement like a glove. This doesn’t mean, that more positive adjectives or superlatives couldn’t describe my experience in a nutshell, because they can. In fact, new worlds opened to me between century old trees while I listened to the Black Keys’ ‘Too Afraid to Love You’ on my phone.
It’s heaven on earth
In her embrace
Her gentle touch
And her smiling face (Too Afraid to Love)
Some days, it was truly heaven on earth, the smiling faces beamed gratitude and other days, the dark clouds added a few wrinkles to my face, but music always saved me a smile on the side. And if I have to give shout outs to something and someone. I must acknowledge the soundtrack to my summer; Brothers by the Black Keys, by far the most refined, raw, satin-like poetry set to music I have consumed this summer.
A sinister kid is a kid who
Runs to meet his Maker
A drop dead sprint from the day he’s born
Straight into his Maker’s arms
And that’s me, that’s me
The boy with the broken halo
That’s me, that’s me
The devil won’t let me be (Sinister Kid)
At the start of the Ramadan, one shouldn’t associate themselves with anything sinister, but this song touches my inner evilness and if it wasn’t for my lack of (any) editing or film making skills, I would have been making the video to this song, RIGHT NOW.
Growing up, I didn’t care much for Somali music, only could bear a few icons and if annoyed, I would imitated the great pop singers with a whiny voice. Back then CNN reports of refugee camps in Ethiopia or Kenya were visual background themes to my childhood. So, the music of my mother’s teenage years seemed so far a way.
(Iftin, Somali supergroup via Likembe.net)
Throughout the years, I have discussed the current state of Somali music with my mother, professors, friends and random people. These conversations have helped me reached the point, where I feel the world is ready for an introduction to Somali pop music from the 70s and 80s. In the upcoming months, I’ll use this blog to enfold a world and collect the creme de la creme of icons, singers and musical storytellers. So, after watching another disturbing documentary on the adventures of Somali pirates and the land of disaster, I could not bear absorbing another storyline which showcases the hopelessness of diplomacy, politics and the inhumane day to day life of the Somalis. So, I decided to explore our positive, beautiful, immaculate stories through music. After all, Somali music is an unknown entity and the new soldiers of music ethnologists haven’t set foot on the soil of Maqool, Mandeeq or Omar Dhuule.
In a country, where turmoil runs deeper than blood, music is not only an outlet but a lifeline reminding the wounded ones that hope is not wasted on the streets like the blood of a nation. Somali music as opposed to clan music, based on folklore traditions consists of a combination between the tender melodies of the nomads, explosive hot drumbeats and just a little colorful instrumental accompaniment. Depending on the era, you’ll ears might recognize a little dub reggae, rumba, jazz and funk; genres which were celebrated and redefined to fit the compositions like a glove.
The bummy look has confiscated my world. As much as I would like to graduate to worthwhile items, my love for scruffy cheapness and almost empty wallet control my shopping experience. Nonetheless, below some inspiration to steal for :).
inspiration
romantique
great make up
A balloon. A square. History surrounds her youthfulness. Yet, the future seems to be embracing her dreams. In simplicity lies beauty. I snatched this photo off the Dazed & Confused special cover on China & its magical art and pop world. Just, because, it reminded me of myself at her age. A time where hours dragged on and I spent many days living in my head or writing stories about lions who fought with aliens in another galaxy. Imagination ruled my kingdom. Perhaps, an era dipped in nostalgia, after all the sun wasn’t always as bright in the 90s, as me and my fellow semi late twenty folks would love to think.
Nevertheless, nothing beats the promising adventures of childhood, not even my future addiction to coffee :).
http://www.vimeo.com/8907715
Music artists are exploring and expanding their artistic reach, after all an album is not enough anymore. A great example, which has been on rotation since last week, is Baloji’s ‘Karibu Ya Bintou’. A story set in the streets of Kinshasa, Congo, in the spirit of the great Muhammed Ali’s classic ‘Rumble in the Jungle’. This sounds like the perfect movie for a beautiful summer night, so let’s hope Baloji builds the story to something which surpasses the 4 minutes and stills our hunger for a new 21st classic set in Kinshasa.
The world’s economical turmoil often leads to increasing rates of divorce everywhere. Basic cliche science, right?! Well, allegedly, divorce is slowly shedding off negative connotations, since people are finding ways to celebrate new beginnings. And where there’s a need, someone will supply :), so The London- based baker Fay Millar started creating and selling the cynical yet humorous cakes to meet the growing good riddance/freedom parties. According to the cake trendsetter, inquiries about her cakes come mostly from ex-wives who want to celebrate with friends. In other words, it sounds like the ex-wife club is gaining ground in London.
I might have found a new market to exploit in the Netherlands and maybe my favorite bakery around the corner will be willing to chip in and score some extra euros in 2010.
A few days ago, I read an article in the Dutch newspaper ‘Volkskrant’ on the ‘Niet Normaal (not Normal) exhibition at the Beurs of Berlage, which has been beyond well promoted in Amsterdam. Often this means the organization is either rich or kissed by the golden gloves of the art funds. Despite its PR machine, its the content or the intention of the exhibition, which I find intriguing, because it explores what is and isn’t normal through the work of ‘contemporary artists. I thought it was an excellent way of capturing the equilibrium of our societies global search for perfection. After all when perfection is a society’s norm, what happens when people divert or not live up to society’s expectations?
Sometime this week, I’ll get on my bike and head out to the land of artsy people to answer these questions :).
