L 'other day I get a phone call: " Two folders on travel and music. Now. And they are written in an understandable way, " an intimate voice with a strange accent, posing as an emissary of this here newspaper. Closed the call, I immediately sought solace in solitary shameful vice: reading. In this case, "The right to laziness" by Paul Lafargue, a move that he wrote about a century ago. Some days I just start with the wrong foot.
And given that misfortunes never come alone, in the afternoon to visit a neighbor who has since made two weeks in Sharm - as he puts it - which then would be a popular tourist destination in Egypt, wants to do know the entire building. The type, one that when they leave shall maintain coffee maker, coffee and camp stove, greets newly arrived, placed two balls, loosen as souvenirs bought a cd there and is about to pull out cell-phone to show pictures of the ritual, when a call comes. Ringer disastrous, needless to say. " What?" Suspicious do I just see the cover of the cd. " do not know, I have not even heard. Imagine, then with this cover. There is a trick that seems to bust through my aunt. By the way, I met in Sharm American boys that I have shot in the complete discography mp3 Metallica. Interests you? " tells me the building, answering the phone at the same time. I take the ferry to the distraction to his doorway and out, to do with it without realizing it, make it disappear into the elevator. Stuff that even Harry Potter, kids.
apparition remained the record, I looked dumb. I say silent because while the writing was in Arabic, then because there were only two tracks, each lasting from thirty to fifty minutes. Too much effort: I took the cd and threw it near the cat litter.
few days after passing a friend from home, when a traveler wants to taste everything: if it is kibble alligator in the swamps of Florida or camel chops if he goes to Palermo in Tunisia. Just entered, greeting goes to the cat that is in the area and bisognini, with hawk eyes, sees the so-called Egyptian abandoned. "But this is Umm Kalthoum, the Diva! exclaims. What makes us close to the cat litter? " added with a light in his eyes that does not bode well. There are certain times, as everyone knows, but we would sink into the earth, coward, refuses to swallow. In a nanosecond the CD was recovered, cleaned and in silence, put on your stereo. The girl was now sitting, but he kept staring at me and meanwhile beat his foot nervously.
As it was, as it was, the two tracks ended. I did not understand anything. Nothing to do with any of the first thirty discs that can pass through the head. Nothing can be coordinated on a journey that did not provide nessun villaggio turistico. L'unica cosa che riconoscevo erano le urla e gli applausi del pubblico, uguali a quelli che possiamo ascoltare durante un concerto rock. Tumulti incomprensibili, alle orecchie dell'ascoltatore occidentale medio. Figuriamoci poi la musica: nessun accordo, melodie continue con note che non erano mai perfette e parole cantate in una lingua incomprensibile.
“Cos'è?” chiedo per la seconda volta. Lei, dopo avermi visto annaspare per quasi ottanta minuti, ora si è ammorbidita: “ E' Umm Kalthoum, una piccola contadina nata in un villaggio sul Delta del Nilo agli inizi del secolo scorso. Una che, dagli anni venti fino a tuttora, Thirty years after his death, continues to be the voice of fifty million Arabs from the Gulf Ocean. The Star of the East, called - continued -. A cross between Maria Callas, The Beatles, Eminem, Mozart, Rolling Stones ". " And Metallica?" ask. "You often too your neighbor, that does not travel without coffee." "Look at me got himself . " certainly will not even listen . The cat nodded, rubbing on her leg.
" What is a tourist! - has taken her - One who seeks spaghetti in Peru and then complain if they are overcooked. To listen to this music, all music, you have to be travelers. And raise your head from your fence. Only the best news is that now a group that sounds like another thirty years ago and dresses like a twenty years before. " "A morgue, virtually" , I add. The final bars are always good to me.
"And then - he concluded - try asking for a Moroccan, Tunisian, Egyptian, Palestinian, if he knows Umm Kalthoum. You will see it immediately smile, as if for a moment he returned home. When submitting its radio concerts, first Thursday of every month, the entire Arab world stopped to listen, and everyone dreams with his music. There is a book which tells of a poet in love with her. It's called 'I loved you for your voice'. You know him? "
No, did not know him. But I immediately thought of a story, about this CD: a man arrives on a beach. It 's definitely a shipwrecked, naked and exhausted. What to do? We call the police, or the Red Cross, or the ER. A girl of ten thousand years ago called the maids instead: "You have to help him, because they all come from Zeus, foreigners and beggars." And then they take it into parents' home, feeds him, washes him, and it smells when it is covered with white cloths and clean they do sit together and all ask him to tell a story. Except that she was called Nausicaa, Odysseus and his time there was the Bossi-Fini and who are thrown back into the sea of \u200b\u200bforeigners. " What has the Bossi-Fini?" she said absently, looking at the navel.
"The other, when you do not know, it makes you scared. As this disc "I had to respond. Just give me a tone that I shot there the first thing that came into his head: "Music is a travel, and travel must be curious, open to differences, and be able to bring home what you find, to understand, compare, improve ". "Bravo -fa- she might write an article. But do it in an understandable way. "
0 comments:
Post a Comment