At the moment I am reading not one, but three books.
It is not just a sign of my scatterbrain and apparently short concentration but really, it all depends where inspiration leads me. There are other two books that I enjoy as well in different ways and seriously planning to finish them, however the moment when I entered the crew library on the ship (which means very first day, because this is what I do first to check what's there) second (and a third!) part of the saga caught my eye and I actually laughed out loud from excitement.
Now, I truly did enjoyed TV serial "Game of Thrones" and watched all of them with greatest pleasure so once I decided to check out the novels, somehow the first one didn't really feel so exciting because I already knew what will happen and reading seemed a little bit pointless. Surprisingly, the second part of the saga actually feels like almost completely new experience because it is so full of details and characters omitted from TV serial that suddenly this is a fresh perspective on the whole story. For example, at the very first chapter we are in gloomy Dragonstone ruled by stern Stannis Baratheon (brother of deceased king Robert) and here we have countless characters not showed in TV serial, like court clown Patchface described in a few sentences as extremely interesting personality, kind of madman saved by Gods from drowning (he apparently survived three days at the sea after a ship sunk and something happened to him that he became almost madman, where previously he was witty and entertaining). Like before, every chapter is told from perspective of a different person which gives interesting feel to the story that is basically a mosaic with thousands of puzzle pieces that reader is supposed to connect. Even though I am familiar with the story itself, reading it in the book is this time actually fascinating because everything is described in a great detail - so naturally I left other two books aside for now and really can't wait each night to finish my work to dive into mythical world of George R.R.Martin, it is really that good. I am bit apprehensive about the sheer volume of these books because it seems time consuming and perhaps I could read several other titles while going trough one of these, but never mind - its not about numbers and quantities anyway. Someone once surprised me by asking "how many books did you read this year?" and although I know the answer because I always write it down, it is not the numbers that matter to me, it is the quality that stays with me - the long list of fluffy entertainment that didn't register always pale compared with perhaps one or two really moving titles that come my way. Also the volume does not always promise greatness - sometimes the big book is simply long book - some of the most satisfying books that left deep impression on me were actually very slim volumes, like "My Ántonia"by Willa Cather that I absolutely adored, beautiful and powerful book that was hidden behind completely simple little volume that could fit in my pocket.
Yesterday I walked trough Palermo and out of habit checked bookshops and music by local artists - there was nothing I couldn't live without and unfortunately Internet had made music so easily available that nowadays I don't even have that old urge to buy and collect as before. I noticed few releases by old school Italian singers like Luigi Tenco and Fabrizio De André and said to myself "maybe I should buy this and send as a surprise gift to Arsen Dedić" - looking from outside, I might be adult, middle-aged man but inside I still have soft spot for my idols and this summer while on vacation I read that old man had a serious health problems, so I though this might perhaps cheer his hospital days. It was just one of the current news, replaced quickly with other news and this irritated me because everything else seemed trivial and superficial compared with the fact that giant of Croatian music is seriously ill in a hospital. It worried me but somehow deep inside I was sure he would recover and probably write tons of new songs. Since I very rarely check Internet while I'm sailing, the sad news about his passing caught me completely by surprise and I fell apart in the middle of some pizzeria in Napoli, cried my eyes out alone at the table - surely the scene was like something out of his songs - it turned out he actually died several days ago and I was completely unaware of it because I was at sea.
Every time I make some mental list of who's who in Croatian music, my own personal list always starts with Arsen and than I add few more important people as a cornerstones, as the big five, the ones who matter, the ones who broke the ice and inspired generations that followed. Now suddenly I realised something that earlier never occurred to me, that all this time in my head Arsen was actually nr.one - not just chronologically but in a sense of importance, he precedes everybody elseand often the rest of important names actually started with songs written by him.
Što me čini sretnom - Josipa Lisac 1969 (composer Arsen Dedić)
Ne plači - Bisera Veletanlić 1971 (composer Arsen Dedić)
Proljeće bez Tebe - Ksenija Erker 1974 (composer Arsen Dedić)
This is just from the top of my head because I love these particular singers and this is how they started - their first hits were songs by Arsen Dedić - but you can find his name on countless hit records by other artists, not to mention his music for movies, TV, theatre, children, festivals, even advertisements ("Ledolina"!) he did it all and he did it with a style. No matter who sings it, you can recognise Arsen's lyrics. I remember once during a car ride that one of his old songs came on the radio and we all agreed that not only it was a beautiful poetry but you can clearly tell its written by him, it has that recognisable something , some poetic twist that after 50 years we all started taking for granted, because we got used that Arsen stands above any competition.
There were tons of awards, some even international - “Jacques Brel” award and "Premio Tenco" that actually officially placed Arsen in the league with nine most influential pop songwriters like Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Neil Young or Bulat Okudžava - but for us who followed him from year to year, it was all about poetry. Oh, poetry. Nobody could ever match Arsen when inspired (mind you, even when obviously crafting lyrics for others, he was ever professional) and no matter who sings it, it always gets me right in the heart. For us, Croatians and everybody born in these parts, he was our own Charles Aznavour, Jacques Brel, Gilbert Becaud, Sergio Endrigo and Gino Paoli - he could be lighthearted and playful, but most of the time his most recognisable trademark was some strange, haunting melancholy. Because he was so successful and prolific as a pop music composer, it took forever for literary circles to seriously accept him as a poet, although there were twenty-something poetry collections published under his name, starting with 1971. "Brod u boci" that sold unbelievable 60 000 items (poetry collection!) and I guess no matter the music or even the hits, the voice (or lack of - just like Dylan, he was notoriously declamatory, talk-singing artist), at the end of the day when dust settles it will be his poetry that people will remember, so yes, Arsen was a great poet. Who also happened to compose music for his lyrics.
Appreciation of his art did not come to me immediately - like countless other kids, I was influenced by my parents who smirked and criticised at music that was not instantly entertaining and trough my childhood I would listen about that boring Arsen, on the other hand nobody complained when that exactly same material was sung by his wife who was still probably the best interpreter of his music (kind of Dylan/Baez where people who couldn't stomach Dylan actually loved his music as sung by Baez). It didn't take me long to discover that most of the things my parents detested actually appealed to me very much - classical music, cauliflower, Brussel sprouts, Ingmar Bergman, Arsen Dedić (perhaps not in that order). First it was his poetry, than slowly trough his huge discography I started to actually seriously enjoy his music and even though detractors often complained about his singing technique and "reciting" it didn't bother me at all, I grew up on me and in fact today I love Arsens originals far more than anybody else singing his music. I sing along with him just fine.
I spoke to the man briefly once during my journalistic days - I was writing article about veteran musicians who often outlive their popularity and live their old days frustrated as nobody invites them to perform anymore, so I did kind of survey what some of singers think about the subject. Of all of them, Arsen impressed me to this day, as he didn't just answer whatever but carefully listened my question and than asked me to call him back in 30 minutes and he will have to think what kind of answer he will give me - and he came up with eloquent, erudite and intelligent opinion that it doesn't matter what kind of profession you are in, stonemason or baker or musician, the years of experience should in theory just make you better so age basically has nothing to do with it. Ah yes, I have also visited his bedroom - by mistake naturally - you see, both Arsen and Gabi were gracious people willing to help young, unknown musicians and after one interview with her (where we hit it off perfectly as she is a real sweetheart) Gabi Novak asked me could I please write something about certain young pianist lady who was soon to have her very first concert in Zagreb, of course I did because when Gabi asks you would do anything for her - after our short conversation and some wine that got in my head, I was escorted to the entrance and somehow by mistake blundered into what turned out the be bedroom - we both giggled, it was a sweet moment. I have actually seen the bed where Arsen slept!
Besides occasional concert, music has long stopped being communal experience for me - I listen to the music alone, I soak everything in, listen carefully, analyse and it is never just a noise in the background, so naturally since Arsen music is mostly based on poetry (although he also has quite large repertoire of instrumentals) he is my perfect choice to listen when I'm alone with myself. This I believe is the main problem with people who never had patience or simply habit to approach music seriously as a medium that speaks to them but take it as non-committal entertainment - if for you music is simply noise in the background, than you probably don't even have predisposition to listen to the lyrics in the first place. So with time I started to unconsciously divide my acquaintances into people who read and love poetry (therefore probably Arsen) and those who don't. For every person who would tell me that he can't stomach Arsen because he is not for the ordinary man on the street I would point that this is not true because absolutely everybody is familiar with at least a line or two from his music, be it children's song that everybody joyously sings in the kindergarten, local melody from some festival that is so ancient that people think its a folk song or some other artist's hit that everybody knows and it was actually written by Arsen. His poetry - usually instantly recognisable because it has that elegant twist that only Arsen comes up with - deals with so many different faces of human life (loneliness, sadness, melancholy, yearning, disappointments, heartbreak, hunger that is literary and metaphorical) that I honestly don't understand how is it possible that person can hear/read his song without being stopped in the track. Naturally, not everything touches me with the same force - some experiences are his own, others more universal where everybody can recognise himself. It is a huge body of work that spreads trough decades so I roughly divide it into three stages - young Arsen in the 1960s when he was still a skinny troubadour singing love songs (curiously it was also his most commercial period, full of hits like "Okus soli", "Moderato Cantabille", "Sve što znaš o meni", "Djevojka za jedan dan" and "Sve bilo je muzika", middle period that covers a list of long-play albums full of mind-boggling poetry set into music and autumn years where each occasional and rare album was a little masterpiece of detailed attention and reflection of the world around him, a shift towards materialism that he found disgusting and annoying (I believe this is why he is perceived as intimidating where in fact I would guess he was simply impatient with primitive, superficial people around him). As a true Artist and a Giant, he must felt frustrated with small minded provincialism that clashed with his worldview of a international poet - after all he was a man who would get greetings & postcards from Jacques Brel who was leaving the hotels day before Arsen would arrive and here he is being tortured with unimaginative journalists asking him for 365th time who was real inspiration behind his love song. Since I had listened - and still do - everything he ever recorded, I have selected that first chapter (now almost forgotten) as my favorite so I am fairly stuck with those early EP recordings from 1960s and love them dearly but every now and than I re-visit the rest of his discography and must say that I will love it as love as I live.
I don't care for people who don't like Arsen or small characters who love good gossip about celebrity they never met but they know everything - I cherish fun stories, I cherish my own impressions and most of all, I am seriously inspired with his poetry and music that I constantly find brilliant and often listen to the lyrics attentively because that particular turn of a phrase perfectly reflect my own opinions. Once deep down bellow in South Africa I was chilling out on a top of the ship long after midnight (after a particularly exhausting working day) and there came some machinist who during conversation quoted some Arsen's lyrics - I loved it - just loved that moment where unknown man comes to me in completely opposite part of the world and knows Arsen enough to actually quote his lyrics, for me that was the beauty of life. And this morning, naturally, a new colleague (a nice guy from Serbia who I am just getting to know) quoted some more Arsen, in fact he quoted exactly the same song I was listening while dressing up.
I am deeply saddened that my beloved Arsen is not amongst us anymore but I am also 100% sure that his huge body of work will outlive all of us and time will come when his poetry will be taught in the schools. Of all Croatian artists that I know, he is probably the only one I always loved without any reservations and always found beauty in each and every of his albums. I can't even list favourite songs because there are simply just so many of them colouring different chapters of my life. He is gone now but I will listen his music forever, just like I always did.
Intrigued with recent documentary about Nina Simone - who was fascinating personality, no matter from which side you look at her - I dived head on into this book and almost half way trough it already. Author Nadine Cohodas is an old friend, I read her books about recording company Chess and biography of Dinah Washington so I kind of had idea how she writes - she is very detailed, perhaps excessively so sometimes but has very interesting opinions and a gift for connecting the dots, in short her books & subjects are often fascinating. You can tell she have done her homework, its just that lists of dates and names occasionally makes the dry reading.
As I am still reading, I will note just a few things here:
Simone was nurtured into classical piano player from an early age. Other siblings have to stay away from piano and no one else was allowed to play because little Simone would get enraged. Sounds familiar? Contrary to her lifelong hatred of white people, Simone can actually thank to white patrons for helping her from the very start: it was white lady, Mrs.Miller who paid for music lessons with Mrs.Mazzanovich and dear "Mazzy" who taught her about right posture, how to enter the stage, present herself and impress the audience. Mazzy must have been impressed with her protégé because once Simone had returned home on a school break and held her own classical recital, teacher couldn't help but show off a little bit and played a few notes on piano, while asking Simone to identify them, with her back turned to the piano.
The book is also interesting because it double-checks Simone's own peculiar and selective memory: you can call it artistic point of view or simply her own narcissistic, self-delusional perspective but most of the time she would twist and turn the facts until they suited her stories and no doubts she would believe in them herself later. After all, who was there to challenge her? One of the facts is: she wanted to became first black female classical pianist and great tragedy of her life was that she was not admitted to music academy, in her opinion "because I was poor and black". Reality check: there were already quite a few black female pianists in United States already well known (Natalie Hinderas, for one). The teacher on that very same music academy claims: "Oh no, it had nothing to do with her colour or her background. She wasn’t accepted because there were others who were better, and that was the whole posture of the Curtis Institute. She wasn’t a genius, but she had talent." And from here you have roots of anger, frustration and hatred that Simone continuously felt towards what she perceived as white racism but what if she never played that darn piano, what destination and turn would her life otherwise have? In that case she would be just another angry, moody and frustrated woman with incredibly bad temper. It was because of her music talent that all of this was accepted, though I must say that reading about her constant outbursts towards audience - right now I am at the point where she left classical music and started performing in night clubs - gets a bit tiresome. You get a feeling she was a self-deluded prima donna who demanded respect and was quite adamant about it, without any charm or persuasion. As much as I liked her music, I believe that in real life I would not have any patience for her.
Who knows why - it could be simply work exhaustion or general coping with life's different turns and disappointments - but this last vacation I did not read much. In fact, I didn't do anything much because the preferred way of spending the time was just sitting in the shade and listening the nature, without forcing myself into any kind of action. I did suffered trough the beginning of book by Timothy Findley that for various reasons simply didn't click with me and lost quite a lot of time trying to get into it, just to eventually gave up on it. So it came as very refreshing surprise that I dived into this book completely spontaneously in the air plane, on my way to Barcelona. In fact, I enjoyed it so much that I have just finished it victoriously and my head buzzing with informations.
"An Edible History of Humanity" is all about human history trough the prism of food. When you think of it, biologically we are motivated with certain vary basic needs and food has always been one of them. We might think about other spiritual gifts and consider ourselves far more refined, full of compassion, generosity, taste and sensibility but its actually the stomach that leads the way, most of the time. Tom Standage whizz trough the thousands of years just to point that these strange, omnivorous beings called humans were always focused on food, food, food and it was way to collect, store, preserve, accumulate and share (or not share) food that shaped out history. First of all, did you know that almost nothing we consider "natural food" is actually natural? Man had played around with almost every single seed and plant under the sun, everything has been re-arranged one way or the another and only certain mushrooms, berries, nuts and perhaps sea food could be considered still "natural" as we found them.
In this very interesting and informative book, Standage walks us trough the history starting with first known facts about humans changing from hunters and food gatherers to farmers. Once the agriculture took over, first civilisations started as well and with them division between ruling classes and those serving them. In hunting days there was no private property and food was shared - with first villages and cities, the one who provided the most food for feasts could eventually collect followers and gain influence that turned into real power. Than the people started to use food as currency and to sacrifice offerings to bloodthirsty Gods - in the Mesopotamian version of Flood story, when Utnapishtim emerges from his ark and burns the very first post-apocalyptic sacrifice, Gods crowd around the smoke like flies because they didn't have any divine offerings for a long time (they sound like vampires to me). With focus shifting toward agriculture, saved collections and surpluses of food (that could be used for business, taxes and lot of other ways that have nothing to do with cooking) created wealthy classes, later exotic spices came in fashion, spreading the news about other parts of the world so we got first international travellers who brought expensive items from Asia and Middle East and starting from here we got discoveries of new civilisations, science, art and voilà occasional new continent. Which than provided plants previously unknown in Old World, like Corn, Tomato and Potatoes - in the meantime they became so ubiquitous that now we can't even imagine how did people ever lived without these, but lived they did and apparently it took quite a lot of clever advertising and convincing that people eventually & unwillingly accepted them as food (specially Potatoes that reminded everybody on Leper's hands, imagine that!). With time food became one of the main facts behind the powers - wars depended on food provisions and once scientists discovered how to store large quantities into canned food, everything changed and armies could move fast without having horse carriages lagging somewhere behind. And finally, the guy who invented chemical fertiliser (Fritz Haber) and won Nobel prize for it, used his knowledge to create first chemical weapons causing around 5 000 deaths in WW1 (his wife committed suicide after that). The story goes on into present time, explaining how artificial seeds, mixed and genetically re-designed were used with great effects in places like India and China that eventually not only stopped importing food but started to explore it. Did you know that on a remote island close to the North Pole, there is a Seed Bank where hidden under many tunnels and doors there are around twobillion seeds preserved for posterity and its called Svalbard Global Seed Vault - its a work in progress and it will be the world's largest seed bank.
It bothered me such a long time that all my visits to Barcelona were spent running around for toothpaste or working shoes, always being late, stressed, occupied with one thing or the other (I even remember spending night in Barcelona and the whole ship being under quarantine, because a passenger was potentially infectiously sick) but very rarely I actually had proper time to simply just relax and take a breath or do something for my own soul, like a visit to museum. I know every bookshop, CD place and where to buy chocolate soap, where to send postcards from - I am quite familiar with life in Barcelona - but that darn museum somehow never happened and I went there twice, twice climbed the stairs all the way up to the hill just to find doors closed on Mondays. Well, this time I was firmly determined it is now or never. Again, I did had other things to do (working clothes, toiletries, all sorts of necessary last-minute preparations and shopping) but decided it is museum first. And guess what, it was a glorious day and the palace looked like a dream - barbarian that I am, I enjoyed view at the palace more than the art inside.
Not that anything was wrong with art, of course, but getting up that hill and soaking in the beauty of the palace, waterfalls and fountains was far more exciting than actually entering the museum, because after all, I have been in countless museums so far in my life and experience is more or less very much the same - I roam from room to room, thrilled at first, than at certain point I suddenly remember that I actually don't care so much for religious art, than the overabundance of saints and virgins start to bore me and at the end my concentration wonders towards the windows, WC, chairs and where is the exit, how to get out of here. However, I must admit that I had actually spent much more time inside of this museum than usually - and realised that with surprise - so yes, it was definitely worth it and I enjoyed it more than I expected.
The entrance and the first part if all about Romanesque Art, works from ancient rural churches of this region and to my eyes it looked very rough-hewn, almost primitive and in a way very human, this was still earthy, simple art that spoke to illiterate peasants who had to recognise saints and their martyrdom's. I have seen something like this long ago in St.Petersburg, where ancient Icons served the same purpose, they seemed almost like cartoons with pictures representing how the saints were cooked, boiled and tortured for people who couldn't read and had to recognise them. Since I consider myself a heathen and barbarian, I had actually spend quite a lot of time looking at this, feeling very medieval & magical and it was Avalon & Camelot all over again. Gothic Art Collection started fine but the sheer amount of it was overwhelming and this is where I started to feel suffocation, all those altarpieces, triptychs and saints made me dizzy. Very strange sculpture representing "Head of Christ" was the most unusual and unexpected work of art here, usually it was St. John the Baptist who got this treatment. Renaissance and Baroque Art Collection was more of the same - I actually recognised El Greco and Tintoretto so obviously I'm not such ignorant as I think - but again saints and virgins hanging from every chandelier. I seriously started to enjoy finally with several wings that presented beautiful private collections that wealthy citizens left to museum posthumously - here I saw Goya, Tizian, Rubens, some unexpected Dutch and Flemish artists, Canaletto, even Dali and Picasso. Second floor was actually far more interesting because this was 19th century art collection that for some reason appealed to me much more, among paintings where was also stylish furniture (designed by Gaudi!), old black & white photo portraits, all sort of interesting posters, drawings, excellent exhibition - next time I will go straight to the second floor and simply spend an afternoon there admiring this area. I understand that religious art is historically very important and its all fine but seriously there is just so many virgins, baby Jesus and saints I can take at once. This is why portraits, panoramas and everything else gets my attention much more than another martyrdom. I am not alone in this because quite a few visitors felt restless when faced with such a huge collection of religious art and deep inside I felt sorry that these objects - once venerated and taken seriously life affirming - are now something that people don't even have interest to look at. However, I had a blast and spend the whole afternoon in there, just religious collection was not my thing but 19th century was excellent and unforgettable.
When in late 1980s Chanel nr.5 advertisement resurrected "My Baby Just Cares for Me" and made it unexpected world smash hit, no one was more surprised than Nina Simone herself. Riding high on hit charts along with such unlikely neighbors as Depeche Mode, Eurhytmics, Wham and U2, this cute little cocktail lounge novelty number single-handledly managed to overshadow all the hits and decades behind veteran artist who lived her autumn years in European self-exile. Song itself didn't bring financial gain to singer who sold all the rights of original recording way back in 1958. but it did created such immense buzz that new, hip and young audiences flocked to her sold-out concerts, flattering veteran singer with attention she did not have in decades. This late success was another example that if you stick out long enough, the time might just swing back to your direction and the road from a star to has-been to star again is all very possible. Naturally, this particular song might left wrong impression on kids that Simone was some cutesy jazzy songbird or nightclub entertainer where in fact she was a artist par excellence but this was just one of the many ironies of her life.
New documentary of Nina Simone's life "What happened, Miss Simone?"is a brilliant, though harrowing experience. It is truly one of the best documentaries I have ever seen in my life and unpleasant as it was, it was impossible not to watch with feverish concentration. The frame itself is nothing new - concert performances combined with old interviews by Simone herself, testimonies from her family, longtime friends, fans and supporters. What emerges from all this skillful mosaic and patchwork is the portrait of person who at certain point in history managed to have been in the eye of the storm, right in the middle of most important historical moment in recent history - and how she barely stayed alive. That documentary works as the most exciting historical psychological thriller/drama is tribute to its subject and her cult followers who supported her trough the thick and thin, although woman was not just charismatic musician but darn frightening and menacing personality.
Look back to childhood spent in piano lessons while other kids played with toys, this little black girl and her Bach right in the middle of North Carolina where everybody must have thinking she was a freak. Subsequent rejection from Curtis Institute where Simone applied with dreams of becoming first female black classical pianist in US and her bitter resentment towards what she perceived as white racists everywhere - ironically it was white patrons back home who financed her piano lessons and white audiences who will always support her concerts later in life - turn to nightclub jazz music out of pure financial necessity, where she added a touch of Bach to pop standards and starting with late 1950s became respected, unique black artist who created quite extraordinary, semi-classical music benchmark. With a young family and riding on the top of respected success, Simone was still not happy because deep inside she felt pop music frivolous, even though it helped her to reach and command the stage of Carnegie Hall - commercial aspects of pop business, touring, photo shots and autographs, she never accepted this as her life and dissatisfaction with all of these created inner demons that eventually found an outlet in Civil Rights movement during mid-1960s where Simone became one of the publicly most outspoken black celebrities. Suddenly all her fire, passion and heart found a reason in this fight for human rights and she threw herself into it with such conviction and passion that there was absolutely no place for any compromise - instead of resting on laurels of comfortable life as classy pop musician, she became fierce tigress who sang "Mississippi Goddam", "Old Jim Crow", "Strange Fruit", "Four Women", "I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free", "Why? (The King Of Love Is Dead)" and most importantly "To Be Young, Gifted and Black". If you think that 1960s Soul music affirmed black power and self confidence, look no further. Aretha might demanded R-E-S-P-E-C-T but Nina Simone got it in spades.
At certain point it all got little bit out of control: decline of the Civil Rights movement, lots of its leaders killed, Simone herself decidedly alienating white audiences (and effectively killing her US career) with such uncompromising anti-white concert rants that some of them are still chilling to watch, decades later: this is not a joke, woman was actually preaching to her black audience to get out, burn the white houses and kill the white people. You watch in disbelief but its all there. Her family life spiralling into abusive pattern of beatings and violence (that might have been provoked, invited and welcomed) Simone left it all behind - husband, daughter, career, politics and music - for a escape into motherland Africa where Liberia proved to be comforting nest for a while, but life necessities forced her to return to sing for her supper eventually, this time in Europe. Interestingly why Europe, because documentary not goes into the subject but its clear that Simone was blacklisted at home. And message songs became replaced with Disco. This is where the story turns sour: with most of the Civil Rights front men either killed or arrested, once fierce lioness is playing low paid gigs in some dingy corners and upon insistence of attentive friends and well-wishers is heavily sedated with medicine that treats her bi-polar disorder and manic depression - at the same time, it sedates her and dulls her artistic creativity. Kill the madness and the genius is nowhere to be found. Even her daughter, visiting from US is shocked to find previously fierce and domineering mother with a facial tics and signs of falling by the seams.
"My Baby Just Cares for Me" came in the right moment. It created new interest in almost-forgotten Simone who continued to sell out her concerts for the rest of her life and enabled her to live comfortably in South of France. Strong, powerful, fierce, uncompromising, regal, majestic, passionate, frighteningly intense but at the same time clearly self-aware and bullshit-free, Nina Simone is not just ever-inspiring music artist but curiously charismatic personality who still fascinates years after her death. This documentary was so darn good that I might just watch it again now.
After well-deserved vacation (during which I decidedly avoided any kind of physical activity and refused to even convince myself into anything that I 'have to do" - this is my time to relax, sleep and fill my batteries) the time has come to move on. My next stop is Barcelona from where I will sail into some of the most exciting and prettiest places around The Mediterranean Sea. At this point, dear reader, yours truly has been travelling so much that there is hardly a spot left untouched & unvisited, luckily Europe is such magnificent place that there are always other different things to explore - no matter how many times I had visited these cities, there is always something I forgot to see. In fact, it just makes me more aware of other possibilities. For example, I had visited Barcelona a hundred times but never managed to check out The Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya (well, I did climbed the darn stairs at least, to find the museum closed on Mondays) and so far never took The Montjuïc Cable Car so there is always something else to enjoy. Sometimes its not about famous tourist attractions but about simply having a coffee in a quiet corner and soaking the atmosphere in. Often I have enough of living & working in the same confined space so escape into anonymity of some labyrinth is just wonderful way of relaxing and forgetting about constant work. And this time I seriously hope that I will have opportunity to see that strange, ancient figurine in Malta (so called "Sleeping lady" that nobody knows anything about since her identity has been long forgotten).
As usual, had to pack some books for just in case although my e-reader is packed with thousand titles and after I piled up potential books into several mountains around me (unfortunately I have to select them not only by preferences, readability and interests but also had to remember such mundane facts as editions - nothing too heavy, clumsy or hardback) eventually decided that unread pile was unread because it didn't appeal to me and these four will do just nicely. It is symbolical anyway + we always have libraries on the ships, I just need something from my own collection but not another heavy piece of tractor in my luggage that I always suffer around with. Not to mention that I know every bookshop around the world already and regularly checking them out. (I am incapable of passing by the bookshop without poking my head in it, even if its all in foreign language, I still enjoy and understand the titles.)
Contrary to what I expected, I am not depressed about going back to the ship but actually very excited to travel again. My Croatian friends here tease me that I will never stop travelling and that even though I am constantly talking about new start on land, I would probably die of boredom if I am seriously settled in daily routine somewhere. Of course I love travelling and waking up in different place every morning, its the 16-hours daily grind that I dislike. Than again, I am forced to walk, explore the real life and stay away from Internet (I use it only occasionally in a port, once a week) so maybe that's not a bad thing. Often I see our Asian crew googling and obsessively hanging above their gadgets in every single port outside, completely unaware of where they are, not even noticing the blue sky above them or stunning historical architecture around them, really it makes you wonder what is the point of travelling the world but not seeing any of it because of the Internet. I am sure family & friends back home could live quite nicely without a chat about food and the weather - most of this connections, emotionally satisfying as they might be, are just superficial anyway. My friends accepted long time ago that once I am away, I am far away and besides occasional letter and contact, there is no point of reciting the daily menu just for the sake of it.
I was little sad to leave my animal friends behind and naturally wonder will they survive all the dangerous cars driving so recklessly around the countryside but of course they will be in good hands, I can only hope they will survive and remember me next time around when I'm back sometime in February.
Sometimes is actually good to approach movie without any previous knowledge or concept what is all about: it gives you a chance to dive head on into something as gripping and compulsive watching as "Gone Girl" without being influenced by other opinions.
It is a slightly overlong psychological thriller that holds your attention to the end and honestly it has so many twists and turns that you might get vertigo while trying to figure it out and connect all the dots. Unexpectedly it gives a intriguing part to previously lightweight Ben Affleck as husband who report his wife missing and one of the pleasures of the movie is that it has no particularly good hero, almost everybody here is driven by personal ambition, greed and all sorts of vices. However, what I found the most fascinating is the way media is described here as very dangerous tool in shaping public opinion - everybody from journalists to brainwashed TV audiences is easily led by their dead serious assumptions, opinions and conclusions that naturally are changing from day to day. You can be sacrificial lamb and monster one day, just to be hailed as hero the very next morning. It might seems almost like a parody if you don't stop to think that this is the way people actually behave today in our time of Internet discussions and debates based on reading only titles and quick conclusions that have nothing to do with reality or even understanding what truth might be hidden between the lines. Fascinating.
Soundtrack for TV show that was of such high quality and so unusual that recording company eventually decided to preserve it on LP album released several years later. It is far removed from what we usually expect from TV show - this is not a glitzy family entertainment or even one of those clumsy early rock attempts by local stars but a full-blown Prog-Rock extravaganza (long on guitar solos and instrumentals) with members of spectacular band Korni Grupa (fronted by talented composer Kornelije Kovač) rocking for all their worth at the first bloom of their youth and enthusiasm. The most unusual is the subject, lyrical poem by poet Branko Čopić that seriously digs into such heavy themes as WW2 and 1941 (hence the title of the album) and lifts the whole project into sphere of almost Rock opera (oratorio?) with its ideas of heroic deaths and such.
The subject is not really so unusual if you understand a social contest - for a country that was completely rebuilt from ruins, Yugoslavia continued with obsessive cult of WW2 for decades, with movies, media and even music festivals focused on this chapter of history. It was a combination of what government encouraged and audience of millions accepted as politically correct. I am definitely not the only one who grew up on diet of WW2 movies with partisans fighting against bad guys and was proudly reciting war poems in the school along with all the other kids. It all sounds vaguely North Korean now, but for us who were there it was a way of life and God help you if you dared to criticise this tunnel vision. (I once blurted out loudly in my school class that it bores me and was immediately marked down as rebellious and subversive 7 year old. This was not even funny, my parents were immediately called in the school and dark cloud followed my documentation for years just to raise again when I arrived to serve mandatory army service more than a decade later). Whole generations lived in this frame of mind and even today there are people still repeating doctrine placed in their minds back than.
That such young Rock lions as Korni Grupa accepted this gig symbolises how seriously the establishment still treated the subject: in order to be accepted, even this long-haired rebels had to play the game. To be honest, guys did their job first-rate: they played with virtuosity, music is fascinating and two sides of LP consist of two long jam sessions that flow in seamless continuation. Excellent young, fierce Dado Topić handled the main vocals and as a special guest guys invited Josipa Lisac to sing the female part of the poem, so we have two of than best rock vocals in one album. It is still fascinating and strangely enough although this was supposed to be just one-off (band had far bigger projects and hit singles) this is the only piece of their music that I occasionally return, for sheer pleasure of listening all-star line up.
Since I always loved Bessie Smith and recently saw her biopic, it was just natural that I will eventually read this interesting book that came my way and turned quite a treat.
This is not a place to find details from Bessie's life - if you want a definitive biography, it was written long ago by Chris Albertson who even updated it recently and this is last word on a subject, as he interviewed people who are no longer alive and who knew the Empress personally. What Michelle R. Scott did here - and she did it masterfully - she created something along the line of Daphne Duvall and her unforgettable book "Black Pearls" that was all about the world in which these 1920s Blues singers lived. Scott completely focuses on American south (particularly area of Chattanooga) around turn of the century and in great detail describes life conditions of black population, how did they lived, what options in life they had, what exactly was the life of washerwoman (Bessie's mother) like, what was the popular music of the day and how it all influenced young woman who started as a street singer and eventually became highest paid entertainer of her time.
To be honest, Bessie is mentioned almost as afterthought - she is present and we get details about her family movements, how they changed the addresses constantly, jobs they did and where exactly Bessie started professionally - but reader can tell author's heart was elsewhere and she wanted to paint greater picture instead. Scott truly enjoys when describing life of black population of now long-lost world the way it was back in the day, at times it feels almost like archaeological work because she really digs in old documents and newspapers, starting with aftermath of Civil War and than explaining how urban migration came along, what was the role of the church in this new society, Ku Klux Clan and hostility towards this newcomers, minstrelsy and new music that came along... Bessie Smith is discussed but more in light of what her early life must have been and what probably shaped her well-known personality. Its all very well written with a hint of all sorts of intelligent perception and understanding of life of poor black woman from the bottom of society in those frankly, dangerous times. Contrary to readers who expected more of Bessie, I found the book absolutely fascinating because it covers overview of the whole society. Brilliant. This is re-reading literature for sure.
"The durability of a female performer most generally depends on her nerve and her constitution."
Long-planned dream project of director who previously dazzled with "Black Swan" sinks here under the sheer ambition and though it seems its special effects and bombastic visual style brought large audiences all over the world, at certain point you can't help but wonder what happened and how the movie with such cast just stumbles sideways into quite ridiculous direction.
Because Biblical story of Noah and his family escaping total destruction is basically very vague, director and script writer Ari Handel came with their own embellishments that combine all sorts of moralistic/religious/ecological questions. We understand that they wanted to cover a lot of different issues but come on, you start to squirm and wonder will this movie ever finish. It ends as a huge embarrassment for Russell Crowe and even talents of Emma Watson and Anthony Hopkins are wasted in this overlong, overblown catastrophe extravaganza.
Wow, that was a super-tight action/history thriller that covers quite a lot of different questions (and makes a viewer aware how ignorant we are about recent history). It got brilliant reviews that intrigued me so I decided to check it out although at first it does not appear as something that I would normally go for (having first-hand experience with army and wars, I never watch war movies).
It all happens during 24 hours in Belfast where two opposite fractions tear the city apart - there is a catholic and protestant Belfast clearly divided by line as any war zone and bunch of young British soldiers placed right in the middle to support what is meant to be routine search for hidden weapons. Soldiers are all young, fresh-faced and basically innocent guys who could be anybody's brothers and sons, so to see them thrown in such a dangerous situation is truly painful to watch and I got all sorts of flashes from my own experiences during the movie. That this is all based on real historical facts - early 1970s Belfast was definitely not a place to be - makes the whole thing even more breath-taking. The tight direction and excellent acting turns this all into quite unforgettable experience, as eventually story becomes so gripping, intense and realistic that you start feeling as hunted and disoriented as the main character (brilliant Jack O'Connell). What in other hands could have been just another cliché action movie turns out to be first-class dark drama.
Huge outpourings of grief that Brits showed following recent death of Cilla Black signalled not only departure of beloved TV entertainer but that great 1960s survivors are fewer and fewer. Since Black had achieved huge success as TV host (and it went on for decades) younger audience was probably not even aware that toothy, familiar face once was one of the most important names in pop music, in fact although Black is often boxed together with Dusty Springfield, Sandie Shaw, Lulu, Helen Shapiro and Petula Clark as one of the British golden girls of 1960s, her chart success overshadow all of them by far. This 3 CD retrospective sets the record straight and shows there is more to Black than her comedy/talk shows, its quite irresistible slice of 1960s pop. It is almost as discovering that your grandmother was once cool chick.
Personally I think that none of them came even close to Springfield, but than again when Springfield recorded her masterpiece "Dusty in Memphis" who had best-selling album but Black who in the meantime charmed the socks off the TV audiences and charted hit after hit. Not that she was any particularly great singer, it was a distinctive sound but her voice was very strident and occasionally even shrill in the beginning, strangely enough it became part of her appeal and actually her most interesting recordings are singles made before she toned down that particular attack.
Girl had a extremely good luck to have been associated with certain mega-successful foursome from Liverpool who were loyal supporters and helped their old pal every step of the way. Other singers might have singing their covers but she actually got original songs written for her by The Beatles and Paul McCartney played on her demos. Two discs here cover all huge hits and selected album tracks, but most interesting is disc three with unreleased and demo tracks that provides hugely interesting peek at 1960s Merseybeat when Black was still one of the many enthusiastic, wild young faces from Liverpool. Her very beginnings (see "Love of the loved", "Shotgun") were fascinating, trashy, loud and unforgettable - once show biz beckoned, Black took to TV like her natural environment and surpassed all the competition with longevity of second career that was based on humour, sharp wit and natural-born talent for entertainment (its impossible not to like her TV appearances, she truly was incredibly charming and funny lady). In a way, she could be compared to Dinah Shore who was music star before she moved on to TV shows that eclipsed memories of the earlier chapter. Though she continued to record decades after period covered here, Black knew and understood that people will remember her for her TV work and recently even answered this question in a show celebrating 50 years of her success. It might be just a footnote in a pop history now, but its a fascinating one. She led a full life and is remembered as very likable girl-next-door who managed remarkably long career, even though she switched the gears at certain point and moved to completely another sphere.
One of the very first records I bought as a kid was this double LP compilation of all Eurovision winners from its beginnings in 1956 to than present 1981. It was a great joy for little me and I loved it dearly, kitch and all, probably also because it was my window to different sounds of various countries and very first introduction to such distant languages as Dutch or Danish that our local radio never played otherwise - in those pre-Internet days we could often hear French or Italian or even occasional German song but this LP opened my eyes to other places and unconsciously made me daydream about those countries. Naturally Eurovision was always from the start a family entertainment TV show so music presented here was hardly something groundbreaking, it was more or less always safe and mainstream but thanks to this occasion, audience trough the whole Europe heard something different. Even now after all these years I like the idea (if not necessary music itself) that different cultures meet here in this melting pot and compete for attention - naturally times have changed and its all reflected in festival itself, where at first it was all very tame and sophisticated, it eventually turned into gimmicks and circus but that is the nature of show business. I don't always have chance to actually follow Eurovision because most of the time I am travelling (last time I watched it was in 2013) but it occurred to me that I can actually check it all on Internet - there are serious fans and specialists who really invest lots of time & energy to list every detail, song and gossip that happened during last 59 years and since I always loved first start of it, I decided to check the early years and what else was there, what actually didn't win but perhaps should. My favourites were always songs that never won and I clearly remember being upset about it, seems that melody or singing was most of the time overshadowed by bombastic performance, dance or something else.
1956:
Very first Eurovision was organised in Lugano, Switzerland and nobody expected it will became such institution - only seven countries participated, voting was secret and each country had two songs. Contrary to what I expected, it wasn't all brilliant and sophisticated, most of the songs were actually very bland pop of the day. The only exception was Italian "Aprite le finestre" which was a very famous winner of prestigious San Remo festival and its actually wonderfully happy little ditty that was huge hit in its homeland. I am naturally familiar with majestic Swiss winner "Refrain"but now during my research I have discovered that Germany had something completely unusual, it was actually true Rock & Roll song (completely unexpected for festival like this and for Germany) called "So geht das jede Nacht" and this comes as a huge surprise, if this kind of song have won it would have changed the complete nature of Eurovision festival because focus would be on more upbeat, dance music instead of huge, orchestrated ballads.
1957:
At this time nobody still came with rule that next Eurovision should be organised in winner's country - it was still relatively small TV show with only ten participants. So festival was held in Frankfurt. Previous winner Lys Assia participated again but the winner came from Netherlands and it was majestic Corry Brokken with a beautiful ballad that was my very first introduction to Dutch language. Most of the music was very generic and the only one worth mention was another San Remo winner and Italian entry, "Corde della mia chitarra" that didn't go very far (was placed somewhere in the middle) but made splash everywhere where this type of sentimental ballads was played.
1958:
First true, proper Eurovision festival - organised in a last year's winner country, participants performed in their own languages, each country could compete with only one song. (However, German language was heard from Germany, Austria and Switzerland) UK had skipped this one, so no English language this time at all, it was truly continental affair. France won with relatively forgettable little ballad, very first winner Lys Assia followed on second place with some galloping gimmicky ditty about waiter "Giorgio", last year's winner Corry Brokken returned with a song that was as good as her previous entry but all the eyes and ears were deservedly focused on Italy and brilliant Domenico Modugno who didn't win although his song "Volare" became the biggest hit of the year, won two Grammy awards in USA (the only foreign song ever to win this award) and actually became hit nr.1 on Billboard top charts. Since that song is already well known, for me personally the biggest discovery was Sweden (first time ever on Eurovision) with sweet Alice Babs (otherwise known as Jazz singer) crooning lullaby about the little star, dressed up in national folk costume. It really does sound like some melody from a Disney movie. With five interesting songs (between ten contenders) this was actually first truly strong Eurovision.
1959:
Glitz and glamour in Cannes. There was something in the air because this year music was decidedly upbeat and happy - the winner was Dutch swing "Een beetje"which is actually sweet little ditty but there were other songs forgotten now, most of them rightly so like UK representatives who chirped "Sing, Little Birdie"and even though I understand it was different time, I still cringe when I hear that one. Domenico Modugno returned again and his "Ciao, ciao bambina" was another smash hit that Eurovision completely ignored (it makes you wonder what was wrong with this jury). My personal favorite from this year was again Sweden with Brita Borg singing what is basically a Tango, this girl really had unusual voice and for me she was the most memorable performer that year.
1960:
Last year's winner declined to host Eurovision so soon (they won in 1957 and 1959) so honor fell on nr.2 which was UK - and how convenient, they were second again this time. I was never convinced with this year's winner (France with ridiculously happy children's song "Tom Pillibi" by sunny Jacqueline Boyer who projected such squeaky clean innocence that it had to be heard to believe) but actually liked three other contestants much better. My own favorites from this particular year were UK ("Looking High, High, High"that sounds as perfect song to whistle when you do something like shoe polishing or window cleaning), Sweden (ballsy swing with attitude "Alla andra får varann") and Austria ("Du hast mich so fasziniert", which was quite irresistible romantic ballad that to my ears sounds like something that The Platters would record). And don't forget Italy with now-classic "Romantica", honestly year by year Italians were sending these great songs that everybody loved but for some reason they were always humiliated by Eurovision, WTF?
1961:
Now the winners became almost predictable since during last few years it was Netherlands and France that always got the most votes (Luxembourg won this time so it was almost the same). Why is it that French chanson impressed listeners across the whole Europe so much? I have absolutely nothing against wonderful French music and in fact love it very much, but when you check other contestants it is clear there were others equally interesting: my own personal favorite was Finland with truly beautiful ballad "Valoa ikkunassa"that was as sophisticated as anything coming from Paris. Switzerland had very pretty chanson "Nous aurons demain"and Norway absolutely lovely "Sommer i Palma"with such a haunting refrain that it really makes you wonder why the winner was France again. UK sent their own version of The Everly Brothers and guess what, they were second again (it must have been very frustrating for this country - hence, they started to poke fun at Eurovision as something not really important). Italy naturally went ignored again, although "Al di là" became international hit in many cover versions. The veteran lady who originally sang "Lili Marlene" (Lale Andersen) also decided to compete for Germany and she was not just a little long in the tooth (56) but more importantly, awfully out of tune. Spain and Yugoslavia debuted on Eurovision, first with some scarf waving lady who looked as parody of everything we associate with Spain, second with incredibly demure and boring girl who was actually unknown even at home (Ljiljana Petrović) so why was she chosen I have no idea because we had our very own big stars with far more charisma, to me she was like a little orphan girl inviting pity, not something you want to impress the world with.
1962:
OK I admit that French singer Isabelle Aubret was very pretty and delicate and lovely to look at, but none of this can convince me that this was the best song of the year, in fact since French chanson became so ubiquitous in early years of Eurovision I start to get a little bored with it. Just check out contestants from Norway (absolutely wonderful Inger Jacobsen who is one of my all-time favorite Eurovision performers), Demark (lovely operatic lullaby by Ellen Winther that was very pretty indeed) or Germany (incredibly contagious little country song by Conny Froboess) so it is clear there were other countries and other sounds that maybe deserved more attention than France. Apparently there was a power failure during performance by duo De Spelbrekers from Netherlands so they somehow ended up without a single vote, although their song was actually wonderful. Italy was ignored again (no less than Claudio Villa) and Yugoslavia had actually sent a real star (Lola Novaković) with a proper song so they deservedly got respectable 4th place - mysteriously , this beautiful song was never released as a single or album track, seems that recording company simply didn't understand what they had.
1963:
This was first year that I actually love the winner and think it was the best song of the year, although there was really a serious competition - Denmark's husband and wife duo Grethe & Jørgen Ingmann (kind of local Les Paul & Mary Ford) brought home award for the very first time for this country and deservedly so, because their lilting waltz "Dansevise" was and still is one of the prettiest songs this TV festival ever had. For me and for many listeners this was also the first time we heard Danish language. If you look closely at ceremony itself, audience is hardly ever visible so we have strange impression that it was all filmed in front of studio cameras on playback but organizers in London claim it wasn't so. Besides the winner, my other favorites were Italy (jazzy "Uno per tutte" that later became local evergreen and any American swinger would liked that one), France with stunningly simple, poetic and beautiful chanson "Elle était si jolie" that has seen many covers since and two entries by Switzerland and Luxembourg that used not local artists but imported stars: first country had almost-winner Esther Ofarim (lovely) and second the Greek songbird Nana Mouskouri (even more lovely) who used this performance as a stepping stone for even bigger success. There were other stars involved - Swedish Monica Zetterlund was humiliated with zero votes and Françoise Hardy represented Monaco, I actually liked Austrian singer (also imported star) and our own Croatian Vice Vukov representing Yugoslavia was bravely fighting trough some dreadfully boring ballad - clearly, local composers took this as a serious state dinner instead of entertainment.
1964:
This was when Italy finally and deservedly won after all these years of humiliation - I am not completely sure that Gigliola Cinquetti was really so much better than all the people who preceded her, after all they were all winners of San Remo and all these songs were brilliant, however she had smashed, killed and burn the audience in Copenhagen who adored her and gave her such ovation that she is the only performer ever who was allowed to take a second bow after her song. The rest was forgettable - nobody cared for our singer from Yugoslavia (Sabahudin Kurt) who got zero points - except Austrian singer Udo Jürgens who was actually very good and locals loved him so much that they continued to send him until he won. Now that's a conviction!
1965:
No wonder Luxembourg won with explosive "Poupée de cire, poupée de son" because it was so different from anything else on Eurovision - it was a strong, booming, happy pop song with girl-group sound (and a highly suspicious, clever lyrics that obviously European audience didn't really understand) that stood in a contrast with usual weeping ballads around here. Though I must say that I truly liked Italy (Bobby Solo doing his best Elvis imitation with "Se piangi, se ridi" which is a classic now, like everything else coming from Italian music scene), Netherlands (dramatic Conny van den Bos), Ireland (this country debut with likable Butch Moore), France (contagious ditty by Guy Mardel) and even UK was not bad with Kathy Kirby going as far as second place with her energetic entry (and she looked good, if that matters). Nobody listens to me so my own favorites were completely ignored - Birgit Brüel from Denmark had a very unusual, haunting song and Austria had sent Udo Jürgens again with song even better than last time. He does sound very aristocratic and sophisticated, it kind of starts like gospel/symphonic and its very impressive song.
1966:
Udo Jürgens finally smashed here with "Merci, Chérie" and it went on to became Eurovision classic though I must say this year really had some good and interesting performers, so as much as I like aristocratic Jürgens he was just one of the many in the crowd here. First, Italy sent wonderful Mr.Volare Domenico Modugno who won San Remo at home and got zero points here. Same for Monaco representative which was no other than our own Croatian Tereza Kesovija, good enough for Grace Kelly but got zero points here. I always liked French singer Michèle Torr and her song got stuck at low place as well. Yugoslavia's singer Berta Ambrož was not bad at all (in fact, her song inspired certain Spanish composers for their own entry few years down the line), Dutch singer Milly Scott (first black woman ever on Eurovision) had really entertaining sing-and-dance star spot, UK singer wore a kilt and Raphael from Spain pulled all the stops with his fierce attack (you just expect him to burst into flamenco any moment). However, the best of all was the lady from Norway called Åse Kleveland who was so charismatic that you can't stop watching her - not only she played guitar and wore pants but her song was truly haunting and very, very effective (reminds me a little bit on Denmark's "Dansevise") - she starts solo with guitar and than slowly big orchestra joins her, its truly a surprise and discovery that inspired me to write this essay. Not that she was ignored (she was in third place finally) but I really believe she was by far most interesting singer and her song was really awesome.
1967:
UK finally won after a decade of trying and for better or worse "Puppet on a String" showed what Eurovision is all about - gimmicky novelty songs, easy to remember and irritating, infantile refrain hunting us in our nightmares. Not that anybody had ever tried something like this but it seriously shifted focus of the whole festival from melancholic chanson to oompah-pah that audience lapped up. Just in case you wonder was there anybody else worth mention besides Sandie Shaw (who got huge record sales and lost credibility simultaneously) Luxembourg had sweet and young Vicky Leandros with a song that became classic, Portugal had amazing singer Eduardo Nascimento who roared like a lion with truly magnificent voice, Swedish singer Östen Warnerbring had no gimmicks and only a beautiful, dramatic ballad and best of all was Belgium with charismatic Louis Neefs having fun with unforgettable "Ik heb zorgen" that is impossible not to like. Worth mention is also France where Minouche Barelli and Serge Gainsbourg ridiculed the whole festival and were incredibly cool in process.
1968:
One of the most exciting Eurovision voting ever resulted with Massiel from Spain winning with just one vote over UK's Cliff Richard who seemed willing to stand on top of his head just in order to win, guy was so eager that its embarrassing to watch. If you ask me, both are forgettable novelty gimmicks when compared to some other contestants. First, there was Portugal with wonderfully breezy song about summer by Carlos Mendes that actually sounds excellent even today. Classic Euro-ballads were represented by Austria and Karel Gott with song composed by no other than Udo Jürgens so you know this was a classy affair. In hands of Tom Jones or such, this could have been world smash. Switzerland had excellent singer from Italy Gianni Mascolo who in my opinion had one of the best voices ever on Eurovision and though many commented on his unorthodox looks for me this was no important at all, its all about music after all (or is it?). Italy again failed to get attention although they had legendary Sergio Endrigo who simply might have been too good for this circus. Irish singer Pat McGuigan had such a beautiful, smooth voice that he sounded like a dream. Our own Croatian group Dubrovački trubaduri performing in medieval costumes had one of the prettiest, happiest songs that ever graced Eurovision stage (and I have met lots of foreigners who still remember this performance and loved it) but the best of all was Sweden with ultra cool Claes-Göran Hederström and his swaggering hipster song "It's beginning to look like love, damn it" that in my eyes by far overshadows both Spain and UK, damn it. I mean, guy was standing there in front of audience of 200 millions and had such guts & balls & posture that you can't help but admire him, although you might suspect he would probably steal your girlfriend.
1969:
The most legendary year - besides me being born and men finally landing in the Moon - that signaled end of swinging 1960s and goodbye to all that. And just to finish a decade with a Boom Bang-a-Bang this time there was a unexpected tie, not only between two but four winners and what to do, they were all awarded with medals. I bet nobody expected that! We all know the winners by now, though for me only wonderful Frida Boccara representing France was a true winner, her semi-classical piece is still heart-breakingly awesome mother of all chansons ever performed at this festival and its haunting melody & poetry works equally all around the world above any language barrier. It looks like all the attention was focused on girls, though guys were not half bad - I checked the rest of the competition and actually quite liked singers from Sweden (Tommy Körberg) and Belgium ( charismatic Louis Neefs again) not to mention few other ladies from Germany (our old friend Siw Malmkvist that sang for Sweden earlier), Switzerland (sunny Paola Del Medico), Norway (ridiculously catchy Kirsti Sparboe), Portugal (theatrical Simone de Oliveira who sounds as she went into the same school with our own Tereza Kesovija) and Italy (Iva Zanicchi with a song that mixes up Italian and German). Yugoslavia have to be mentioned only because somebody decided to follow last year memorably happy and catchy entry with something to awful and embarrassing that I cringe every time I see Ivan & 4M awkwardly singing greetings in different languages. And this is from a guy who was our very renowned lyrics writer. Bad idea.
1970:
Austria, Finland, Norway, Portugal and Sweden boycotted this one so Eurovision reputation suddenly experienced serious blow (it was all about previous year confusion about four winners) and as I always liked Swedish performers, this is disappointing. Ireland won for the very first time with some schoolgirl who basically emulated Italian Gigliola Cinquetti virginal innocence from a few years ago and as much as Eurovision family audiences loved this kind of squeaky clean, inoffensive waifs I always found them contrived and insincere. Not that I cared much for second-placed UK with another annoying virgin Mary Hopkin or Yugoslavian entry (Eva Sršen with a song that even today in Slovenia they make fun with wordplay - if you change a few letters, its easy to change the title from "Come, I'll Give You a Flower" to "Come, I'll Give You Again"). If you ask me, far more interesting entries were from guys - Italian Gianni Morandi had excellent song that became a pop classic (it always happens with their entries), French Guy Bonnet with unforgettable, haunting piano ballad or Spanish Julio Iglesias who used this audience of millions to start his incredibly successful career. Even Germany had quite interesting, ballsy girl singer Katja Ebstein who at least went for soul-pop instead of Irish lullabies. Best of all was Dutch entry with trio of beautiful, Supremes-like girls called Hearts of Soul whose song was not just in my opinion the best Dutch Eurovision song ever but real discovery for me that inspired me to dig trough all these years, searching for also-runners who might have been interesting.
