a belated gypsy kings concert rave.
actually, the band performing was called "chico and the gypsies". am still not quite sure what relation this group had to the original nicolas reyes band. and how much of their music was authentically gypsy. but i already have favourite book and film gypsies. and anyone who's sat in my car has probably survived my driving only by concentrating on the best of gypsy kings album. (in my defence, the traffic here sucks. so it's not all my fault.)
the whole concert was kept very lowkey. so the huge palace grounds were empty. a few of us stood forlornly in the last section. in the emptiness and bright lights, moths the size of birds in chettinad cuisine floated about.
the stage filled up and the band began to play. they sang the power of love, in spanish (or romany?) - so am not sure whether the chubby guy actually sang "cos i'm your lady, and you are my man".
turned around after a while and found the section empty. the music had been pretty good so far, so i couldnt understand how EVERYONE had decided to leave. then saw an organiser wave us over. he was inviting us to the foremost section of the crowd.
dizzy with excitement (exaggeration alert) we headed to the front- where some poor sods had paid 1500 to be.
and then the best concert of my life began (not exaggerating). the band was so close, they could hear us scream! and so we did! and the crowd was small, but packed together, with the right amount of energy, so those who wanted to dance could. and those who wanted to shout ole! at the end of each song could too.
ole! i would cry. also ola! and opa!
the youngest chappie played some beautiful guitar solos. the band of gypsy brethren -all plump and in black, strummed flamenco and manuelo sang sad songs in spanish. didnt understand a word, but got the general drift when he'd point at the crowd, his heart and look sad.
and then there were the fast songs. ole! lots of baila! baila! baila! was sung. figured out the next day that they were asking us to dance, not be bullish.
someone in the crowd kept asking for un amor, except he called it un amore, and a spanish speaker would keep yelling back, "its un amor, estupido!" so when another chappie started requesting la bamba, i had to yell, "that's los lobos, tonto!"
nothing like live music and correcting other people, eh?
the following weekend, bangalore was treated to those danes still trying to learn to rock. i wanted to be at the entry point and slap everyone who'd want to listen to someone whining about not even having his own car, but didn't appreciate the kings singing a mi manera.
not quite sinatra, but they did it their way.