so the dust angel dragged herself from the dust last night and went to a singer song writer evening in town to present two new songs...solo. with the three kids in tow. my band was called The Dust Angels, so i am, obviously, the singular thereof. the angel part is not any deluded reference to my kind self, you understand. dust on the other hand, is entirely applicable.
it was a great evening, with some wonderful performances from all sorts of people in our backwater town. magere the rasta man was there, from Warriors band, and sang a sweet song called "Scandanavian Girl". the title sent twitters through the crowd, much to his delight. the rasta boys always attract the young girls from europe. because they look so cool, especially when jammin' reggae on stage. magere is a great performer. and a wonderful person. when he saw me last night he said "eh malaika ya vumbi! where you been, baby?" (dust angel in swahili) i love been called baby at 42. like when i went sailing around zanzibar a few years ago, and the young, very young (they looked about 12, and were most likely 20? 21? or something ridiculous like that), very delectable crew of this spectacular old schooner, called me "princess". i looked levelly at them and retorted, " baby, i think its queen to you...", as i leapt off the dangrously high mast into the sea below..but that is quite another story.
my friend bob finally sang his incredible "Summertime" which has been in the making for the last 25 years, or so he says. bob is something else. he has played with tina turner, a long time ago. he looks like a blues man from a smoky blues bar in new orleans. he has some stories to tell. he's lived a varied life, if you can say it like that. and the biggest dimpled smile. he has taught me so much about performing, writing, rehearsing, music. and bob can rip some notes on an electric guitar when you're not looking...when we played in nairobi the girls were shouting "we love you bob!" he had worn a white muslim kanzu (dress) , the muslim kofia (hat) and a pair of Nkrumah sun glasses.
marcello sang an amusing song about having to write a song for the evening. flo sang unaccompanied - her african woman voice soaring into the quiet stars.
david seng'enge, who should be seriously famous, performed his guitar instrumental (Dreams) with Liza. liza has played motzart concertos in Carnegie Hall. seriously. she is an utterly brilliant musician. what she is doing in arusha, god only knows. she runs a music school called umoja. (liza in action on RHS) . i always think of her in an amythest taffeta gown, bowing deeply to a packed Carnegie Hall, her old violin at her side (its like 18th century of something) with roses flying through the air....get it? instead. here she is in arusha......go figure.
david (below) is studying music and helping to teach at the school....that man knows the guitar more intimately than himself, i suspect. the guitar seems like an extension of his heart. he listens. and i love the way his great cheeks shake when he plays with every fibre if his being. and the way his fingers race up and down the fretboard, knowing each nuance before the notes themselves. david should be famous. i wish i could say to the world, " i give you david seng'enge". I give you David Seng'enge.
and i sang New Leaves and The Photograph. my fave lines from new leaves (a song about bastard exes) are:
who do you think you are?
acting like some crummy superstar?
i get such a kick from singing them. aren't they so bad? nothing "deep" about 'em. very gary glitter. but, i think they work. they made people laugh last night. at least.
and how about:
did it ever cross your mind?
you see. i am made for backwater towns.
Kitchen Board: Sunday morning: 21 September 2008
Contributors: Veronica, Darth Vader (think he morphed out of the tv screen).
Comments: its a long list for monday. aargh.
wishing everyone a wonderfully chilled out sunday. and the best week ever ahead. listen to your dreams. pay heed to your thoughts and words.. toodely pip and bisous bisous toujours xxx janelle