‘The popular radio program ‘Listener’s Choice’ may have been our first attempt to westernize ourselves.
‘The popular radio program ‘Listener’s Choice’ may have been our first attempt to westernize ourselves.
If you are from Madras of a particular time, of a certain age, and of a specific socio-economic background, your introduction to Western music Was To be through the prism of Anglo-Indians.
I speak of children from middle-class families of the mid-70s, families who did not have turntables, and whose desperate, impressionable ears, to their desperate, impressionable ears, were the only supplier of music from both within and outside borders.
’70s Western Pop Music Was Primer Audience Choice, a popular radio program broadcast on Saturday evenings and Sunday afternoons. And most requests came from young Anglo-Indian men and women.
While one might assume that the ’70s belonged to the timeless strains of Deep Purple, The Stones, Bob Dylan, The Doors, and the freshly dismantled Beatles, thanks to Cedric’s passionate and persistent postcards written in convent-perfect cursive. , Sharon, Avitas and Winston of St. Thomas Mount, Perambur and Arakkonam, our early musical influences from the west coasts were Carole King, Dalia Lavi, Wanda Jackson, Nana Mouscori, Tom Jones, Neil Diamond, Tony Orlando and Don, The Partridge Family. , CCR, The New Seekers, Sonny & Cher, and the most indispensable of them all, The Osmonds: Donnie, Mary and Sirpy Little Jimmy (with his bath) My mother), working as a tag team. From time to time attendance is made with the venerable Jim Reeves. And above all, two Anglo-Indian boys from Madras and Lucknow who did well, M/s Engelbert Humperdinck and Cliff Richard.
“Our favorite compere was smooth as silk, warm as milk, Rupert Benjamin. When he spoke, it was as if he was talking straight to Devulapalli’s progeny.
A bi-weekly radio experience
Audience Choice And pop music, when I think about it now, must have been my first attempt on behalf of my sisters and myself to ‘Westernize’ myself. It seemed that music would do what movies and books absolutely could not. Father and grandfather were the evidence. They both studied English literature, though of very different kinds, and were fond of Hollywood. Yet they both remained stubborn, quintessentially Telugu. Thatha was worn greedy And punch and exclusively written in Telugu. Dad wore trousers and a shirt, mainly tucked tails in and boots to impress us, but was still without any regrets gals. An uninterrupted diet of music, which Anglo-Indians dictated, we probably thought, would be the X factor that would cleanse us from our hitherto torturous unattainable bourgeoisie, and make us two streets away from our cousins like cool Westerners. will change into
Our favorite Radio Comparer was the smooth as silk, warm as milk, Rupert Benjamin. When he spoke, it seemed that he was talking directly to the Devulapalli child. Our biweekly radio experience revolves around Grandpa’s renovation bush From the 50s, immediately went up a notch when it was presented by Rupert.
, and now,‘Special Request Gone,’ Michelle, Sylvester and Baby Gladys from Tambaram, Suraj and Neeta from Haddos Road, and Marakadam, Tamilselvi and Karthi from Kodambakkam, and last but not least, not to forget Simon, Letitia, Ambrose, Grandma and Grandpa Briggs of Chrompet – cousins With a special birthday wish for Desiree, who turns Sweet Sixteen today – we bring you ‘Knock Three Times’ from Tony Orlando and Don…,
American pop group of the 70s Tony Orlando and Don. , photo credit: WikiCommons
But it was not as if we blindly – or rather, deaf – agreed with all his options.
Jim Reeves and his ‘I’ll Fly Away’ , Favorite was favorite. Our choice for the song was inversely proportional to its popularity. There was a time when this song became Audience Choice Essentially, expire or expire on a weekly basis. Why would a song in Gentleman Jim’s lacrimose baritone be about freeing yourself from the prison bars of life in order to reach God’s celestial shores? He Popular on Saturday nights when glamorous Anglo-Indian couples were reputed to dance around the radio with gay abandon, I couldn’t imagine. For us ,‘I’ll Fly Away’ becomes what Telugu people dubbed good find To demarcate songs in movies that were inserted purely to facilitate piss breaks.
Another song – which we totally loved, in fact – was a Audience Choice Engelbert Humperdinck’s ‘Leaving on a Jet Plane’ was a must.
What a great taste!
The crescendo of our Radio Days came when Rupert Benjamin declared, in your own voiceAfter what seemed like a brutally endless wait: ‘ For the pleasure of listening to Rekha, Revathi and Krishna now known as Bablu in the house, we bring you Tom Jones and his ‘Letter to Lucille’,
The postcard might have been written by my older sister because she had the best writing. But the song was chosen by me! Damn, we were celebrities now. All the people of Madras would know our names. and what a great taste I Was.
As I entered my teens and hormones took hostile takeover of my faculties, listening to Anglo-Indians and radio recommendation, I began to hear my feet. I had discovered the dance: an unqualified, unintentionally epileptic interpretation of what I had seen Saturday night Fever And its byproducts, which I used mercilessly at low-budget (mostly) alcohol-free afternoon parties. These dos were conducted hastily in homes – from Tambaram to foreshore estates – to any friends, acquaintances or parents of a passerby who were temporarily moved for anything from a wedding to a funeral. Corrupting at least half the number of girls as compared to boys was almost as important as keeping the intrusive sun of Madras away from the venue, and getting the right shade of darkness by packing the windows with bulletproof newspaper. This was a time when music existed for only one reason: to dance with the girls.
To fly
With disbanding in the 70s to 80s, ABBA and the Bee Gees dominated T. Nagar and its surrounding suburbs. Until the host’s parents came back to shove us away, a mix of romance and rhythm needed a cassette each. Between the two bands, they had enough fast numbers to warm up, and slow numbers to cool down in equal measure (merely speaking). For the latter, we danced slowly—which was really all of it—in awkward, sweaty shirts, with the more adventurous girls in the group with stupid grins and horribly hidden bad intentions.
When the Maruti 800 arrived with its built-in music system, one thought St. Thomas Mount was a perfect venue for improvised dance parties. With the stereo turned on, the boot open, while the boys took turns dancing with the limited number of partners available, the people waiting their turn were alerted to see if either the soldiers or the locals were at our parties. were on their way to rob. It was a night when I danced in slow motion with a cute little girl for air supply, with airport lights blinking from afar, that I felt some shock.
I wondered why ‘I’ll Fly Away’ and ‘Leaving on a Jet Plane’ were such favorites of Anglo-Indians in the age of radio. They were both about to say goodbye, and that’s what they were preparing to do. Fly, leave on jets, don’t know when they’ll be back again – as the song went – to Australia, the UK and New Zealand. And leave us all poor.
The author is a novelist, columnist and screenwriter.