No Sex Some Drugs and a lil-bit-o-Rock,n Roll: extract:1990 to 1996: THOSE WERE THE BEST YEARS OF MY LIFE:

1990 to 1996: THOSE WERE THE BEST YEARS OF MY LIFE:

Though a drummer, Manuel had the best musical ear I have ever known.This was how Manuel used to tune the guitar.

“Daai, koodu da guitar, (Give me the Guitar),” he would tell me on stage, “Maair madri irrukai. Tuning”(Your Guitar is out of tune, sounds like pubic hair).

Then he would take the guitar and tune the six strings softly humming the notes – “Nee (Low E – 6^thstring). Amm (A 5^thstring@440hertz - exact) Aaa (D- 4^thstring) Koo (G – 3^rdstring) Dhi (B 2^ndstring) eee (High E- 1^ststring)”.(Translates into one of the most vulgar profanities possible in Tamil slang). This would, of course, come strongly over the PAstartling the audience and the half undressed dancer on stage. Without missing a beat through all this he would hit a shattering loud “rim shot” on the snare and admonish her “Nee yenna dee paarkarai? Soothe attandi podi” (What are you looking at? Shake your Butt).

Manuel’s foul mouthed vocabulary was not exceptional – it was rather inherited from the locality he grew up in – Gun Troop in Ulsoor, Bangalore. Basically a slum, the Locality had a long history, dating back to the Third Mysore War of 1791. Some structures even dated back to that period. Most of the populace were Tamils. There is a football field adjoining the colony and Gun Troop has produced some of the best football players in Bangalore. In fact, Gun Troop is the only place in India where you can see a Statue of that great Brazilian, Pele.

Besides Football, Gun Troop produced whole generations of Musicians. Many were from Families of Patriarchs who played Music with Military Bands. The Joseph clan. Manuel. Steven and Babu are his sons, had over a dozen members in the Music Business – Playing, working with Sound equipment and even selling Musical Equipment.  Patrick, one of the clan who runs Jazz Musicals has been an important part of mine and other musician’s lives.

In fact, I was becoming more dependent on Music shops. I had bought my first guitar – way back in 1968 from Premsons – run by an old Punjabi Sikh gentleman. But his specialty was Military Band equipment and so I bought my next few guitars from Cyril Lewis of N. Lewis & Son, who hand made his guitars. All the Chod Gang members –Sriram, Nanda, Parvez learned and used Lewis Guitars – which were purchased for as little as Rs.50! Over the years, Cyril has been a close friend and many were the nice times we had together. In the recent past, I have been helped a lot by Sidharth Patwa of Sound Glitz.

Now that I was playing every night – some days in two different hotels, I needed at least three Guitars – one to leave in the Hotel, One for Practice and playing Key shows kept at home and an Acoustic I could carry round to the other Musician’s place to work out new songs. The one in the Hotel was usually the cheapest and least missed if it got confiscated in a Police Raid.

When I came to play in the Cabaret Hotels, the business was already on its own Death Bed. The government had initiated a policy of abolishing the trade into History, to a large extent, the trade had signed its own death warrant. There was a time, they say, before and even just after Independence, the entertainment and the music was sophisticated. Top crooners from all over India and Abroad performed each night. With authentic Belly Dancers, visiting European Dance troupes, The Cabaret in Bangalore could impress even those who had experienced the Moulin Rouge or the Follies Berger in Paris.

But then a period of stagnation and then decline set in. The foreign and imported dancers were replaced, first by local Anglo Indians and, as revenue and remunerations dropped, later they came mainly from a few villages in the backward West Godavari region of Andhra Pradesh. There was a decline in the Customer Profile too, which got seedier as time passed by. Once, Napoli, Talk of Town, Flora and Metro were visited by mostly travelers – many foreigners too. Mostly single men, they came to unwind after their working day with wine, women and song. Over 75% of the customers were floating population. The local Bangalorean was quite conservative and avoided the Cabaret Hotels. Those that did come, came as incognito as possible. But as time passed by further, the audience was increasingly from social troublemakers and from the underworld. There would be punters every “Race Day” at the Bangalore Turf Club. Those who had won money came to blow it up, while those had lost came to drown their sorrows.

This was the time I used to say “Thank heavens for Bribery & Corruption”. By far the most lucrative customers were corrupt officials on the “take” in their respective fiefdoms. Apparently, it was less risky to blow up their ill-gotten wealth than stash it away into properties. Even in those days, the Vigilance Department was reasonably active. All the Hotels had the “right of admission” which was displayed prominently. But as the Hotel owners became increasingly dependent on both the Underworld Dons and the Police Officials to keep their establishments going, they had no choice than to allow these elements to dominate them.

When I came to the Cabaret in 1990, there were as many as 13 Cabaret Joints functioning, but none of them had actually been given permission to run. They had all got “stay orders” to continue functioning by citing an obscure rule that stated that if the Authorities do not grant a License or reject it in 15 days, the permission is deemed granted. Now, 15 days is ridiculously less to expect Government Bureaucracy to move. In any case the simplest thing was to bribe one of the babus / clerks / officials to sit on the file long enough.

There had also been violence. Flora – one of the Cabaret Hotels got burned down in inter-cine gang wars. Metro Bar, just next to Sona Greens, where I started, had been shut down by the owner who found that just selling liquor was more peaceful. I had played for exactly a year in Talk of the Town, when it closed. The owner a conservative Brahmin Lady, who had inherited the business from two generations back, just decided not to even apply for License. Abruptly I had to look for another hotel – Revolving, where a murder had happened a few years before.

From 1990 in Sona Greens till early 1995, when Revolving and the other hotels finally closed down, I had by far the best time of my life as a Guitarist. I played almost every day and learnt from some of the very good musicians. I also had many joyous and hilarious experiences. But it was the very important lessons on the Show Biz industry in particular and life in general I learnt:

1.      Start the Show in Time and start well. The musician owed it not to his employer, not his band nor even what he earned, but he owed this to the poor sap who has paid to come and hear him – the audience.

2.      You performed – not for yourself, so perform what the audience / listener wants, and do it as best as you can.

3.      If listeners wanted I accepted all types of Music – Listening to originals, learning and working out the music in a couple of days. Those days, Telugu hits from Chiranjeevi movies were all the rage. We acquired Tapes / Sound Tracks – often before the Movies release and kept up with the Pop scene.

4.      I learnt that at age 42, I was going to remain a fairly mediocre Guitarist. I had too many drawbacks. I could not “Pluck” with my fingers, always have needed a Plectrum. I had not used my little finger for “Lead”. I had almost “No Upstroke” and was limited in “Speed”.  I realized that only by building up a large repertoire I would be able to survive as a working musician.

5.      I also learnt to truly respect the dedication and art of all the Musicians in the Cabaret Field. There was a lot they taught me, though I rather regret I did not fully utilize this opportunity – spending more time drinking the booze that was “flowing like a river.”

Raja Fernandez (or “shorty” to differentiate from other assorted Raja’s) had a real dedication to his profession. At TOT, he was both Band Leader and Drummer / Singer. At his house, I found that, instead of Gods and Christian symbols – there were just two portraits – of SP Balasubramaniam, perhaps the most famous Tamil singer and Elaiyaraja – the now world famous music director.

“You know, Chod” Raja explained to me. “These are our true Gods. It’s their music we perform every evening and earn our livelihood”.

It was Raja who inspired me to have my own attitudes – to women. Even though surrounded by all these “women of the night” and so much naked skin around, almost all Cabaret Musicians were a surprisingly very moral lot and there was no promiscuity at all. Almost everyone had already been in this field several years and all had quite stable family lives. Even those few who had any relationship, usually married the women and led a good Family life.

As Raja used to tell me: “If you work in a sweet shop, you don’t go around eating up the sweets!” The women singers and dancers became our important work colleagues – our mutual earnings depended on both musician and singer/dancer having confidence in each other. Sometimes I even visited their homes and saw that invariably it was circumstances that had made them take up the trade.

I resolved never to call a woman “Theivadiyaa” (Prostitute / Whore) or any man “Thalpudiki” (Pimp). The Prostitutes had become my working partners and their Pimps my good friends!

Next Chapter:

Ghost, Funny Stories and Plain Tales from the Cabaret.