Every trip I take is usually accompanied by an accidental soundtrack.  When I went to Denmark In May 2011, somehow old school WuTang jams ended up on my iphone.  Methodman recited verses as I walked through art museums, and all Wu anthems had a calming affect occupying the anxious part of the brain.  The sound track to the whole Sri Lankan experience was the constant drumming where ever I went.  At my recent performance at the Lankadara girl orphanage I passed a drum around, and to no surprise it ended up in competent hands.  Tradition flourishes here, and I came across two distinct forms of musical folklore, one being Sinhalese and oriental sounding with compound rhythms and a variety of different drums and flutes; the other is tamil which is a bit more upbeat and mostly 6/8.  The popular form of music here is called Baila and is so much fun to play around with; expect me lifting some rhythms for the next album.
Upon arrival from the Galle Lit fest I hooked up with Sachinta and his Beatdrummers(http://www.beatdrummers.com) crew, and we performed all over Colombo doing a  pseudo Celtic/Boney M medley.  Sachinta who I believe is 24 years old, a powerful kid built within a small frame.  His fingers are hard like stone and slightly deformed from ceaseless practice and performing.  The only drummer amidst a family of dancers, he is already a master, even though too modest to admit it himself.  He assumed responsibility for his household upon his father’s sudden death a year ago.  His dad was an acclaimed master of traditional dance whose proud metallic bust stands at the entrance of the house which also services as repetition hall.  Sachinta’s brother is also an acclaimed dancer who I could tell is still coping hard with the loss of their father.
When first I came to his house I realized this is not just a simple dwelling but an artistic compound, where Sachinta calls the shots, whipping his obedient students into drumming machines.  They were practicing a number they call ‘Bucket Bucket;’ it’s basically an adaptation of american street bucket drumming with a dynamic range of patterns.  His loyal servant was knocking fruit off a tree while standing on a cement fence.  Sachinta was speaking  drum to his compandres ‘prum, taka taka taka tum, taka tum, taka tum.’  After a little jam we set upon creating a show.  I was asked of what popular melodies I know, and I said I would rather do originals, so we did both.  The rehearsal ran for at least 4 hours during which I sweated through a shirt, and was ready to boogie down home to catch dinner.  This was my second week here, and already bookings were coming in like crazy.  I met the organizer for the Colombo International Music festival, so that is in the cards for late august.
The big gig that was booked in advance and was called Park Street Jam; and it took place on a Sunday the 29th of January at a gentrified warehouse district.  I was to perform solo, and then with the beat drummers; as well there was Ken Stringfellow(www.kenstringfellow.com/) of the REM and the Posies fame.  The flow of the night was a constant assent in intensity, and Ken started it off  by reducing the gap between the performer and the audience. He stepped forward off the stage and came face to face with the people leaving the mic behind and going completely acoustic.  This moistened the whole vive, and the flow was on the right track. Sometimes his voice followed note per note a melody which would lightly pop out of dense chord harmony; scarcely used, this effect felt so pleasant each time.  He appeared to me as Arlecchino, that innocently mischievous archetype that humbled audiences for many centuries.  After Ken, came my turn, I walked on stage with no band, or backing tracks.  Picked my violin and shut off as much untimely thoughts as I could, to go straight into focus.   I began to play like I was trying to impress my self, and it was working.  The eyes were collecting, and I saw my friend Jiles crawling on some piece of furniture to see what was going from behind the audience.  This was a moment that drained all the dopamine my brain produces for a week, the absolute moment of rare bliss.  I wanted to have a backing track start right after the improv, but when the track came in sounding stripped through my monitor wedges, I decided to scrap that idea and said that I will have real drummers coming in a bit.  Sachinta and his crew were waiting stage right to commence upon signal, and after stepping back into the zone for a bit more improv, I gave them the signal to take the stage.  This is when the whole place went bananas.  The way our minds linked together only occurred once again later in the trip, but my precise dancing at the same time as I was playing took me back to the busking days.  My legs were doing stuff I can’t do on my own, and I’m so glad one of Sachinta’s friend’s got it all on tape(the videos are in the next Blog entry).
After the show I knew that what we did was unusual, and not only it transformed the audience, but also transported them to some magical place.
For the next two days after the show my mood dropped heavily, this is what usually happens after such experience.  Even for a moment of happiness you need to pay a certain price, but with my friend Viren telling me not to get all double negative with feeling bad about being down; I bounced back quickly, and waited for the next adventure.
I wrote briefly in a previous entry about Kichaa and the Galle face Hotel, he is the one responsible for introducing me to this wonderful complex.  The day after the big show I get a call from someone who I cannot recall.  Its a late morning call, and the person wants to meet asap outside the Galle Face Hotel.  I go through the rolodex in my mind, and think of who I could have possibly met yesterday, but was too lucid to remember.
After breakfast and a bit of dezombifying I was on my way across the street to meet this mystery person.  Right behind a row of three wheelers, and close to the water this dude stood up and waved, and I realized that it is was a DJ from Nepal that I met last night who is supposed to play with me at Art Biennale in two weeks time. After trying to figure out what would be open right now, he said that Galle Face Hotel is best place for the view and cheap beer.  At this point I abandoned my original plan of  trimming the slight beer gut that a accumulated the year before.  I didn’t know at the time that this special place will become my resort during this anti Vacation.  I went there the previous Friday for quick beer and thought that it might be a bit too posh to kick back, but it came out to be the complete opposite.  Here no one would bother if you decided to take off your shirt, catch some sun when you sit down, and order a tall bottle of Lion beer.  I didn’t mind the unresponsive waiters and the occasional seagull yanking a chicken bones off my plate, as long as I got the best seat with an umbrella.  Most of the people that I had to meet would be directed here with a text message instructing them to come to the pool bar and look for me right in front facing the ocean, the perfect office.
In the following week there were two Television appearance both with Sachinta and the Beatdrummers, the first was MTV and the following was The Sri Lanka People awards.   Having experienced a few events already I picked up on some local customs, like having the Guests of Honour(ministers and such) light candles that float in a massive dish with certain flowers; but at the awards ceremony I saw the first example of Sri Lankan classical dance.  The term classical isn’t just attached to Ballet here, but mostly to a tradition of dance that goes back thousands of years.  There was a slight mix up in the program, and I was told to stay longer which put me in an uneasy situation as I had to bounce early to make another scheduled gig at the Canadian club.   This was a monthly party organized by Pierre and his wife who came here to work for the Canadian Commission from Gatineau, and it had to end by 10.  Everything worked it self out as speeches were cut short, and the performance being bumped up to the first act.  Sweaty, and rushing past smocking presenter girls back stage I had 20 minutes to make it to the next destination.  The massive van cab that usually transports Beatdrummer’s drums plus the band was waiting at the entrance.  With two other band member to direct the way we made it right on time, even though we did get lost along the way.  Pierre greeted me with a beer i hand and thanked the boys for getting me there alive; he then walked me into a packed bar hall with a swimming pool seen through the glass doors.  The Sound system was already set up by a kid with cool tattoos, and took me about 10 minutes to get ready and polish off the beer.  After the performance and sweating through another shirt it was nice to unwind and talk global politics as next morning I had to be up early to head down to Bar Reef and Ulpotha(next blog entry!).