Thursday, March 31, 2011


It’s not so much a memory of the song as it’s the place it transports you to when you hear it again years later, in another country. Over your second single malt with a friend who doesn’t know the language, you are discussing music and composition, and the use of just the right instruments as the tropical sun takes its glory elsewhere, leaving the whole city a bit empty. This song comes on your music system from your playlist, and you feel it takes you to a village you’ve never been before but can see vividly, with its green squares of paddy fields and pumpset water system, the kids playing outside their huts, you can smell the acrid smell of wooden stoves being lit for the evening meal. Your single malt buddy says he loves the song. You nod and go for a refill.

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