Many years ago — 2012, I think — I was living in an apartment in
Bombay on Veera Desai Road. My room had a tiny balcony, which had been invaded
by a family of pigeons that I hated very much. One evening, my two flatmates
were watching some music video on repeat in one of the other guys’ room. I was
feeling left out so I joined in. It was some slow-motion thing that they — film-school
alumni which they were — were drooling over. It was nice, like one of those
short films you can’t understand but it keeps you gripped.
The artist was Flying Lotus. The song was called ‘Hunger’.
Somewhere around the two-minute mark, the song flipped on its head, ditching
its previously established languid indolence. It went into this disconnected
and ridiculously beautiful fingerpicked guitar bit. I knew I’d heard it before.
I knew it. I KNEW IT. But for the life
of me, I couldn’t figure out where in hell I’d heard it. This is the problem
with listening to a lot of instrumental music: when you hear something, you don’t
have a distinct voice attached to it; there’s no Aadhar no. identifying the
artist on first glance. So you have to force your brain to think.
By the second or third viewing, I knew — I. Fucking. Knew. — that this little guitar line on a Flying
Lotus song had something to do with Radiohead. A) Because of my obsession with
Radiohead, most things eventually circle back to the band. But more importantly,
B) I’d read of some link between FlyLo and Radiohead — that Radiohead were fans
and had helped him get some media attention, or the other way round. Or
something. Just that there was a connection.
It became a tic. This happens often with me, and just about
everyone I know. Where you’re out, randomly enjoying or hating the shit out of
life, and then suddenly this incomplete fact pops into your head and you have
to complete it. So you try Google (previously known as an encyclopedia), you
Phone-A-Friend, you throw a fit. Whatever it takes.
This live-screening that I was a part of, which set off my
psychosis, took placed late in the night, at like 1 a.m. or something. I left
that room irritated, scratching my arms and head. I went back into my room and destroyed
my night.
Here’s what I did: I listened to every single Radiohead song there is in existence. In chronological
order. Whatever MP3s I didn’t have, I YouTubed (in those pre-Spotify days). Of
course, I didn’t listen to each song from start to finish; I skimmed through
most of them. But I made sure to cover all the different parts — the intros,
the choruses, the verses, the unexpected discursion, the extended bridges and
outros. With every passing album, as I neared the completion of their discography
as well as the impending sunrise, I got more and more agitated. Mentally of
course, but it was also physically uncomfortable. This was the least fun I’d
ever had listening to Radiohead, and I’d had some terrible times listening to
them in the past.
--
Anyway, this went on for what seemed like forever. I thought of
giving up in between; I took a short break that could have become an indefinite
one had I not been such an idiot. Eventually, I was done with Radiohead. I’d
aged 10 years: my joints hurt, my hair — whatever hadn’t fallen out — had turned
grey; I was yelling at kids that didn’t exist. It was the worst.
But I soldiered on. This was my white whale. I moved on from
Radiohead to band member Jonny Greenwood. I’ve been an obsessive fan of his for
donkey’s years as well, and I was at this point still 100% certain that I’d
find that damn guitar line. I heard his score to Bodysong, and didn’t find it. I moved on to There Will Be Blood, knowing fully well that there was no bloody
way I’d find it on it; that was the last one (this was before Inherent
Vice or even The Master had come
out). I was losing hope when, out of nowhere, I thought of checking out his obscure
score for Norwegian Wood, a 2010
Japanese film adapted from the novel.
I had to hunt through my laptop to find the folder that had the
album. Here’s the thing: the song titles for his Norwegian Wood score are all in Japanese which, cool as it is,
makes it a nightmare to keep track of songs. So I had to listen to every single
song on it from start to finish, waiting patiently, knowing that I’d find it.
Or that I’d be found out finally.
By around the middle of the album... boom! There it was. It’s a
song called, well, something in Japanese. It's just a two-minute guitar line
that goes on for a few bars and, once it’s done its job, it goes away. Never
before or since have I felt so triumphant, so relieved. And so sleepy. The sun was
out.
--
Epilogue:
As the
story goes, Jonny Greenwood’s score for the latest PTA film, Phantom Thread, is releasing on January 12.
They’ve just put out a new song off it, called ‘House Of Woodcock’, and it’s
quite something. Also, the name of the white whale song is translated to “Don’t
read things that have not had the baptism of time”.
x
