Some ol' fashioned Southern Comfort, y'all.

Southern Rock is quite the eclectic combination of music, isn't it? As per Wikipedia, it consists of the veritable ZZtop, Lynrd Synkrd and the Allman Brothers band. The wikipedia page also suggests that recent additions such as Kid Rock can be classified under Southern Rock. But let us take a moment to consider that Southern Rock, if analysed geographically, is the rock of the ol' fashioned south, mainly influenced by the country (South-East) and Western (South-West and California) styles of music. This old hillbilly style soon moved towards rock'n'roll, and then followed the trend followed by electric blues. So, to put it simply, Southern Rock, is rock'n'roll, country and western, mixed with blues and topped with some electric guitars.
But enough about that kind of Southern Rock, shall we? Let's get into the kind that's really interesting.

There are institutions, and then there are institutions. I like institutions, especially the kind that are old, and have something old school about them. You can see that straight through in my choice of football club, favourite cricket bowler and favourite football player. And the most respectable amongst many institutions dedicated to the listening of rock'n'roll music and drenching our ever-parched throats with nectar is Hard Rock Cafe. I like Hard Rock Cafe. No, actually, I love Hard Rock Cafe. I love the lighting, the decor, the all-American feeling of the place, the mustard and yes, the music. Every Hard Rock that I have been to has been good, if not brilliant. My most recent visit to an HRC was in Pune, and it brought back memories, not just because I met Siva and Anees, but I met with another old friend who shares his name with the respectable rock music that we talked about earlier.

It all started at a place as far away from warm Southern comfort as one could think of, in the USA at least, it all started at Niagara Falls, NY. The motley crew of NITK Racing were vacationing after FSAE Michigan and we reached the Hard Rock Cafe there, after a cold blustery day under the short and squat Niagara. The warmth in the cafe was a relief, and as we pursued the menu with vigor, I didn't know what to choose and I asked the waiter to recommend something delectable for me. And that was for the first time that I met my old friend. He had a hard and rough upbringing, but he had been coated by layers of education and sophistication, a touch of humor and some dry wit. You know his name, but his description reads, Jack Daniel’s, Southern Comfort, black raspberry liqueur and ABSOLUT Vodka, mixed with sweet & sour and topped with lemon-lime soda. My old friend was a keeper (literally ;) ) and I cherished every moment that I had with him though it was too fleeting, and much much too early that we retired for the night. I did not meet him for a year.

The next time that I met him was at a more exotic locale, if ever Eastern Europe can ever claim to be exotic. In the wide and crowded streets of the Pest half of Budapest, I was there with the next generation of FSAE. And we met again, my old friend and I. The best part of an hour and a half I spent with him, was something else altogether. I thought as I drank the last sip that this might be the end for a while, as I was soon going to be out of college and out of the FSAE team that travels every year. I sighed, and gulped him down, all the while thinking of Jim Morrisson crooning, "This is the end, my friend, the end!".

Fast forward six months and I found myself in an HRC in Hyderabad, chilling with an altogether new crowd. Tom Petty was singin' Free Fallin' in the background while I hunted the menu with a vigor for my old friend, but alas, I was struck by a thunder-thriker-bastard. He was not there, he had disappeared, he was gone forever. And I had to make new friends. Despite my bloated Facebook friends' list, I don't like meeting new people that much anymore, at least people who don't get it. And this new friend didn't get it. I made do with what I had, and left, thinking of that Doors' song, rueing that I didn't get to say a better goodbye...

So, fast forward another 6 months, and I find myself in another HRC, in my adopted (cringe) city of Pune. I walk in and am surprised to get a pleasant reception. And as I pursue my menu again..., and as I pursue the menu again, he's not there. My old friend seems to have left me for the gorgeous Hungarian women and the ridiculously cheap JD at Pest. But I take a deep breath, a leap of faith and I ask the enthusiastic bartender, "Do you have a Southern Rock?".... "Jack Daniels...". He smiles and says "ABSOLUT Vodka and ....". My heart beats faster, my world grows a little brighter and all seems better. I say, yes, yes, you fool, make me one, pronto. And as I wait feverishly for the next two minutes, he pops it in my hand. I say hello to my ol' friend. He smiles back, a gruff smile, reflecting thoughts and memories untold. Though I am dying to take that first sip, I offer it to another old friend that I met by chance that night. Siva takes his sip and the memories take hold of him. I sip that first sip of holy nectar and it feels blissful, it feels like nirvana, it feels like a thunder-thriker-bastard. I tell the bartender, it's perfect. My friends acknowledge gruffly in approval.

This is the end, my friend, the end....

The Emperor's New Clothes

It has been a while since I wrote anything on this piece of useless clutter on the internet, but here I am, typically, at 1 am in the morning trying to conjure up something worthwhile to read, like, retweet, pin, you get my drift. As many of you already know, I'm trying to educate myself on the dying art of rock 'n' roll, not by going out there and getting a guitar, but by taking this edgy course on coursera called the History of Rock- Part I.

It has been about four weeks since the course began and we have traversed through the roaring twenties, the mildly depressing thirties and the war-struck forties. We have spoken about the three broad genres of music; Pop, R & B and Country and Western, and about how Bing Crosby became America's favorite uncle. We also heard about Frank Sinatra's crooning excited the girls of the 40s, so much so, that they went from muttering a barely comprehensible "Oh Golly!" to shriek at his very presence. a trend that hasn't stopped since. But that flutter in their hearts would be barely a missed beat compared to what was to follow in the next decade.

The New Clothes first, shall we?

Elvis came. He saw. He didn't like it and did everything his own way, paving the way for the mainstreaming of rock 'n' roll (in a good way). I'm not going to give you a history of Elvis Presley ( Born in Tupelo, moved to Memphis, signed with Sun, and then signed by Col. Tom Parker for RCA) but to give you an idea of why he is hailed as one of the best in the world. 

Now, when we think of Elvis, what's the first image that pops up in our head?

This. 

Or this. 

The massive sideburns, the oh-so-garish-but-only-Elvis-can-pull-it-off costume on stage and the crooning of clean pop music by a nearly middle-aged man, who sometimes slurs his way through songs, and has to carry a .45 on stage to protect himself from any over-enthusiastic fans. This Elvis, though widely popular and a commercial dream, was not even a patch on the Elvis of the late 50s and the late 60s (The comeback special). Why do I feel that way? Multiple Reasons:

The King

1. That's all Right (Mama): Elvis announced himself to the world with this nifty little single covering Crudup ( as was the convention then, with the song being more important than the artist). You can hear him here in the Lousiana Hayride (with the screaming girls in the background and notice - near-nothing-sideburns), a popular country and western radio show.

Immediately noticable is the quality of his voice and also, it's depth. We hear him and say, this guy is not going to be some mainstream pop crooner, he's different. (Listen to Bing Crosby or Sinatra- they are generally more melodious and sing safe songs with sappy lyrics)

2. His live uncensored brilliance (till it was uncensored anyhow):

Elvis in the 1950s was Elvis uncut, unmoulded and un-mainstreamed and commercialized. He was playing because he loved to play and sing the music that he sung. Tom Parker was raking in the money without thinking beyond TV and Elvis was on the rise. His live performances on TV were considered evil, grotesque and even devil's music by some parents, but the kids loved it, and the kid-in-me does too. His performances were raw and full of energy and reflected a new rise in youth power and the teenage movement in America. 

Heartbreak Hotel on the Milton Berle Show with gyrations that were deemed inappropriate for the 50s. ;)

And Hound Dog on the same show.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJnVQDA9rHA

The hilarious bit is that he's shafted into the comedy section.

The most ridiculous performance of his career. ;)

3. The Comeback Special (1968): Elvis went off to fight in the war between 58-60 and then was forced to act in a bunch of sappy movies between 1960-67. Consider this the Yeh-Jawaani-yeh-diwaani moments of his career. Cringe. 

But then he came back in 68 to sing in a bunch of live performances to a small audience where he felt relaxed, and we finally experienced Elvis at his absolute, magical and enchanting best. 

In this whole section, we see Elvis play like a footballer in his peak years, playing for fun and the joy of playing. This is probably the last time that we see Elvis at his best. Soon after this, he was commercialized and started singing clean pop, broke his marriage and died due to overdosing on medication.

But let us take a moment to the rock 'n' roll phenomenon that was Elvis. I would see it this way. Today, we enjoy the brilliance of Pink Floyd, the eclectic magnificence of Led Zeppelin, the magic of the Beatles and are more than satisfied by The Rolling Stones, but all these bands would probably have never been as popular and some might never even have seen the light of day in popular American music, but for Elvis. Elvis came over in 1954, rocked the world, changed the perception of rock 'n' roll to something that was more a revolution than a fad, and took it all the way, not to the next level, but to an almost iconic status in American history. He became the face of America to the world as a pop star but his roots were deeper and ingrained in R & B and Country, the thankfully-not-so-forgotten brothers of mainstream pop. 

So, to Elvis Presley, the King, a moment or a few. 

And to my favorite performance.

For a day longer

16 years, 16 years that man was here. 16 years he plied his trade here. 16 years, he worked, and they passed by in an instant. I have been reading the tributes pouring in today, watching the videos, and I have this mere blog to offer in praise of this legend.

An often overused term, legend, much like superstar, awesome and world class. I try to save it but for the very best, though. I praised Edwin much the same way after the schooling that was Sunday, but only today did I feel that gut wrenching feeling of having something taken away from you. One doesn't lose feel that much emotion for a goalkeeper I guess, but when I read in the early hours of Tuesday that Paul Scholes had retired, something changed. Something deeper came out of it. I have watched for the past nine years, United play numerous matches, win a lot and lose some as well. All through, I have never had a worry about how United would do in coming years. Scholes and Giggs would always be around. So would Gary Neville. Nothing to worry. They would always be there to save the day. ' Can United score? They always score.' But today, I realized something, the Class of 92 is almost all gone. And in it, a part of the club's life and soul.

However, it brings to me a joy and a satisfaction, something that can't be matched by merely a trophy. It is the joy of having these distinguished gentlemen of professional football playing at Manchester United, and the joy of having watched them play, watched them win, watched the joy on Scholes' face when he scored a goal, watched that smile every single time.

I value work ethic more than a flash of brilliance. I value modesty and humility more than 'in-your-face' aggresore. I value 'a just-doing-my-job' rather than a ' Why-didn't-I-get-an-award'.

I value Paul Scholes more than anyone else for what he gave to United.

Paul Scholes. Humble Servant. Model Professional. Footballer's footballer. Wonderful human being.

I wrote this on Orkut when I was 16.

Paul Aaron Scholes -born November 16, 1974 -

plays for the red half of Manchester- 9th player to reach 500 appearances for United-produced the best chip pass in years against AC Milan in a Champions League semifinal match that makes me say "Hey, this is why i play football"- has inspired Nike to produce balls of better quality because he strikes it so hard-in other words -Paul Scholes - GOD!!

Maybe that says it all.

Iniesta: No better than Steven Gerrard and all that lot..

Andres Iniesta, midfielder at Barcelona F.C. Talented, skillful, lithe, dribbling king, maestro. These are the words that come to my mind when I think of him. Today at the World Cup Final, he wowed us all with his ability to hold the ball, create chances out of nothing and score the goal that took Spain to footballing nirvana. But will anyone remember the reason the Netherlands were denied a chance to compete due to a terrible bit of refereeing and opportunistic diving which got Heitinga sent off and gave Spain all that extra room to score that admittedly good goal. Today's match was supposed to be all about Robben's cheap tricks and Van Bommel's ugliness, but what I saw on display was some terrible play from the Spanish midfield who fell as though they had gone through training watching videos of Didier Drogba, Cristiano Ronaldo, Gilardhino and that lot. Falling to the ground at a feather touch and aided by a whistle tooting card-happy referee, it killed a potentially good clash between the two sides. Iniesta's dive which led to Heitinga's Red Card and an incident just after which led to Van Der Wiel's later should have been punished. Xavi and Busquets were no better. All I have to say right now is Iniesta, you may be celebrating that trophy right now and have your place among the Gods, but you have lost the respect of many football fans including me for what you did during the game. If it is Robben or Ronaldo doing it, it is considered even normal because good footballers they might be, good footballing individuals who command respect they never will be. I always respected Andres Iniesta. I once thought you were the best player in the world and beyond that. Today, you may still be the best player in the world, but you have proved today that you are merely a mortal, a mortal who can never command the same level of respect ever again. Adios to the footballer who takes a kick and still runs, you bunch of pansies.

Oh Crickey, seems like I can do this only at unearthly times. Perhaps it's got something to do with the feeling of sleep dragging you down but suddenly, you wake up and type all the nonsense you can. I am not too sure of how to start off this one. Basically want to talk about how people perceive someone who's a little different from the rest of the crowd. A ' Zara Hatke' sort of person, a visionary, or maybe someone who feels strongly and passionately about a certain thing and will not tolerate anything said or done against it.
People generally hang out with people who do similar sorts of things, like listen to the same kind of music, or play the same sport, or read similar books and so on. Now if a certain person doesnt watch the same tv series as some of the people around him do, he is ridiculed for it. He loses respect because he doesnt do the same things as the people around him do. Is it absolutely necessary to be a part of a herd? Sure, lets all be cynical, loud mouthed, blithering bumbling idiots claiming to be Engineers and Doctors, the future generation even, and not even have the sense to stand in a queue. Lets all blame the system, the politicians, the corruption while not even lifting a finger to do something, anything about it. Let us watch a planet go to waste as we burn electricity, water and fuel without a care in the world. Let us be who we are, because I don't give a damn as it doesn't affect me.

Maybe not today, my Mr. I love the Herd, but someday...

Well, finally booked tickets to the Mood I concert. Bit of a relief actually, considering IIT-B's best effort to mind-boggle anyone who visits their website with loads of words and virtually zero links. Much like their Chemistry textbooks, loads of words which make no sense. Speaking of complexities, it was frustrating to see United playing the way they did on saturday night. They didn't look like a team with any purpose or intensity. They just looked plain shabby, which quite frankly, they have looked throughout the season. Here's where we miss a certain Portuguese Magician. One minute of inspiration from him could have changed the match and instead, we had Berb bumbling a volley, Rooney tumbling and Anderson, well looking as though he was playing football for the first time. Agreed that you have a bad game every now and then, but we have looked below par most of the time this season and we looked pretty bad last season scrapping 1-0 wins most of the time. It's no fun watching United play terrible, patchy scrappy football for long periods of the game and sneaking in a couple. Where is the United of '99, the United of '02 or the United of '06 for that matter?? These teams not only were solid in defense but also played some classy fluid football which United simply cannot play over long periods of time. I know the team is undergoing a metamorphosis of sorts and it consists of a few players past their prime but the fact that they are still the best around and the team will miss them is a concern. Who will step into the quite massive boots of Giggs, Scholes, Van der Sar and Neville? Agreed that we are still second place in the league, in the Champions League Knockout stages, the FA cup and the Carling Cup but it's been sneak a goal in there, tap one there and lets wait for an own goal. No spark, no imagination. I can only hope that we hit a purple patch soon as Chelsea look quite strong this season and will give us a good title challenge. " It's Carrick, Carrick to Fletcher, Fletcher to Valencia, Valencia crosses, Berbatov heads to Rooney, and it's Rooneyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!". Till then, Joga Bonito.

Its 1:10 am. God knows why I'm up but I am. Staring at my screen, I think of words to put in. It's my first blog. Should I be positive? Should I try to show what is going through my head? Should I write something cryptic? Questions shoot through my head and I feel as though I'm living my life to appease others, to appease a society which does not understand me and beside all of that, has forced me to become another of it's many nobodies. What has been eating my insides up has been a question. A question which came up recently in light of an interaction with a person who has been termed as 'Good Friends with everyone'. I felt anger and jealousy at the interaction of 'Good friends with everyone' with a certain person, lets say X. Now comes the question, Is a person defined by what one does on the outside or what one is on the inside? Is one defined by one's actions, one's thoughtfulness, one's image of himself to the outside world or is one defined by the emotions one feels inside?? One of my friends told me that the answer to this question lies in whatever makes me happy and all that mattered was that. But in making myself happy, I would have to stop bottling up the emotions I felt inside me and let them flow. This would have it's implications. Society would be outraged and I would be isolated. A life of all give and no take is not what I desire, but to be truly happy I need my emotions to flow. Which brings us to the sensible advice from the same source. Change yourself, but changing what you feel on the inside is extremely hard, whatever you might be hold. What probably will change will your reaction in a similar situation, the reaction which you show the world, not the reaction which you feel inside you. So in the end, is change something you do so that the society you do would not be aghast at your current behavior?? Why do people change?? So that society accepts them? People forget who they are and become what society turns them into?? Is it the death of an individual, is it the death of principles, is it the death of emotions?? Nothing is absolute, yet all need not be relative either.