We just called it that Khasi song. No one knew what it meant. But no Millenial in Mizoram cared. We all sang along, making up nonsense words. At least we got the tune right. We bobbed along. In college, I asked Amebari to translate the song for me. She did. I don’t remember it. It honestly did not matter much. I am told it was big in Nagaland too at the time. Nagas and Mizo tend to have similar taste in a lot of things. It felt like every single Naga owned laptop in Delhi in the 00s had Michael M Sailo’s Pari Zun. I actually first heard Senhri Parmawi by Mami Varte from a Naga house party. They made me listen and write down the lyrics. And then they fed me bastenga pork for my troubles.
There’s just something about music that wakes up something in you, seemingly effortlessly. Music has such power it can affect moods. This is a topic for another day, so let’s put a pin on it. I saw a IG reel of Oof Ka Jingieid recently is what made me think of the foreign songs I love that I don’t understand but most importantly, don’t need to understand to enjoy. A lot of Shakira songs, for example. I know all the words to the Spanish Laundry Service songs and I know exactly none per cent of Spanish.
Oof Ka Jingieid, right?
My thoughts are spilling out and I need to write them down. I just figure it might be fun to pick some of the foreign language songs I adore.
Mori No Chiisana Resutoran
Food related reels brought the song to my attention. It sounded Japanese to me; just some quality to it. I began scanning the comment sections whenever a reel played it and realised that like me, there were others who liked the song and were also searching for it. Someone finally was nice enough to do us the service.
The song was called Mori No Chiisana Resutoran by Aoi Teshima. Japanese. I was right. Vindication! (For my ears having the ability to feel a language I don’t even speak).
Spotify had it so I often played it till I gradually got the tune right. And one random day, I Googled the translated lyrics! It was the sweetest, cutest shit.
Scanning the lyrics, I realised it contained 5 English words – restaurant, violin, flute, cello and viola. I did not catch any of them. I mean one was in the very title itself so that one I got but sort of glossed over. I listened to it properly and there it was “violin, flute, cello, viola”!
My ears could pick out that the song was Japanese but also at the same time couldn’t pick the English words out of it. That was interesting. Selective hearing? Interesting topic in itself. Lowkey humbling.
Secondly, it made me wonder: if a Mizo song contained those same English words pronounced in as heavy an accent, whether it would be celebrated or ridiculed. I am not entirely sure, even now.
Thirdly, as with most things Japanese, there was just that aggressively kawaii element to the song. The Japanese dedicate so much of themselves to making things beautiful, even with broken things. Sometimes I think what makes Japanese art and culture seem so deep, to me at least, is how sincere they always seem. We all try to create beauty and we do do that. In our own ways. My gentle critique for my own society is that we might be the tiniest bit overly obsessed with Image over Substance. With Japanese idea of art and beauty, even the pretty packaging has substance to it. Just check out reels of Japanese gift wrappers. Dear lawd.
Anyway. Such an aggressively cute song and for me, always thought provoking.
Con Te Partiro
Never had a song stunned me so hard as Con Te Partiro by Andrea Bocelli on my very first listen. I am not deep in music so I’ve never really paid too much attention to any arrangements. I’ve also never listened to Opera. All I knew (pretty much know, as in the present tense) of Opera was the one that the cartoon person sang just before Cartoon Network blew up in a TNT (the bomb) blast at 9PM and TNT (the channel) started.
So I was really surprised to hear this wonderful music that spoke to my soul. I didn’t even know what song it was. I guessed Italian because… Opera. Also Andrea Bocelli was an Italian name. And then Sarah Brightman began singing some of the song in English and I realized, Oh okay it’s something to do with lovers saying goodbye. I never bothered to learn what the Italian part meant. I was well into about 3 years of having loved the song before I Googled what the words were and what they meant.
I like the lyrics. It’s just that it is not that important to me. I don’t know what about the song speaks to me so deeply that it is a visceral part of me appreciating music.
To say I like this song is an understatement. I don’t really listen to any other Andrea Bocelli song. Or Sarah Brightman, come to that. Or even more opera. Opera pop? Ballad? I don’t really know the genre. I just know I don’t listen to tenors like Bocelli very much. My taste in music is, as a boy once told me, simpler than complex. I like what I like. And I like Con Te Partiro.
The majesty of this song moves me and makes me want to cry from the beauty. It has always been this way. Years of listening to this song and it is still the same. And it has taught me to listen for arrangements.
Music, no? Damn.
He Melo No Lilo
Sometimes animated movies go really hard in their soundtracks. Shrek, for example. Or Tarzan. Their soundtracks have no business being that good or that timeless. But there we go. Lilo & Stitch is another. That funny little ohana celebrating cartoon introduced me to a few Elvis Presley songs. Which I appreciate. And am grateful for.
But it also introduced me to He Melo No Lilo. Ugh, I love this song. It is so whimsical and so melancholy and, just in essence, so tribal. Like all the foreign songs I like, I don’t really care about its lyrics. It is the music that touches me.
I always have high admiration for how dedicated successful people are when they do things. I think it’s the basis for success that ought to be appreciated. There are many different ways to succeed, to be sure. C’est la vie. But the ones that truly last have been by people who have been dedicated to their art. In whichever form.
He Melo No Lilo is one of those songs that will transcend language barriers because it is that good. Like the Tarzan and Shrek soundtracks. You’d think less dedicated people would just dismiss it as kids’ movies and hence there was no need to create such deep art. But these people poured their soul into their music. There are no misses in Tarzan and Shrek soundtracks. They are always that good. And has stood the test of time. Years later, the tracklist is still a no skip.
Dedication. What a lesson to learn from a fun little kiddie song.
Quelques Mots D’amour
Serendipity. What a lovely word. And exactly how I came by this song.
A woman told my mother that she was opening a second-hand clothes bale and she required her children to buy at least one T-shirt. Each. So we looked through the pile. I found a huge dirty-orange T-shirt with some French words written on it. I’d taken one class of French back in high school is how I recognized the language. Which piqued my curiosity because it was followed by, in much diminutive letters, “whispered in French”. I Googled the words.
To my surprise, it was not just a phrase but a song title. To my pleasant surprise, the song was incredible!
Quelques Mots D’amour has never fallen off of my Spotify downloaded music since. Downloaded because you never know when the internet is going to abandon you. I do that with a lot of my media platforms, I realise.
Anyway, Serendipity. Life happens to you when you least expect it. My first kiss was serendipitous; that was fun. Meenu’s grandfather sent her a book which I borrowed when I was bored is how Serendipity introduced me to Harry Potter; I remain a Potterhead years later. I discovered Billie Piper was an actress and decided to check out one of her works is how I serendipitously discovered Doctor Who; I happily am a committed Whovian.
Life is funny that way. On a random day, with your mind slightly distracted and a few Election related tabs open in the background, you discover Quelques Mots D’amour.
Whispered, I might add, in French.
NB:
It would be entirely remiss of me to write this without mentioning the marvellous Ngurthangvela covers of English songs. I once spent a Christmas in Delhi with Priscilla and we listened to his renditions of Cotton Fields, I Feel Lonely, Bacardi Blast and Hotel California in endless repeats. They made us happy. They’re not particularly good by any measurable standards of music but on the entertainment value, they rank high. I’m not entirely sure if he knows the words he is singing either. A lot of people will mention “backs free” and “breaks fee”; that is already well known. And oft repeated. But it behooves me to mention that when he sings “You Ree the one only…” in I Feel Lonely, the actual lyrics is “You’re the one and only”; that one took some time for me to figure out.
To quote Dumbledore, “Ah music. A magic beyond all we do here!” At Hogwarts, of course. Home to magic. And music, apparently.
