When All India Radio had launched its drive for the ‘revival of our traditional music,’ there was no thought that this might conceivably limit the network’s role as a ‘link between the Government and the people.’ Yet indications were that this happened.
Naushad Ali, a leading music director for films, responsible for a number of the most successful film songs, offered an explanation.

'Classical sangeet has never been the art of the masses. It was first born in the sacred temples and later flourished in the glamorous courts of the Rajas, Maharajas and the Nawabs . . The common people who had no access to the great durbars were never offered the opportunity of listening to classical music. They could not, therefore, acquire an appreciative ear for it.'

The attempt to make this highly specialized music a past of the everyday environment of millions was, to Naushad Ali, an artificial imposition. The music had been in the first instance the preoccupation of small elite groups, who took special pride in its mysteries. To many millions of Indians it was almost as remote as the music of British string ensembles. In the view of Naushad Ali, film music—a spontaneous and exuberant growth, emerging from an older folk music and adapting itself to a new era and its influences— was the real folk music of modern India.

Indian Film, Erik Barnouw and S. Krishnaswamy, 204-5. (via lovingoldbollywood)


China reconfigured, Ah Xian

Since a three-dimensional object casts a two-dimensional shadow, we should be able to imagine the unknown four-dimensional object whose shadow we are.
Marcel Duchamp (via hnnhmcgrth)

(Source: fables-of-the-reconstruction)


by Eleanor Davis

Music has always been a matter of Energy to me, a question of Fuel. Sentimental people call it Inspiration, but what they really mean is Fuel. I have always needed Fuel. I am a serious consumer. On some nights I still believe that a car with the gas needle on empty can run about fifty more miles if you have the right music very loud on the radio.
Hunter S. Thompson (via observando)
A mermaid found a swimming lad,
Picked him for her own,
Pressed her body to his body,
Laughed; and plunging down
Forgot in cruel happiness
That even lovers drown.

William Butler Yeates, “The Mermaid” (via feellng)