The North wind has stopped blowing and the waves - previously crashing against the wall of the little harbour at Monastiraki – have transformed into a flat ripple across the still sea.
There is still a breeze blowing gently through the bougainvillea which sits on my right and the young olive tree which sits on my left.
The brilliant blue of the swimming pool matches the brilliant blue of the sky – sandwiching a large green hillside in between, scarred by small winding road the climbs and descends, curving round the coastline.
This is my view each day as I eventually wake from my slumber and descend to the veranda to consume my breakfast and consider the unbridled indolence which I have planned for the day.
Now the sun is beginning to fade following my afternoon nap, which in turn followed a day of little movement but much reflection. . .
A very Greek breakfast of “Frappe” – a uniquely Greek approach to making coffee involving shaking Nescafe, sugar, water and ice until they form a creamy froth and then adding water and evaporated milk to taste – and thick strained yoghurt with honey has been consumed slowly and intently while listening to some Balkan jazz in the form of Serbian jazz trumpeter Dusko Gojkovic – a great musician.
Greece is wonderfully positioned between Europe, the Balkans and the South Eastern Med / Middle East – and the culture mix reflects this, particularly in musical terms. Gypsy rhythms, Turkish beats, Byzantine and Middle Eastern scales, Balkan melodies – they’re all present in the musical mix that is contemporary (and indeed less contemporary) Greek music.
The Greek Outi is the Middle East’s Oud, the Bouzouki a Greco-Turkish instrument, the guitar, violin, accordion and various hand drums are all shared across this wider region as are their rhythms and melodies.
This music belongs to mountains, rocky roads, coastlines and islands – a music of rebels, troubadours, gypsies that communicates hope, despair, pleasure, pain, love, loneliness and the general condition of the soul.
But then all music somehow communicates the human condition and the mood or mindset of the composer and performer. So to listen to the music of this area is to listen to the Greek / Balkan / Turkish / Byzantine / Middle Eastern soul.
Whether Rebetika, laika, dimotika, entechna, nisiotika, or one of the many other sub genres, the various sounds of Greek music resonate perfectly with the soul of the people who live here and in the wider region. Just go to Crete and hear the “Amanedes” for example…or the Clarina (clarinet) in the valleys near Livadeia (Giorgos Mangas – an amazing gypsy clarinetist is a particular favorite of mine – you can sample him here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T-oSWBEWllY&feature=related but it is admittedly an acquired taste! Mangas, in addition to touring Greece playing improvised clarinet at the Panigyria (festivals) has also played with some of the great jazz musicians of Europe and the United States and is greatly admired for his unique technique.)
Today however, I have not been listening to Giorgos Mangas – but instead – following the interlude of my Balkan jazz breakfast, I have listened almost exclusively to the catalogue of Tom Waits – one of my favourite musicians, entertainers and poets.
Waits is a genius who has managed over a period of nearly forty years to chronicle the underbelly of America with charm, wit and great poetry – as well as with stunning music borrowing alternately from jazz, blues, folk and experimental music.
The Wall Street Journal critic Jim Fusilli once described Waits' music thus:
“A keen, sensitive and sympathetic chronicler of the adrift and downtrodden, Mr. Waits creates three-dimensional characters who, even in their confusion and despair, are capable of insight and startling points of view. Their stories are accompanied by music that's unlike any other in pop history.”
I couldn’t have put it better myself.
An enormously talented guitarist and pianist (self taught), Waits is perhaps most well known for his highly distinctive voice, once wonderfully described by critic Daniel Durchholz as sounding "like it was soaked in a vat of bourbon, left hanging in the smokehouse for a few months, and then taken outside and run over with a car."
Indeed Tom Waits once successfully sued an advertising agency for using a voice similar to his for a commercial without his permission.
Having spent many vacations on road trips across the US, and having spent plenty of time in bummed out bars, hellholes and worse, looking for a good drink, some good music or some crazy people to hang out with, I appreciate his expert insight into booze, blues and the bad side of life – as much as I appreciate his hope, humour and happiness.
There are so many songs of his that I adore and which I connect deeply with – both personally and to events, places and people – that I won’t go into details now.
My favourite album overall remains his first – Closing Time – which I have written about before on road trips in the US. It is a very balanced and complete work and which – through other people covering two of its songs (Ol’55 and Martha) launched his career. The work he put out in the 70s is uniformly excellent and the 80s also saw – post Asylum records(his first label) – some great work. The more experimental material – starting with Swordfish Trombones and moving into Frank’s Wild Years (an opera composed by Waits and co-written with his wife) – is much less accessible but still worth persevering with as it has some very interesting colours to it.
So a morning with Tom Waits, a break for lunch, and then an afternoon nap listening to my favourite Waits tracks until sleep overcame me, brings me right up to date as I sit with another Frappe, a plate of sliced chilled nectarines and write this piece in celebration of another lovely day of doing nothing.
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