Photos [courtesy of Philip Kaufmann]

Heather in the recording studio.


Indian wedding. Back-up singers. Heather in custom saree.


Indian Pop star Mika.


Mika's concert, John is visible beneath the neck of the bass guitar, sort of.



Daler Mehndi's family at his "farm house". Note "Dancing Daler" doll on mantle above fake fireplace.


John and Shamsher Mehndi practicing on the roof in Delhi.


John and Shamsher.


Shamsher's concert. John on drum kit and wedding chair. Fog machine. ?

Abecedarian of Noises

-Animals: all kinds. Cats fighting, dogs mating, cows bellowing.
-Birdsong from the mango tree.
-Cloven-hoofbeats--cows, goats, pigs exploring the garbage pile; herds of water buffalo headed to the river.
-Drums (marching band style) from the school across the street.
-Eagles trilling down from their nest in the mobile phone tower.
-Fire crackers. Sometimes deafening. Usually reserved for holidays.
-Generators rumbling when the power is out.
-Horns of buses and trucks in the distance.
-Insects humming in the evening hours.
-Jangling bells of bicycles.
-Kitchen clatterings: knife on stone, bowl in sink, etc.
-Leela sweeping, daily.
-Monkeys playing in the mango and on our balcony, reeking havoc on the vegetation.
-Neighbor coughing.
-Old drummer-beggar, playing at our gate for coins.
-Pidgeons cooing.
-Quarreling jackdaws along the electric wires.
-Rickshaws rattling down our flagstone street.
-Screech of the gate to our compound closing.
-Tabla.... John does practice four hours a day.
-Uulations in the wee hours of morning from the mosque.
-Venders, crying their wares: "falling god, chocolate!" or "aloo-ah-gobi-ah-tamatar-ah-methi-ah-palak-ah-matar...."
-Water-pump--it's high-pitched whine, filling the tank on the roof.
-eXcess water pouring off the roof, when the tank is overfull.
-Yawn-squeak of the petite cat who has adopted us. She feigns boredom; wants milk.
-Zealous brahmin monks, chanting in their monotone from the temple below.

Cycling to Sundarpur

I am trundling myself about town on a rented, ancient little bicycle with a single gear. I feel as though I've unlocked some key to this city that was hidden in plain sight--it used to be that I would feel on foot or in rickshaw that I was holding on for dear life. This feeling was constant until I discovered that the trundle of my creaking steed is the most natural motion of this city.

On my way home one day from Sundarpur, the sun was setting and I saw the most beautiful and crazy curve of a loadbearing brick column. Unmortared, lit from behind by a bare bulb.

"When in imitation Rome, imitate the imitation Romans" - Philip Kaufmann

- "There are only 7 of these cars in all of India and mine is custom-one-of-a-kind-individual! See, two-tone seats!" - Daler Mehndi while driving us around Delhi in his new VW Touareg.

- At my second Indian wedding performance in 4 days, I find myself standing next to the swimming pool with a jumbo prawn in one hand and a 12-year-old whiskey in the other thinking, "Alright, this isn't so bad."

- I leave in 2 hours for Rajasthan to do a couple of concerts with this guy.

- In the van on the way to the first wedding, the back-up singers (4 men in white turbans and tiger-striped shirts) ask Heather and Phil and I to sing a song but all we can come up with is part of "Like a Virgin." Then, when the van goes in reverse and the warning beep plays "Jingle Bells" we simultaneously break into song. Knitted eyebrows meet our hilarious laughter.

Tina, Baby

We wake under my makeshift mosquito net in Daler Mehndy's nephew's humble apartment and recording studio. John sings in a heartfelt falsetto, "Ya think you're good enough for me, boy? You're gonna have to wait and see, boy." I am laughter personified.

We allow ourselves ten minutes for serious composing. John's waking lines make the cut. So, here is what American Tina tells her Punjabi admirer:

Think you're good enough for me?
You're gonna have to wait and see.
You're tellin' me that I'm beautiful,
But what's that mean to me?
You're gonna have to make me want you,
If you wanna get close to me.
You're gonna have to make me need you,
If you know what I mean....

(I'm not sure that I know what she means.... and how do you like the rhymes: me, see, -ful, me, you, me, you, mean?)

So, after breakfast, Manprit arrives. We show him our composition, hum the melody (three notes, total--we add a fourth later on). I am wrinkling my nose. Manprit says "great, sounds good, let's do it." I must still be in denial that I said I would try to compose, sing and record a pop song. After all, my voice has just come back from laryngitis, I still have a sore throat, and green snot is clogging my sinuses all the way to my ears.

Nevertheless, we proceed. John is my coach. He has to keep reminding me that the melody only has four notes--why do I keep adding more? But how does a Spanish folk singer sing a digitized pop song? How not to quaver my voice? Manprit keeps telling me to stop tapping my foot. We pause the session for someone to turn off their car alarm in the parking lot below.

An hour goes by. I am sweating nervous sweat. Finally it is done--the songline, the harmony, both, even though my voice persists in cracking on the last note. "No problem," says Manprit. "I'll cut that part off."

He edits it. It manages to sound vaguely professional--enough that I raise my eyebrows. Manprit promises to send us a copy when the CD comes out.

But let this be my first and last foray into the world of pop music production.....

Bombs, Stars, Buffets

Sorry this has been sparse of late, but things are getting more and more strange.

I was to play drums for Shamsher Mehndi's band for a holiday concert (Dev Deepawali) on a huge floating stage in the Ganges river, but some law offices were bombed the same day (and Varanasi has a thick recent history of terrorist acts) so all public festivities were cancelled. But because of this we were able to have dinner at Daler Mehndi's house in Delhi.

Daler Mehndi is an Indian super star, the most successful and highest paid pop musician in Indian history. He also has the most, uh, outrageous music video I've ever seen. I promise you won't be sorry if you check it out: Tunak Tunak Tun.

Anyway, my Guruji introduced me to Shamsher Mehndi (Daler's older brother, and a pop star in his own right) who invited me to play drums at a high society wedding in Delhi since we weren't able to play together in Varanasi. Heather and Phil and I took the night train to Delhi where we were invited to dinner at Daler Mehndi's house. His house is astounding; the largest of any of the Bollywood stars', it has the requisite pool and gardens and gym and music studio and plenty of baffling Indian Kitsch (photos forthcoming). But it's also a self-sustaining compound with cows and water buffalos and chickens and 100% organic vegetable gardens. Armed guards? yes. Giant guard dogs? yes. Did I lounge around on his bed? yes. Daler was giving a concert in Mumbai so we just ate and sang and played music with his charming family. Hard to imagine an American family this wealthy being so functional!

Then last night I played drums for 700 people at an Indian wedding. So strange. So much food. Shamsher Mehndi wanted me to play rockmroll backbeats underneath his punjabi pop songs. There were 3 other drummers on stage so the pressure was pretty low. Oh and there was a fog machine. It was frustrating to have not touched a drum kit for 4 months and then have to play straight rock and roll for 2 hours. But of course the experience was great. Heather was stunning in a custom-made silk turquoise saree. Phil spent 2 sets of batteries on photos. No exaggeration, there was a food buffet 200 yards long.

We could write dozens of pages about all of this, and maybe we will... Check back soon for photos.