Archive for the ‘personal’ Category

Hasta la vis..errr I'll be bach

A few sounds from the Footprints’ archive.


Wallace Collection – Daydream

Clint Mansell – Memories (Someone We’ll Never Know)

Gloria Gaynor – Tainted Love

Queens Of The Stone Age – Lullaby

Saul Williams – Twice Upon A Time

Leadbelly – Black Girl (In The Pines)

Alu – Martian Rendezvous

Work has kept me away. Will soon come out and play.

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Don’t panic if Box.net, Limelinx or YouTube tells you that the file has been removed.

Send an email and I’ll show you where to find it.


The popularity of IPL befuddles me like a salad bar would a rabid pack of wolverines, but that still doesn’t make this guy’s running commentary about it any less funnier.

In a curious case of self-referential behavior, the commentators are repeatedly referring to the “unbelievable noise out there

His mauling of the loathsome ads shown during the live coverage is even more hilarious.

Nice going, LG. Gay incest innuendo totally works to sell air conditioners to middle class indians.”

Check out his commentary @  http://twitter.com/eyepeeyell

…and again, don’t panic.

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Music succeeds where people fail whenever confronted by moments of superfluous depression. The sort that settles in when we realize that given a chance we would drop our identities sooner than a disgusting habit. We can sound like a sad bunch of orphaned sunflower children sometimes. Mentally dressed in precious little tutus and prancing around, begging someone to make sense of this dull pain we call discontent yet never once trying anything meaningful to fix it. Abandoning the life we lead and going in search of our version of the truth might sound enticing and we all have seen at least three films about it, but actually going through with it requires a beautiful sort of reckless abandon and the truth is, most of us are so pre-conditioned towards idle comforts that we would lose track and end up worse off than before. Pshhh we can be such wussies.

It is during these moments of introspection and a whole lot of head-nodding I wonder what I do without music. I mean, you can’t talk to people about this sort of shit. Chances are your close friends have their share of failed dreams they haven’t yet shared with you in morbid fear of ending up like you, feebly fighting both insecurities and delusions of self-importance. So the best thing to do is to put your butt on the bed and double-click some media player icon on the laptop. It doesn’t even have to be that song that you have drank or cried to a zillion times before. It could be something left to rot on some self-indulgent blog or a theme song of a Wim Wenders film. Matter of fact, you don’t have to look for it; like some cheap advertising catchphrase, it will find you.

Ahhh music, (cue melodramatic theme song), if you ever leave me, I will find you and kill you.

Watch/ Listen/Download
Whatever finds you before Dr Phil does

If the musicians aren’t owned by a major label

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Few things make living in Chennai seem consistently worthwhile. Its residents are so eager to camouflage their identities with silly colours and wanton tributes to socio-cultural diversity that nobody really knows what to make of us, Chennaites, anymore. Even product companies with their infinite market researched wisdom and soul-exchanging contracts with Satan can’t seem to figure us out.

Thankfully, a vast coastline, with tiny beaches suckling at its teat, snarling at the city from the outskirts is one of those silver linings that distract us. All the rubbish, the unruly derelicts and the annoying Hare Krishna foreigners quietly fade into the background, giving way to the glory of buttery chicken sandwiches, crumbling architecture, cigarettes, the sea, and good company.

She paints beautifully over my weekend’s canvas…

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I don’t subscribe to any particular theory on artistic integrity, irregardless of the medium…after all everyone’s got to paid sometime right? All this nonsense about “oh that? That’s not art” is purely subjective; each of us has an imaginary line that blurs out any artist who steps over it. I think Herzog is one of the greatest directors ever…I also think that modern R&B sucks. I’m neither right nor wrong; just an opinion that makes it obvious that I let my definition of art govern my discovery of more, as do you. In fact even similarities in taste doesn’t add an ounce of credibility to whatever it is we admire; it just means that we are people who have common aesthetical grounds and who prioritize art above, let’s say, dental insurance or casual ogling at bus stops, and hence it is only natural that we feel let down when it doesn’t serve its purpose for us.

There isn’t any universal algorithm that can determine the purity of art. Once again it’s just in our heads. Art’s the most magnanimous whore ever…it can be as pure or as ugly as we want it to be. So if you hate any aspect of any form of art, feel free to express it, but don’t go overboard and completely disassociate the medium or genre from all credibility (techno music and James Cameron’s films are exceptions because I know people who can scientifically prove that both literally cause the brain to temporarily malfunction). Of course, if you only express hatred towards art because you don’t understand why some people have to hate their jobs for a living while others get to sing, dance and act for theirs, well, tough shit, mate…life’s unfair, get yourself some tissues and call the suicide hotline.

(If self-indulgent, long-ass soliloquies don’t stop people from asking shit like why I listen to rap or why I watch horror films, I don’t know what will.)

On to some hip hop then…

Brother Ali’s Us has been hailed by many as the one of the best hip-hop albums of 2009. The collective consciousness hasn’t fucked up this time around, folks. It’s true. The raging intensity which gave his vocals a cartoonish tweak on the 2007 Undisputed Truth album is gone; instead we are treated to a more restrained MC who knows when to take it down a notch to let the music shine. The title song exemplifies this evolution, with producer Ant letting frenzied strings dive headfirst into those gorgeous handclaps as Brother Ali waxes lyrical “the worlds getting too small to stand in one place, it’s like we’re roommates just sharing a space, can’t separate and still carry the weight, gotta heal get away from the fear and the hate.” Stupid vegan hippies and tree-hugging journalists give peace a bad name; Brother Ali and his music sing glorious hymns in its praise. Give your money some real use and buy this man’s album.


Daniel Dumile dabbles in schizophrenia for a living. Only WWE wrestlers of the 80s have had more monikers than this guy. The rest of the world puts up with his identity crisis because the man is a fantastic musician. No matter who he is in the studio – MF Doom, Dr Octagon,  Zev Love X, Metal Fingers, King Geedorah or Viktor Vaughn – he is almost never off the mark when it comes to crafting absurdly brilliant rap music. I’ll come back to the rest later, for now I’ll start with his MF Doom persona.  From the twisted sounds of his debut Operation Doomsday to the 2005’s hilariously conceptual Mm..Food, he’s become crazier and consequently more innovative with each album. Despite the awesomeness that were the 2003 release – Vaudeville Villain – and the more recent Born Like This album, for me, Mm..Food showcases Dumile in his finest hour. He references absurdist food metaphors and samples music from old episodes of Fantastic Four, and Spiderman. He even ropes in obscure Zappa songs for a little help on Beef Rapp. Don’t fight it, folks…and don’t you dare try understanding it.


Fashawn’s one of the new kids on the block. A young MC who doesn’t believe in ripping words to shreds over grinding beats. He’s one of those who caress words gently and lets the music flirt with Fifties jazz and Seventies soul. With Exile handling the production duties on his debut Boy Meets World, word’s out that Fashawn is a name you’re going to be hearing a lot. Maybe not on Billboard charts or American Idol finales, but certainly from the lips of people who appreciate hip-hop beyond the gangsta manifesto. Ecology and the title track are my favourites of the lot, with one effortlessly riding on a haunting sample and the other sampling the Graduation song for nearly ten minutes, not once sounding redundant. How long must I wait for another Blu and Exile album (seriously, it’s been 3 years, guys)? More than patience, more than perseverance, give me rappers like Fashawn.


If I had been introduced to artists like Juggaknots during the late Nineties I wouldn’t have wasted precious pocket money on those stupid Bad Boy records. I can’t believe their Clear Blue Skies album was released in 1996 and kids who started rapping post millennium weren’t influenced by it. I guess Biggie and Tupac screwed hip hop by getting out early, leaving the next two generations of rappers falsely correlating braggadocio with dollars earned from album sales. Biggie and Pac weren’t hardcore because they were popular, they actually were. Juggaknots is more like De La Soul with all the comedy edited out. Smooth, groovy and mellow enough to give you time to appreciate it fully. The title track Clear Blue Skies is just plain fantastic. The words, the music, the production…everything. If you still think you are getting more value for your time/money with cretin like 50 Cents and Akon, go and get yourself a haircut, and hope to God he misses and takes out your ears.


Brother Ali – Intro (with Chuck D), Us

MF Doom – Beef Rapp, Potholderz

Fashawn – Ecology, Boys Meets World

Juggaknots – Clear Blue Skies

Blu and Exile – Soul Amazin’


Brother Ali – Us

MF Doom – Mm..Food

Fashawn – Boy Meets World

Juggaknots – Clear Blue Skies


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60,000 bottles of beer on the blog

Thanks for reading, minions

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This blog will keep switching between film reviews and music-related tidbits until something really big explodes and I get sufficiently distracted. Also, I don’t update as much nowadays only because I continue to torment myself by getting up every morning to pursue a life I’m not really fond of.

Thanks for reading, now quickly run to other side and get a haircut or something.

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Have faith, will post.

Until then.


Marta De La Aldea & Toledo Quartet – Moon Over Bourbon Street

Housemartins – Caravan Of Love

They Might Be Giants – Istanbul (Not Constantinople)

Eagles of Death Metal – Eagles Goth

Bob Dylan – Desolation Row

Gogol Bordello – Start Wearing Purple

Thermal And A Quarter – Origami

MS Viswanathan and Crew – Mazhaithuli

SP Balasubramaniam and Crew – Enn Mel Vizhlundhe

MSV and Crew – Siva Sambo

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I really hate Windows Vista. I really do. One of its minions – Microsoft Word 2007 – has decided to gloriously fuck itself up beyond redemption and the brain cells of the geekiest of my friends.

Until Point Dexter picks up my phone calls, all those sad little written posts on Hooverphonics, Banhart, Harmony Koraine, Transformers, Tupac and quite possibly the greatest Brit gangster film ever made will have to wait and muse on far more frivilous matters on my laptop.

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