Fifty Stories From 2016

Hello, my name is Akhil Sood, and here is a not random but also not very cohesive collection of fifty of the pieces I wrote in 2016.

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Billions of words on Radiohead’s A Moon Shaped Pool, an album that, I think, may be one of those rare life-changing records and will stay with me for a long long long long time: http://lostsyllables.blogspot.in/2016/09/it-was-just-laugh-just-lie-just-laugh.html

Searching for the Great Indian Dream in Jodhpur: https://www.101india.com/travel-food/bharat-mata-ki-jai-tale-many-indias

One week on, how Versova gaon was ravaged by demonetisation: http://www.thehindu.com/features/magazine/How-this-Mumbai-koliwada-is-tiding-over-demonetisation/article16668984.ece?css=print 

A weird introduction to the underground dance music scene of Colombo at a party inside a 100-year-old building: http://www.bordermovement.com/the-pettah-interchange-2016-a-wild-weird-encounter-with-the-colombo-underground/ 

The time I went to a shiterature festival and wrote about all the things I saw: https://www.101india.com/arts-culture/nothing-happens-nobody-comes-nobody-goes-its-awful

The death of the middle ground and how I felt dirty about stereotyping JNU kids in the aftermath of the Kanhaiya Kumar thing: http://www.arre.co.in/humour/the-death-of-the-jnu-stereotype/

Trying to understand the inner workings of SundogProject’s frontman, Rahul Das: http://www.thehindu.com/entertainment/music/An-obstinate-vision-of-music/article16232154.ece

Getting drunk and talking about big-city life with Donn Bhat: https://www.101india.com/music/connected-disconnected-donn-bhat-never-signing-out   

Driveway cricket, a game modern times have left behind: http://www.arre.co.in/culture/cricket-delhi-pokemon-punjab-fifa-street/

A weird, experimental series of gigs called the Listening Room: https://www.101india.com/music/listening-room-songs-noise-disquiet-bakery

Can you stoners please stop eating all my food?: http://www.arre.co.in/culture/hey-potheads-leave-the-food-alone/

My attempt at trying to (and failing completely) to understand all the buzz around Game of Thrones: http://www.arre.co.in/culture/what-happens-when-you-just-dont-get-got/ 

The thick haze that finally woke Delhi up (only briefly, in hindsight): http://www.arre.co.in/earth/air-pollution-in-delhi-modi-smog-diwali/

Two very different percussionists and how they’re not actually all that different: http://www.thehindubusinessline.com/blink/watch/ben-walsh-and-nathulal-solanki-a-tale-of-two-drummers/article9382408.ece

Reviewing Rock On 2, a nothing film that couldn’t even be offensive properly: http://www.dailyo.in/arts/rock-on-2-film-review-farhan-akhtar-arjun-rampal-shraddha-kapoor-music-bollywood/story/1/14001.html

Trying to capture, in a few thousand words, the unreasonable rise of hip hop as a movement in India: http://rollingstoneindia.com/rise-of-indian-hip-hop-cover-story/

The transformation of St. Jude Bakery into this super hip workspace/test kitchen/experimental space/popup/gig venue/art gallery: http://www.thehindu.com/features/magazine/akhil-sood-on-the-bohemian-st-jude-bakery-in-bandra/article8654988.ece

Palika Bazaar, a remnant of my childhood lying in tatters (well, technically the opposite), functioning as just another mall: http://www.thehindu.com/features/magazine/No-longer-underground/article14492632.ece

The mean-spirited attacks directed the way of Taher Shah by nudge-nudge-wink-wink hipsters trying to fill the gaping hole in their hearts: http://www.dailyo.in/arts/taher-shah-angel-eye-to-eye-youtube-pop-music-pakistan-yoko-ono/story/1/9987.html

The politics of the Ska Vengers: http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/mumbai/entertainment/Kicking-up-a-rumpus/article14468910.ece

Barely able to conceal my excitement after ‘Burn the Witch’ was released, a few days before the ‘Daydreaming’ video and the whole album came out: https://www.101india.com/music/radiohead-equals-mass-hysteria-incredible-hype-around-their-stunning-new-single

A trip to Haji Ali, via the busiest shopping mall in the whole world: http://www.thehindu.com/features/magazine/a-walk-across-the-sea-takes-you-through-a-shoppers-scrum-to-a-serene-haji-ali/article8569612.ece

On books, aka nice-smelling furniture: https://www.thequint.com/life/2016/03/05/the-smell-of-old-books-vs-plain-vanity-what-makes-us-buy-books

How Thomas Pynchon ruined my life: http://www.thehindu.com/features/magazine/Thomas-Pynchon-changed-my-life.../article14985406.ece

How I went for a hip hop gig in Bombay and was BLOWN AWAY: https://www.101india.com/music/hip-hop-homeland-live-inherent-unquestionable-coolness-hip-hop

Disco Puppet, a weirdo musician forever trying out different things: http://www.thehindu.com/entertainment/music/Mood-swings-sound-swings-music-swings/article15613633.ece

The now-depressing mediocrity of Coldplay, in the immediate aftermath of their ridiculous Holi music video: https://www.101india.com/funny/coldplay-whichever-way-you-look-it-mediocre-band

Leicester City, my adopted team for the 2015/16 season, and the greatest underdog story of modern sport: http://www.dailyo.in/sports/leicester-city-english-premier-league-manchester-united-chelsea-jamie-vardy-arsenal-riyad-mahrez/story/1/9205.html 

Virat Kohli may piss me off but he’s exactly what India needs: http://www.dailyo.in/sports/virat-kohli-asia-cup-team-india-vs-pakistan-t20-cricket-sachin-tendulkar-dravid-dhoni-laxman-ganguly/story/1/9289.html

My accidental seal-breaking journey on a business class seat in an airplane: http://www.arre.co.in/humour/fat-cat-2-hours-fling-business-class/

Beards, crocs, tight shirts, excess cologne, pointed shoes: The strange world of men’s fashion: http://www.dailyo.in/lifestyle/indian-mens-fashion-beard-no-shave-masculinity-sexism/story/1/9906.html

Handing out my special awards for the English Premier League 2015/16 season: https://www.101india.com/sports/101india-english-premier-league-awards

Comedians in a car not getting coffee: http://www.thehindu.com/entertainment/music/Music-lyrics-and-jokes/article16754282.ece

Thank god we’re done with the IPL circus: https://www.101india.com/sports/ipl-circus-leaving-town-hopefully

A very cool collaborative/anthology-style album written at a house in Karachi: http://www.bordermovement.com/karachi-files-celebrating-the-spirit-of-collaboration-cultural-diversity/ 

  

Whatever in the world happened to floaters?: http://www.dailyo.in/lifestyle/fashion-footwear-shoes-floaters-velcro-crocs-hush-puppies/story/1/9461.html

Britney Spears, the bulletproof popstar: http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/mumbai/entertainment/Daring-you-to-stand-in-her-way/article15420925.ece

   

What the hell does ‘indie’ mean anyway?: http://www.thehindu.com/entertainment/music/It-smells-like-indie-spirit-or-does-it/article16738454.ece

Remembering the great Johan Cruyff: https://www.101india.com/people/johan-cruyff-footballs-timeless-maverick-dictating-how-game-watched-india

  

How Gurgaon will suddenly become an amazing city now that its name has been changed to, um, Gurugram: http://www.arre.co.in/humour/gurugram-say-hello-to-the-amazing-city/

The farce of weekly tribute gigs in India, written after I saw a poster for something called a Tribute to John Mayer (!): https://www.101india.com/music/have-we-earned-right-play-tribute-gigs

How DJs and electronic musicians suck and real music is made by cocky, arrogant, out of touch instrumentalists who still believe in a musical heirarchy: https://www.101india.com/music/djs-and-electronic-musicians-are-just-frauds-and-imposters-conning-innocent-listeners-and

What if Lionel Messi had been the captain of the Indian cricket team?: http://www.arre.co.in/satire/lionel-kumar-messi-haaye-haaye/  

Previewing Euro 2016: https://www.101india.com/sports/previewing-euro-2016-tragedy-farce-and-unfettered-joy

Remember John Abraham talking about football?: http://www.arre.co.in/culture/football-shootball-hai-rabba/

Salman Khan is a modern day superhero is what he is: http://www.arre.co.in/satire/the-future-is-bhai-salman-khan-acquittal/

Osama Bin Laden’s execution being, for some reason, live-tweeted five years after his ‘encounter’: http://www.arre.co.in/pov/the-ublraid-tweets-an-exercise-in-grandstanding-glorification/

Music stores used to be all cool at one point but let’s not get too carried away please: http://www.dailyo.in/arts/music-stores-planet-m-guns-n-roses-radiohead-90s-kids-millenials-mtv-beatles-britney-spears/story/1/10387.html

Understanding how the greatness of a song works by looking at a song allegedly written by Led Zeppelin, called ‘Stairway to Heaven’: http://indianexpress.com/article/lifestyle/art-and-culture/theres-a-songbird-who-steals-2917845/ 

Review of Mogwai’s stunning, and also a little uncomfortable, score for the film Atomic: http://www.sundayguardianlive.com/music/4152-music-review-mogwai-s-latest-album-about-hope-and-careful-optimism-face-despair

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It was just a laugh just a lie just a laugh just a laugh

I don’t want to go on for too long about ‘Identikit’ because I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop. So let’s just talk briefly about the one guitar on the side running through the song, mostly picking up steam in the second half. It’s not an angry part, but it follows the trajectory of repressed anger faithfully. Short, sudden jolts of expression peek out from time to time, before the protagonist retracts and retreats, aware that it’s not always a smart idea to be too animated in public. Such as when said protagonist is standing in a queue or in an overcrowded train compartment. She lets out little sighs and other sounds of disapproval every time she gets nudged in the side or smacked in the jaw by a stray arm. Then someone cuts the line so she starts off, measured and composed and rational and balanced and logical. She’s keeping it together — just about.

But then, when that one asshole steps on her foot, that’s when shit hits the ceiling. Which is the last 30 seconds of the song: the guitar solo. It’s an outburst, bursting at the seams with rage and fury and yet surprisingly composed and articulate. It has to be ‘Identikit’. I’ll get to the ‘it’ in a while.

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I’m sick of A Moon Shaped Pool — I swear. Each time ‘Burn The Witch’ starts off with its ratatatting strings — played with a guitar pick, because where’s the fun otherwise? — I feel this urge to shove a pair of tweezers into my ear and pull out the drum. But before we get ahead of ourselves, I feel I should clarify that the fault, as with most things, is entirely mine, and not the music’s. This is an album that, for the past four months and nine days, has been an inextractable (not a word, but it means “that which cannot be extracted”) part of my physical existence.

I have abused the record to a worrying degree. I’ve heard it in autos, rickshaws, Olas, Ubers (which I recently started using because they let me pay in cash now), aeroplanes (because I’m rich), trains (because I’m not rich), on motorcycles and scooters, on bicycles, tricycles, and unicycles — while driving too, until Delhi’s finest suspended my license for being 2 km over the speed limit. And while walking. And sitting/lying down.

I’ve actually literally without exaggeration run through two sets of earphones. One is an Apple and it’s all worn out now, but it still sort of works. The previous ones were these really cool Sennheiser earphones that I had to cremate because they packed up, and now I’ve bought a new pair just like those (because their price dropped). (I think even the MP3 files I have have started crackling a bit.) Further, it may sound like a giant coincidence (but it’s not) but, in addition to the earphones, I’ve also had to get a new phone and a new laptop.

It’s understandable then that I don’t want to see its face again. Just the thought of it makes me wince. These days, after four long months, I sometimes try to listen to other music as well. And I can’t manage it. Two songs, maybe three tops, into any other album I decide to hear, I get separation anxiety. I get real actual pangs. I suddenly develop serious abandonment issues. Which is when I throw away the album I’m listening to (metaphorically), and go back to ‘Burn The Witch’. And then I feel safe and comfortable and content and at ease and peaceful and also a little agitated and unsettled and twitchy. So I take back all that dramatic stuff about being sick of the album and wanting to rip out my ear-drum because I don’t. Apologies. It's a strange kind of limbo I find myself in, where I want to hear it when I'm not, but when I am I want to not. But I also do. 

Anyway, so then just in terms of time spent and obsession indulged, A Moon Shaped Pool ranks right up there in my arbitrary list of greatest-of-all-time albums. I don’t think it’s topped OK Computer or Kid A/Amnesiac just yet, but it’s early days. There are a bunch of other albums on that list too (yes, I do in fact listen to other bands as well). Most (if not all) of those albums are more than a few years old. Which is not to say that there hasn’t been anything worth my time in the last three or four years — not at all; quite the opposite, in fact — or that I’m living in the past.

There’s a slightly deeper point. It’s that, I think, the greatness of an album truly comes to the surface in hindsight. It’s hard to tell how good a good album is when it first comes out (except maybe in exceptional cases). Longevity, then, dictates an album’s status in the imaginary history of music.

Like, you have to revisit an album multiple times, across different moods and life-situations, across different contexts, to really gauge its impact on you beyond just the immediate. And all of that takes time. Last year, I remember falling in love with a handful of albums — off the top of my head: The Demon Joke, Junun, The Best Day (or was that the year before?). But I haven’t yet gone back to that music enough to know definitively. By my own metrics, right now the most recent set of albums on my list are from, I think, 2013. So I guess maybe two-and-a-half-to-three years after release is an appropriate time to make an assessment? For whatever reasons, all that’s happened in express speed with AMSP, or maybe it’s the exception. Whatever.

But this is not one of those self-serving exercises where I claim an album is great and you, the reader, are expected to just believe me. (Well, it is a little bit, but it goes beyond that.) While the year has been absolutely horrid in terms of most other things, 2016 has been great for music. I don’t want to waste time rattling off a list, but there’ve been a lot of very cool releases this year (including these gems). For what it’s worth, it’s re-stoked my interest (which never waned, to be honest) in the fart-filled intellectual concepts surrounding an ‘album’ — what it stands for, how it should be released, how it’s priced, who’s listening, why, the works.  

One important factor in determining said status of an album has to be the difficulty in zeroing in on a stand-out song (although that applies to shitty albums just as well, but we’re assuming a basic level of common sense here). Like: What is the stand-out song from Nevermind? Is it ‘Lithium’, or ‘In Bloom’, or ‘Polly’, or ‘Teen Spirit’, or ‘Drain You’, or ‘Come As You Are’, or ‘Breed’? I don’t know. Apply this to any album you love — chances are, it’ll work.

So there’s ‘Burn The Witch’, with its jittery arrangement of strings gnawing at you, while this huge, glorious vocal melody — that seems almost to follow an altogether different song — washes over the structure. The squeaks get progressively more restless; the words becoming increasingly ominous and larger-than-life. There's a fairly drastic transition into the underwater piano opening of ‘Daydreaming’, which is such an absurdly understated song. The first time I heard it, I kept waiting, kept expecting it to explode into like a bigger, all-out peak of some kind (think ‘Exit Music For A Film’). Ab aayega… ab aayega… ab aayega. It never came. Which was amazing. You know, I was hoping for a crescendo not just on the first listen but also the second, third, and fourth ones. Took me some six tries before I figured out the peak was already there, just that it was buried: the slithering, shapeshifting strings that sound like a truck horn. It grows on you in such an unnatural way, really. I don’t want to sound too gushy (too late), but it has this remarkable quality that very few songs have, where they end and you feel just a little shortchanged. That there should be more — I wouldn’t want to let go just yet. The sadness of something finishing sets in even before that something actually finishes. It is — please slap me for resorting to such low-hanging descriptions — poignant.   

As an aside, sometimes you (I) judge an album’s greatness on just one or two songs. Like there’s this album called Spry From Bitter Anise Folds by Fifths of Seven, a Canadian band from the Godspeed You! Black Emperor camp. I don’t want to start describing a wholly different album now, but it has one song, ‘Rosa Centifolia’, that makes me revisit it every few months. In that respect, AMSP, just with its two opening songs, makes the cut (plus 'Identikit'). As in, it’s good enough. You move on to ‘Decks Dark’ next, which is when you realise that the album has this watery sense of melodic focus — it’s channeled via big, expressive moments, but then each song is packed to the brim with those moments, with layer after layer serving a very real, very critical purpose. Not a note, not a single left-to-right-lilting-reverb pan here, is extraneous.

There’s ‘The Numbers’, which has a panoramic, pastoral sense of openness that reveals itself to you right up front with a very endearing sense of vulnerability. ‘Present Tense’ sounds, to me, like a songwriting synthesis of the two previous songs, ‘Identikit’ and ‘The Numbers’ — a solid enough recipe. Plus it has a playful sense of dynamic movement that gives the song a cat-and-mouse air. Despite its very cool name and broad and unexpected orchestral arrangements, ‘Tinker Tailor Soldier Sailor Rich Man Poor Man Beggar Man Thief’ falls slightly short for me personally. It gets into a very constrained space that’s often a little claustrophobic so I have to, from time to time, skip it to avoid any onset of full-blown panic followed by full-blown gloom.

‘Ful Stop’ has all its jazz-rocky coolness that’s so blatant in the distant, fade-in, whirring drums, with a vocal delivery straight from the Kid A/Amnesiac school of obscure, mumbly, far-away lines. But, in comparison to the rest of the record, its novelty does wear off eventually, to the point where it’s become a song I (sometimes) skip. ‘Glass Eyes’ (yes, Thom Yorke wrote a song called ‘Glass Eyes’, as another reminder that the band has a sense of humour) seems almost like filler at first, until it stops being so. The song seems, for me, to fall in a space it shares with songs like ‘Faust Arp’ or ‘Wolf At The Door’ in that it resides on a restrained, folksy register — sort of like a calculated lull in the narrative of the album’s story.

Back to D, since the track-list is alphabetically arranged, ‘Desert Island Disk’, again a little folksy in its design, is a song I heard a few months ago, when Thom Yorke premiered an acoustic version of it. I didn’t like it much then, or when I first heard the album. But it grew from being my least favourite song off this new record to not being that at all. It picks out these unexpected notes that transform the song into impressionism repeatedly — whatever that means.

Eventually, though, we must get to ‘True Love Waits’. Here’s a song that’s been around for ages. I heard it like a decade or something ago, after reading about it on fan forums everywhere. It was such a thing. And it never really worked for me. Sure, the words are lovely and Yorke really gives it everything on the acoustic version, but it was always nothing more than a Good Song, and also a song I couldn’t claim to dislike too much because, come on, it’s ‘True Love Waits’. But it just seemed a little bit… pedestrian.

And May happened. I change my mind about things all the time, but I don’t remember doing a quicker about-face in the recent past. Within the first few bars of the song, with its deconstructed chords plunked kindly on the piano and Yorke’s older (on the verge of crackling), wiser, world-weary voice, I was sold. Worth the wait, I’d say.

Which brings me back to my somewhat-submerged sort-of-point, which is that I can’t figure out the stand-out song here. I’ve had six to eight different favourites, all in four months (as detailed painstakingly above), and I can’t make up my mind. I don’t know which ones to skip. If I ever become a playlist-person, I don’t know which of these songs would make it to those Happy Mood/Sad Mood/Pensive Mood/Light-Hearted Mood/Wacky Mood lists. It’s a problem, just not one that I’m complaining about.

As a post-script, I should add that I’m well aware that the rhapsodising here makes me one of those people, the kind of fan everyone laughs at. But it goes further than that. It’s dawned upon me only very recently that I’m not 17 anymore, that I haven’t been for the past 12 years. So I’ve been living with a constant, irrational fear that the magic may be gone. That the thrill of discovering something new will begin to fade and the edges will get rounded off. That the boredom of age will be couched as “personal growth”, where cynicism takes the place of rampant enthusiasm — and Joy. So it’s as much appreciation as it is a giant fucking relief that I haven’t yet reached that stage.