A song is a key for locked memory boxes. A song can transport you back through time, giving you a chance to relive moments and ideas that occurred back when you first heard that song. A song is not just a song; it is also a story.
Photos by J T
Los Indios Tabajaras – “Always in my heart (Siempre en Mi Corazón)”
All my early childhood music memories came from the surrounding environment, whether it was Madonna tapes in the 80s from my sister’s boombox, my dad’s doo wop CDs, Mandarin Chinese pop, Janet Jackson’s Rhythm Nation on MTV or Wu Tang and Biggie Smalls in high school. It all had some kind of subliminal impact on my psyche as a kid. Simply because it was before taste, critique and preference got involved (which I’m happy to say I’ve abandoned that kind of thinking along with my college years and can really enjoy music for what it naturally does, instead of being offended when I can’t understand something and judge everything with my arms crossed like some indie music snob caricature).
So the beginning of me getting turned on to music that was beyond my personal taste were movie soundtracks. Not only did I get into the Latin rhythm grooves of Xavier Cugat, I also got into weird vocal acapella songs, jazz and vocalists from the Depression era all the way through to post WWII, and Frank Zappa even. I no longer viewed them as dated, dusty, weird music that I couldn’t relate to, but in a film context: an invitation to a different world altogether. Kind of like time travel and getting drunk whilst feeling happy/or sad, all mixed into one. A form of escapism perhaps, but it developed my appreciation for things that I couldn’t possibly understand before. To reach out to the unknown and discovering a whole new world of shit that I didn’t know existed. I apply that kind of thinking to everything I do in life now, from food to languages to people that I meet, I’m always happy to encounter and try new things and try to be respectful to different cultures. Just because I don’t understand it doesn’t mean I retain the right to ridicule it. That’s left over colonialism bullshit talking in your head. Superiority, ethnocentric slab of shit that you should shit out of your system. I’ve tried eating live octopus recently and I didn’t enjoy it. But at least I gave it a shot without writing it off like some weird foreign goofy shit. I fucking chewed that shit as its tentacles were sucking onto my tongue. I fought with my food and I won and ate it. I can understand it. Nonetheless, it’s no croquette or fucking tiramisu. The Koreans say it’s what separates the boys from MEN. Amen to that.
Anyways (sorry got side tracked), at the age of 16, that opening sequence below was all the reason I needed to appreciate Los Indios Tabajaras. Watch some of that magic for yourself.
- Alex Zhang Hungtai of Dirty Beaches
Photos by J T
