Read and Appreciated in 2002
A Year’s Best List
5. The Ascetic of Desire, by Sudhir Kakar
There is no greater literary delight than being given an erotic novel by a beautiful woman. My friend Reshmi Mukherjee bought this book in India and I sensed there was something different about it before I even turned the first page. The cover somehow glowed. When I did start reading it, I was charmed by the languorous prose, which also glows, sometimes darkly, if such a thing is possible. The tale concerns the legendary Vatsyayana, author of the Kamasutra, and his hesitant journey into sexual awakening. The erotic episodes, of which there are many, range from very tender to perverse, but are all composed with that almost mystical tension, threat of unspecified danger and truth which is crucial to any genuinely erotic prose, and which only a few writers, such as Bataille and Réage, capture successfully. Kakar is one of those.
Music
Consuming music is much easier than consuming books, because it tends to go along on its own, in the background if necessary, and can be indulged with closed eyes. Although I feel burned out by all the reading I did, I am still hungry for music. I discovered a phenomenal amount of brilliant material in 2002 and I despair of naming it all here. This year was also one in which I played the piano in public for the first time, badly as a matter of fact. I saw fewer live bands than I should have liked but two local groups fired my imagination. The Rag Foundation, who are more used to playing in exotic locations around the world, performed a handful of Swansea gigs with their usual skill and verve. And the Kingsway Cowboys continued to experiment with surf music, one improbable highlight being a version of Motörhead’s Ace of Spades sung in a Norwegian accent with trumpet and bongos as backing.
The beginning of the year found me listening to The Klezmatics and other klezmer bands. Jewish music was virtually unknown territory to me before this. Cheeky, funky and demented, klezmer is a music which seems to vibrate every cell in a listener’s body, making them dance at high speed for a mysterious, never revealed purpose. The Klezmatics’ version of Naftule Brandwein’s “Fun Tashlach” is miraculous, full of exuberant and strange loops and swoops, exciting but also melancholy. The sum of life is in this tune. Other klezmer outfits I enjoyed immensely include the Flying Bulgar Klezmer Band, Naftule’s Dream and Di Naye Kapelye, all bursting with energy and enigmas.
I also discovered soukous and Congolese rumba and the great Franco Luambo Makiadi, one of the finest guitarists to ever apply fingers to strings. His jangly, punchy style, with its spiralling notes and lengthy buildups is addictive and utterly satisfying. It is funky, mesmerising, hot. He began his career in the 1950s by importing merengue and related Latin styles from the Caribbean into Africa, reversing the traditional direction of musical trade. I was also impressed by the soukous of Pépé Kallé and his Empire Bakuba. Other African acts, or acts using African elements, I heard for the first time were Kotoja, Baka Beyond and Laura Love, all on the excellent Putumayo label.
Under the influence of my friend Reshmi I discovered the pleasures of bhangra, Bollywood and modern Indian music in general. Acts such as Najma Akhtar, Falguni Pathak and Shazia Manzoor astounded and charmed me with the gorgeousness of their songs. Susheela Raman’s Salt Rain was a revelation, using as its core the musical heritage of South India, which is quite unlike its Northern counterparts, and backing it up with funky guitars and tribal percussion. The Tamil vocals are quite beautiful and Susheela’s intensity is irresistibly alluring. I was also impressed and inspired by the rich Sufi music of the Sabri Brothers and Abida Parween and their complex, entrancing songs.
