Wednesday, November 21, 2007

One song and a five minute stand

Some songs don't just jam, they invoke a strong and kneejerk reaction. Songs don't shake me up easily, but Massive Attack's fabulous "Teardrop" did.

Having drinks with a friend a month ago, Madrone's smart DJ dropped that song, the biggest lounge surprise I've had in years.

The sensual, ethereal crooning of Elizabeth Fraser was spellbinding; I floated back to some of my wildest years: London in the late 90s. I was young, stupid, the scene was hot, and sleep was impossible.

Like in Madrone, the song flowed out slowly and smoothly in a London club, and with it came a visceral feeling of passion. I exchanged glances with A, her bright black eyes trying to say something intimate. Instantly, we clutched each other tightly and swooned to Fraser's vocals for a few minutes. We were just friends, but the song evoked that strong a reaction.

It ended when a Eurotrash mix blew out the speakers. We were perhaps wasted, not knowing what we did, but I haven't forgotten those few moments.

So I landed a tease call to now-married A in London, telling her the Madrone moment didn't feel complete without her. She's got a razor-sharp memory, so it wasn't surprising she remembered those moments like it were yesterday. She now was intent on learning how I felt during the swoon, so she played along.

She grimaced loudly: "Want to share something? An emotion, perhaps?"

"A, come on, that was ages ago! We were young and stupid," I said, chuckling.

"You felt nothing in your heartless soul?" she said, behaving heartbroken.

"Yes, it was a special moment, but..."

"But what...?" she asked.

"Can I call it a 5-minute stand? I don't want your husband killing me!" I asked in humor. I've learned this the hard way, never tell women 'we're just friends' or similar. Be a bit more appreciative of what they mean to you.

It was a special moment, we agreed, but not much spice otherwise. But the song could have well redefined my my life in just a few minutes.

It was released when lounge in general -- Thievery Corp. and Buddha Bar's experimental tones -- started entering the quartet of club styles: house & trance (mostly summer ibiza anthems), hip hop, classic 70s/80s, and international (which included bhangra/rai/garage).

Fraser's lyrics were indecipherable, like most of her Cocteau Twins songs, but it has this weird charm that still haunts both A and me. Just amazing what it did.

And I heard a snippet of the song again recently. Until it disappears, I'm in for hell.

(A! hola!)


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Well, you had your chance. The last thing I want is to be on your list of failures. :-)

Miss ya

2:07 PM  
Blogger Khakra said...


8:19 PM  
Blogger Id it is said...

Interesting! Some moments become memorabilia for a lifetime; their intensity to arouse and evoke never dwindles...cherish them; they one day become your measure of finding out whether you're alive.

7:29 AM  
Blogger Id it is said...

No postings in a while...??

3:23 PM  
Blogger EYE said...

That's a nice observation about women. You got to tell them something more than that they are just friends.
---the erstwhile jhansikirani

6:19 PM  
Blogger Khakra said...

just a bit sidelined id, thanks for the concern. using your note as a measuring stick, right now my life's pretty poor, i really want to relive those days! some of the best in my life.

eye! independence of jhansikirani dwindled after marriage? kidding. i must also add.. women can be pretty fickle when not treated appropriately, for me sometimes it's like "why do i have to do this every time?" an exercise in patience I guess, but that thought brings me back on track.

9:49 PM  

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