Michele Roohani

I am finally in Paris—to stay. Looking for a job and an apartment and so happy that even the gray rainy days don’t make me homesick for my sunny California (yet)!

Everything looks kind of rosy in the Luxembourg Garden:

I am going to take you on a short promenade in Paris: in the morning you have a quick coffee in your hotel room,

If you are lucky you can see the Etoile with almost no traffic:

but if you are really lucky you will catch some new version of the Beatles crossing the streets:

and then you buy your metro ticket (and maybe cigarettes if you are one of my girlfriends),

from here:

and head down to your favorite café in Saint Germain,

or any other nondescript one like this one,

and watch people (something I am not very good at—coming from the U.S. where staring at others is considered a major faux pas):

and more people,

or watch them watch you!

Of course in Paris, everyone is a philosopher and you better get used to it:

and most waiters are annoying!

I personally prefer watching the iconic Parisian rooftops than people:

and temporary exhibitions like the one below:

Next, I will drag you to see the eternal Bonaparte (or Malaparte according to the rest of Europe!)

After lunch, you feed the little sparrows in Place des Vosges,

or see Quasimodo feed them in front of the majestic Notre Dame cathedral:

You may want to see the stage makers in the old Paris Opera house:

and hear me curse Chagall for the nth time for having defaced the original ceiling!

we can go see Dali and ask him why his Venus has open drawers…

From the Montparnasse tower you can see most of the landmarks:

I love this view with the Luxembourg garden as a blob of green in the middle of my photo:

And when you are dead tired you go back home but not before admiring the beautiful bridges of the city of light:

you buy some bread (low carb dieters beware) because that’s all you can afford if you buy anything else in Paris!

A glass of wine and a piece of cheese will be all you need,

you may admire the blue hour from your window:

you may  read a little bit,

then you go to sleep and dream about great stuff…

and wake up to an early deserted Trocadéro:

and watch the rainy morning start in front of a bitter espresso in a very small cup:

and wonder about what the hell you are doing away from the sunny California and your friends and Cyrus,

and the good old  Santa Monica…

but then you remember that you wanted to do that all your life and you better do your best to be happy in the land of Molière!

Dmitri Shostakovich, the great Russian composer, is the ultimate Iron Man! He defeated, with his amazing music, Stalin’s Iron Fist in spite of the Iron Curtain.

Pushkin, Tolstoy and Shostakovich have helped Russia’s spirit endure the darkest moments of its history: the triumph of intense culture over politics.

Shostakovich, this fragile, shy, nervous, unassuming, fidgety little person, had a difficult and complicated relationship with the Soviet government. He lived in constant fear of persecution by a government that needed him for its propaganda machine.

I have been consumed by his music in the past several days; his symphony #8 (3rd movement) and symphony #10 (second movement), his string quartet #8 in C minor (II) are haunting to say the least.

He was influenced first by Prokofiev and Stravinsky (needs a post all to himself) and later by Mussorgsky and Mahler;  I can’t get his music (or his life story) out of my mind: the only way to put it to rest is to write about him.

What I’ve learned from my hero, Isaiah Berlin, is that people (in this case Shostakovich, this tragic figure), can not and should not be judged, from the safety of the 21st century western world, for having failed to stand up against Stalin’s terror machine. It’s just too easy to send others to their death…

“Shostakovich produced a wide range of music. In addition to the 15 symphonies for which he is best known, he wrote operas, film scores, ballets and compositions for theater. He also maintained ties with the literary community by setting the works of prominent Soviet writers (Babi Yar is one of them) to music.”

His symphonies number 5, 8 and 10 are my favorites—music notes are mightier than swords…

I hope you will find a little time to listen to this achingly beautiful music that celebrates life in all its glory and… gore.

Shostakovich : Symphony N° 8, III

Shostakovich: Gustavo Dudamel  Symphony 10 II

Shostakovic: String Quartet No. 8 in C Minor, II

I am utterly saddened by Jean Ferrat’s death; I’ve been wanting to write to him, find him, thank him for years of happiness he’s brought to my life and now it’s just too late…Après toi, qui chantera Aragon?

Ferrat immortalized Aragon’s love poems:

“Que serais-je sans toi qui vins à ma rencontre
Que serais-je sans toi qu’un coeur au bois dormant
Que cette heure arrêtée au cadran de la montre
Que serais-je sans toi que ce balbutiement…”

“Que ce soit dimanche ou lundi
Soir ou matin, minuit, midi
Dans l’enfer ou le paradis
Les amours aux amours ressemblent
C’était hier que je t’ai dit
Nous dormirons ensemble”

Even before he died, I would well up every time I was watching the young Ferrat sing “Ma môme”, in Godard’s film: My life to live. It’s Ferrat himself at the jukebox in this marvelous scene.

“Ma môme, ell’ joue pas les starlettes
Ell’ met pas des lunettes
De soleil
Ell’ pos’ pas pour les magazines
Ell’ travaille en usine
A Créteil

Dans une banlieue surpeuplée
On habite un meublé
Elle et moi
La fenêtre n’a qu’un carreau
Qui donne sur l’entrepôt
Et les toits

On va pas à Saint-Paul-de-Vence
On pass’ tout’s nos vacances
A Saint-Ouen
Comme famille on n’a qu’une marraine
Quelque part en Lorraine
Et c’est loin

Mais ma môme elle a vingt-cinq berges
Et j’crois bien qu’la Saint’Vierge
Des églises
N’a pas plus d’amour dans les yeux
Et ne sourit pas mieux
Quoi qu’on dise

L’été quand la vill’ s’ensommeille
Chez nous y a du soleil
Qui s’attarde
Je pose ma tête sur ses reins
Je prends douc’ment sa main
Et j’la garde

On s’dit toutes les choses qui nous viennent
C’est beau comm’ du Verlaine
On dirait
On regarde tomber le jour
Et puis on fait l’amour
En secret”

Anna Karina is exquisite in Godard’s film; that one scene with the beautiful “chanson” redeems this mediocre movie.

Jean Ferrat stayed true to his principles—close to the communist party, he never became a member and condemned the atrocities of Stalinism.  Listen to his Bilan here. 

“Ah ils nous en ont fait avaler des couleuvres
De Prague à Budapest de Sofia à Moscou
Les staliniens zélés qui mettaient tout en oeuvre
Pour vous faire signer les aveux les plus fous
Vous aviez combattu partout la bête immonde
Des brigades d’Espagne à celles des maquis
Votre jeunesse était l’histoire de ce monde
Vous aviez nom Kostov ou London ou Slansky

Au nom de l’idéal qui nous faisait combattre
Et qui nous pousse encore à nous battre aujourd’hui

Ce socialisme était une caricature
Si les temps on changé des ombres sont restées
J’en garde au fond du coeur la sombre meurtrissure
Dans ma bouche à jamais le soif de vérité”

These are some of his disc covers throughout years of offering us the most unforgettable songs:

Last but not least, my favorite song of Ferrat singing Aragon, Dans le silence de la ville:

“Derrière les murs dans la rue
Que se passe-t-il quel vacarme
Quels travaux quels cris quelles larmes
Ou rien la vie un linge écru

Sèche au jardin sur une corde
C’est le soir cela sent le thym
Un bruit de charrette s’éteint
Une guitare au loin s’accorde

La la la…

Il fait jour longtemps dans la nuit
Un zeste de lune un nuage
Que l’arbre salue au passage
Et le coeur n’entend plus que lui

Ne bouge pas c’est si fragile
Si précaire si hasardeux
Cet instant d’ombre pour nous deux
Dans le silence de la ville”

Heureux celui qui meurt d’aimer…

I made this video clip as an homage to this  great  friend, humaniste, poet, musician:

watch my clip on youtube here Ma môme here

Michael Jackson dies five minutes away from me at UCLA medical center. He was fifty and his death may be a godsend gift to the Iranian government.

The world would be focusing on his death and in spite of him flashing the V sign and wearing a surgical mask (like the Iranian protesters do), his death may be the hardest blow to the people’s revolt in Iran. The media circus will continue to take the attention away from Iran and that would be the real tragedy.

Not knowing the cause of it, I’ve been annoyed by helicopters hovering over my house all afternoon; I am saddened by his death.

In spite of all his recent problems, after the Beatles and Elvis, Michael Jackson defined the popular music of the 20th century. Monumentally talented but fragile and …weird.

I will never forget his most amazing performance of Billy Jean in 1983 (Motown 25 celebration). It’s like Fred Astaire’s dance: you never get tired of watching it.

“He was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene”…May he now rest in peace.

These are the most interesting jazz images i’ve seen! The exhibition in Quai Branly museum in Paris was amazingly rich with visual complements to my favorite genre of music. Catch it if you can but if you don’t, here’s my report:

Miles Davis remains one of my favorites—the following are mostly LP covers from the mid 20th century:

Bud Freeman,

To go through all of my images and get inspired to prepare them for this post, I’ve been  listening to Mingus’ “better get it in your soul”.

Just look at this super cool Count Basie cover by Andy Warhol:

Benny Carter plays pretty:

Sidney Bechet in Paris in 1952:

Dizzy Gillespie’s sextet,

Daddy plays the horn,

The beautiful music of Charlie (the Bird) Parker,

I like these very 50′s percussion disc covers,

I am listening to Thelonious Monk and John Coltrane’s “Nutty”,

Now some posters from the 1920′s forward—Cary Hauser’s Jonny Mene La Danse from 1928:

Look at the musicians here:

Grand Bal de Nuit,

Jan Mara’s Mezze Mezzrow is soooo not “Kenny (my middle name is boring) G”!

A relatively more recent poster from the Lincoln Center:

Now some paintings—Harlem Jazz by Winold Reiss, 1925:

The Lindy Hop by Miguel Covarrubias, 1936:

James Weeks‘ Two Musicians;

Nicolas de Stael‘s Musicians:

Blues by Archibald J. Motley Jr, 1929

Bernard Buffet‘s light drawings:

This Coltrane image is haunting:

and a very politically incorrect piece here called “cake-walk”—can’t imagine an American museum showing this:

Last but not least was this fabulous Fred Astair’s homage to Mr Bojangles on a huge screen that I manipulated of course!

to see him dance watch this absolutely great clip here.

It was very hard to take these pictures (some were on very fast slide shows!) and to clean and edit them later but it was a labor of love; I’ve been wanting to do a post about Jazz for the longest time but where to start? Where to end? Who to cover? This was the shortest way I could record my visit to the Land of Jazz. Thank you Daniel Soutif!

Voilà! Now you know…I have not even started talking about some of my other favorites: Louis Armstrong, Bill Evans, Fats Waller, Keith Jarrett, Ahmad Jamal, Lionel Hampton, etc…

To see some cool clips from the coolest of them all, Miles Davis and John Coltrane, go here

for a taste of the great Monk, go here

to hear the Bird,  click here

to see the genius of Fred Astaire here.

The whole world fell in love with Obama. A collective smile, a collective tear of joy…Women dream about him and men want to be his best friend, but will it last?  We are all keeping our fingers crossed.

Everybody needs a little bit of love in these dark days of uncertainties.

“Cut me a rose, make my tea with the petals…”—from Diana Krall’s very hot  “Peel me a grape”—was my inspiration for this next photo. Watch her sing it here and for a better rendition (just sound) go here.

I have to confess that my love of the moment is this guy  and not somebody with a glass of champagne in his hand; he has the gift of bringing clarity to obscure, chaotic subjects.

I learned today that Sepandarmaz may be the precursor to Valentine’s Day.

بخوان به نام گل سرخ و عاشقانه بخوان

حدیث عشق بیان کن بدان زبان که تو دانی

Shafiee Kadkani

My Valentine 2008 post was one of the most visited ones of my entire blog—we are all romantics after all.

Here is another part of Tagore‘s beautiful love poem to tie Valentine, Frank Rich,  and his version of the slumdog millionaires…

“Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you,
the love of all man’s days both past and forever:
universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life,
the memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours–
and the songs of every poet past and forever.”

I got drunk on music at Frank Gehry’s last night along with two thousand other people. Even though independence day usually is accompanied by the two Adamses – Samuel (the beer),  and John (the second president) -  this year was different.

It was amazing : an Iranian music ensemble called “Mastan” or the drunks, with its  director/vocalist, Parvaz Homaye, performed at Walt Disney music hall. The astonishing thing is that this group lives and performs in Iran and has chosen a name and lyrics laced with wine/intoxication/breaking repentance/dissent/hope… The young vocalist actually played on two big jugs – khomreh – that begged to be full of wine like Jesus’ in the marriage of cana!

How the mullahs managed to asphyxiate 70 million people by depriving them of music and wine is beyond my comprehension… Just look at these paintings: where there is music, there is wine. The concert last night proved that if you take the wine out of a Persian’s life, he’ll continue to sing about it! Move your mouse on the images to see a description of the paintings and the year they  were created.

These instruments have not changed in centuries but the music has evolved. I love this painting of Kamancheh (upright fiddle), tar and daf:

This gorgeous painting in a palace in Isfahan from around 1670:

Last but not least is this funny looking dude playing a lute:

Passionate improvisation is the basis of Persian classical music. Watch this clip to see some hard core first-rate Persian musicians – Kayhan Kalhor on kemancheh (spike fiddle), Hussein Alizadeh on tar (lute), Shajarian on vocals, and his son on tombak (hand drum) – warning to the uninitiate: there is heavy duty yodeling! I couldn’t resist adding these pictures of the great Kalhor playing and Yo-Yo Ma watching – they collaborated on the Silk Road Project:

Watch the Mastan here – they will be performing in San Francisco, San Diego and Washington D.C. this July.

صبح است ساقیا قدحی پرشراب کن
دور فلک درنگ ندارد شتاب کن
زان پیشتر که عالم فانی شود خراب
ما را ز جام باده گلگون خراب کن

حافظ

Listening to Rufus Cappadocia the other day on NPR, I almost had an accident! I seldom get excited about “fusion/cross-cultural music” but the more I listened to it, the bigger the smile got on my face. Just watch this clip to see what I got all excited about.

I liked what I heard so much that I made several images out of the few pictures I could find of him online. Rufus is a New York-based cellist and composer, a multilingual musician, a world music traveler, having studied and performed in a variety of traditions from American blues, folk and jazz to Spanish flamenco, Haitian vodou drumming and various styles from the Balkans, the Middle East and India. Reminding me that his last name, Cappadocia, is where Rumi lived, Rufus told me about his work with Rumi’s poetry and Vishal Vaid, the extraordinary Ghazal vocalist.

His CD sold out after the NPR piece but it will be in stock this week – it’s also available on iTunes. A modified cello has given him the flexibility to play in many settings with other musicians. Rufus is playing on May 18th in Oakland with Stellamara. Check it out if you live in the area.

The real magician is the one who puts Jimmy Hendrix and classical Persian music together…

So I am a movie junkie (and a news junkie, a history junkie, etc…) but the Oscar ceremony in spite of the very funny Jon Stewart almost always leaves me cold. A bunch of over-pampered, over-paid brats with some over-hyped films to be over-promoted! How about an award ceremony for great teachers or diligent beekeepers for a change? The red carpet saw a lot of blood this year…

Don’t get me wrong, I like big budget films but it’s always refreshing to see a low/no budget movie that makes it…I came out of Juno with smoke coming out of my ears – teen pregnancy is no laughing matter to me and to be so nonchalant about it in a movie that caters to the young is even worse – the script was over-written and awash in smart-ass dialog but I have to admit that the actors were all good.

Having an abortion is hard (just watch the great movie 4 months, 3 weeks and 2 days from Rumania) but keeping the baby when you are 16 and giving it away must be harder. The U.S. is the only western country that still has a constant debate about abortion (thanks to organized religion of course). The picture above is from a métro billboard in France; it says: Sexuality, Contraception, Abortion, a right, my choice, our freedom. Can you imagine this happening in the States?

I am glad that Once won in the song category and the acceptance speeches were the best of the the night. I saw Glen Hansard first in the excellent rock and roll film The Commitments and he’s just gotten better. The song that got the oscar, Falling Slowly, is worth listening to.

Of the movies that were nominated and didn’t get far I loved the visually stunning The diving bell and the butterfly and The Savages and of course Persepolis. I read the diving bell book some years ago and found it depressing but the film was a masterpiece, Julian Schnabel‘s masterpiece. I left all three movies with a feeling of elation, joy…

“Étais-je aveugle et sourd ou bien faut-il nécessairement la lumière d’un malheur pour éclairer un homme sous son vrai jour?” Le scaphandre et le papillon
“Had I been blind and deaf it wouldn’t take the harsh light of disaster for me to find my true nature” The diving bell and the butterfly

Los Angeles is basking in the light of having the remarkable Dudamel as its philharmonic orchestra’s next music director starting 2009.

“True class: South America’s lightning conductor . . . what I experienced was sensational. His name is Gustavo Dudamel – he produced enough electricity to light up Birmingham – a young man with boundless talent, deeply in love, and the world at his feet.” The Times (London)
Dudamel started by playing the violin before becoming a conductor – listen to him play as the devil himself in this clip. His joy and exuberance are contagious.

Venezuela is not all about Chavez and his histrionics – it could also be about El Sistema, an organization that gave birth to the likes of Dudamel through teaching music to children. I first read about this a few months back but tonight the 60 minutes program (a must see) just blew me away…250,000 Venezuelan teenagers and children, most from impoverished backgrounds, are participating in El Sistema that has already produced many world class musicians – Mahler and Bernstein are keeping them out of trouble – All over the world, young people have so much to give and from whom so little is expected…

My other favorite Venezuelan is Manuel Graterol‘s daughter, Flor.

Of course amid all this musical euphoria, the cynic in me remembers George Steiner‘s quote: “we know that a man can read Goethe or Rilke in the evening, that he can play Bach and Schubert, and go to his day’s work at Auschwitz in the morning.