Big Yellow Taxi meets Dhoom Machale

Today’s hot topic deals with another common species, we all know about, have met a couple of times, but cannot place him any category. Yes, ladies and not so gentlemen, put your hands up for the “Music Snob”.

Long long ago, in a land infested with musicians, wannabe musicians and music experts, not necessarily in that order, I have had the privilege to meet many Music Snobs. They are proud, effervescent and a little clogged up in the brain. And of course, with the weed that forms a major part of the life in there, the clogging demanded that music meant English music only.

But that apart, music that is to be loved by all, has been subjected to some judgement and scrutiny these days by this category of snobs. So they judge you? On the basis of the music that you listen. If you’re into Iron Maiden. Megadeth – you’re so cool. With all that kajal, that dirty T-shirt which has not been washed since 1914 and an attitude that can give Ozzy a run for the money. And if you’re pink – take your pick of Britney, Christina, Pussy cat dolls…..! If it’s hip-hop you’re into dancing, but you must have the ability to shake your ass well, otherwise you’re just another dumb ho. Or feel free to strip to then, to be accepted into the royal hip-hop sisterhood. Alternative? Others? Mind you, all of you are judged. No one dare escape the eyes of the music snob.

Let it be, I say. But what bothers me, is the attitude of certain rockers. They believe they are the be all and the end all of music. They claim people judge them, but actually it’s them judging the world. On the very basis of music. And what do they have in store? Nothing. No back-ups. After all that condescending attitude towards other music lovers, they have nothing to show the world. Not a gig, not an album, not even a performance. And they judge. Well, that’s how they live off music I am guessing. And now a word to all those rockers who play their own music in their little closeted rooms: Nothing can be more selfish than judging others people's choices with you having nothing but your own little room to show for it. And the least the other guy did, was to meet the right people and get his music out, however bad that might be. And yeah, we're leaving music critics out of this.

Yesterday, I had a chance to meet someone special. And that inspired today’s topic. It was a certain mister Gregg Bissonette and my, how he took me from a mere spectator to an interested one, it was simply amazing. The drum clinic was the first that I had ever been to, and when my fiancé dragged me there, I was totally zapped. I am into music, not obessessed, but am more into pop culture. Not the Britney and Paris variety. I have my share of rock in my computers, my share of new bands like Death Cab for cutie, my love for any new sound, which explains the Idan Rachaiel concert I loved, Coldplay and U2 – the eternal favourites and a few popular songs here and there. I don’t necessarily belong to any concentrated music zone or category.

And I know zilch about drumming. I mean the drumming I know is the one you do, when you are waiting outside the women’s loo in my office. Just to pass time with my restless fingers, I drum on the walls. Jokes aside, the Drum Clinic was really informative. Greg was funny, raved about Mapex drums and their superior quality, and even played numbers from The Police. But when he played Dhoom Machale, I was astounded. An all round Drummer with a resume full of Joe Satriani, Santana, Don Henley and Steve Vai actually listened to something from Bollywood. That altered the way I looked at mainstream musicians. Music is all about experimenting. And as he played, I could see a group of well-informed wannabees sitting and joking around crinkling their noses in disgust at the number being played. By well-informed, I mean those who know their western music but are way too proud to acknowledge anything remotely Indian. Music is only rock, weed and a bad ass attitude. Not experimenting. Well, whatever….so that’s where the post ends. I would have loved to smack their faces with a chair, but lets say, I walked away from my own judgement.

I have only one thing to say, may the music world flourish. May more musicians live to spread good music and not judge! And those who think Indian music makes you bawl out, I’m sorry but you’re skin’s as brown as mine and you damn well learn to love what the country has got in store for you. Or go overseas and never complain about not having your mom’s dal rice or butter chicken. Shoo…go away! That said, we’ll leave Himesh Reshammiya to his own fate too. Amen.

P.S I got a signed autograph from Greg who actually fumbled to write my name for a bit, but well, I enjoyed myself thoroughly.

-Blue Roses