I had a conversation with someone recently, which reminded me of this HILARIOUS thing. When I was in class 8, seven of us wanted to form a band. It really didn't matter if we could sing. Well, most of us could. What I mean is, it really didn't matter if I could sing. And as for instruments, why did good vocalists NEED all that kind of fancy back-up? Look at Enrique. Look at the Backstreet Boys. Look at Blue. Who noticed the instrumentals in THEIR songs?
Monday, February 9, 2009
If you don't hate us already, then prepare for worse. We had to find ourselves a name. The suggestions themselves were highly suggestive.
Untitled: We thought this was really cool. We imagined confusing the audience about whether we were NAMED untitled, or were just plain untitled.
The age old concept of initials. In this case, the only feasible combination available was BAASSSP. Yeah, we rejected it. But that doesn't really redeem us.
We finally decided upon........
*drumroll, flourish and every conceivable dramatic device for presenting entrances*
And no, we weren't going to be any old cover band. We were going to be a hundred percent original. This is the song we came up with-
'In the shadows of the night,
When you can't see far...
Out there, there's a light-
And it's upto you to find it.'
Now here, I wanted to introduce 'In the shadows of the night' as a mysterious, haunting refrain. But I was overruled. They thought I was taking the title too seriously. Hmphh. I still maintain that it wasn't a bad idea, WITHIN the parameters of our deadly agenda.
At this point, my friends started a new stanza.
'Let the thought of your love
Make you strong.'
I am glad to say that I fought like an angry cat against this. Despite being a self-conscious, retarded adolescent, I had some sense in me. And I am also glad to say that I have moved on since then.
But you know, some things in people never change. I have always been rather unlucky regarding the people I like. They are usually above 40, or dead, or chauvinistic pricks. And yes, a lot of them indulge in serious substance abuse.
A few days back, I was watching American Idol, and I was struck by a certain 26-yr old. He is moderately cute, but REALLY charming, and it was mainly his voice, that planted the seeds of a mini-crush in me.
Guess what? He's gay. Apparently. Knowing my luck, it's a certainty. I think this foreshadows what my Valentine's Day is going to be like. Would you believe that I have NEVER had an interesting Valentine's Day? Now that I've developed into a most dreadful snob, it doesn't matter. I can discard the whole business as commercial and pretentious. But what I wouldn't mind, is a greeting from a man who
a)looks like Farhan Akhtar
b)IS like Obama
c)writes like Ted Hughes/Roald Dahl/O.Henry/Maugham/Ogden Nash/Oscar Wilde
d)speaks like Jim Morrison/Russell Crowe/Simon Cowell
(I DO leave a lot of options open. This proves it.)
Posted by Anushka at 8:31 PM