|
Much stories to
be told of MUSTAPHA. Somewhere beyond the aural tradition,
but at some commencement point a feature will be made of British Disc
Jockey John Peel, whose early ears caught the band on shortwave broadcast
and in public at the National Refrigeration Conference Dance. He championed
the champions - in his return honour was a mountain named. And so the BBC
first broadcast to the listening public the innocent stew of MUSTAPHA; MUSTAPHA doing as always what they did MUSTAPHA,
playing the sounds of
their Crazy Loquat Bar, the endless requests of restless truckers trapped
on their way through the cultural
/ contrabandista crossroads of their
mapless fastness town, their town Szegerely. More portable than a radio,
more spinning than its dial, more rechargeable than its batteries , the
young MUSTAPHAs
followed the pointy import-export call to travel of their
Uncle Patrel ('the self-employed wolf') then uncomfortably wedged,
thornlike, in the belly of London UK. Uncle: mouth of a generation,
fashioning with a brain of mercury and a tongue of sugar, silver and iron
(a precious alloy named patrelium) those Chilling Tales. The Hero with a
Thousand Fezzes. The forbidden, unhidden firstborn of Little Red Riding
Hood and her lycanthrope love liaison. Articulating the past and future of
his family and fields, the innocent celebrations and guilty parties of the
Szegerely night, the wolf-infested dreams that weren't dreams, the
capricious destructions and casual tumblings of monuments and lovehearts;
in all a griotical reponsibility for carrying the secret password by
tractor to the gate between myth and reality. We saw a public held as on a
skewer in the steely blast of his headlights, lupine howls surging from a
hidden beast-reservoir in his proud chest as the Chilling Tale cast itself
out, and we were proud too.
When Armstrong of Ace Records finally agreed to take on these shiny teeth
of Szegerely for his fledgling GlobeStyle imprint, question of recording
was aired. A collective revelation of MUSTAPHA decided that people always
sound at best when singing in the bath, so intrepid nightingale Oussack
took the commission to find the best bathroom. He returned with the keys to
Essex Road Baths, 2 mighty swimming pools under one roof deep in the heart
of Islington. Splish, splash and crash! To capture the bathtime in sound,
Adam Skeaping 'El Digitaloco' came with a pair of microphones for the
stereo image and with his classical experience balanced the bandboys, here
closer, here farther, here Uncle. What you hear is 5 boys and their uncle
singing, dancing and running around in giant empty swimming pools. Never
before had this phenomenon been better captured. Close your eyes and there
you are. Friend, if you wish to see that place, don't look for it in
Islington ! for life followed art caught in the whirlwind Chilling Tailspin
of Uncle's narrative, and this great cultural edifice received unsought
prominence and the council knocked it down. But the reverb lingers on.
Proud Fun. The honour of the first direct
- outside - broadcast - radio - linkup from
the Crazy Loquat to the world goes to British Disc Jockey Charlie
Gillett (via Capital Radio). This was before ISDN or STD made global
linkage a piece of a cake. Mark this! Heroic Gillett was pouring his own
shillings into the slot at the radio station just to keep the phone line
open. It
|
|
Three Mustaphas Three: Uncle (left) and Nephews.
was worth it, despite the hearty backslapping delays and language
problems. Not that any of the songs from the broadcast are included here,
but the boys wanted to mention this early bridge to the outside and thank
Gillett for his commitment and loose change. Thanks also from and to the
group's facilitator
/ manager Mr L Askadinia.
In Berlin, MUSTAPHA had discovered a golden patron in the shape of
Borkowsky Akbar. (translator's note: he was in the shape of Borkowsky Akbar
because he was Borkowsky Akbar). This imposing impresario had heard of
MUSTAPHA through
the rumours of the great tradeways, reinforced by
broadcast of Peel, and the tingling of his fingertips. Smelling spirit,
Borkowsky 'The Svengali of Spend' had summoned MUSTAPHA to go to Berlin to
play; so it was. Bound ever tighter to the boys by his love of adventure
and a sincere desire to recoup
his losses, he loved nothing less than a BIG BAND! for a series
of shows at the old BallHouse in Naunynstrasse, Kreuzberg district.
And so with much heimatclangour 15 playing MUSTAPHAs and
2 dancing MUSTAPHAs flew to Berlin. Met at the airport
with vodka and roses, the BIG BAND surprised with classy noise
shock waves the german public to whom Bert Kaempfert and James
Last were the only BIG BAND swingers in the shop. Vodka and roses,
vodka and roses, no food, just vodka and roses, snow and Uncle
speaking in wolfy tongues as the Chilling Tale went on, his wolfy
tongue a red carpet unrolling from the the heart of Szegerely
to the hearts of the world.
Not missing a trick
was the old Peel, and in one magnificent afternoon with one magnificent
budget, the BIG BAND - L'Orchestre "BAM" de Grand Mustapha
International and Party - crowded to Maida Vale BBC Studios en
route to Berlin and 'did the session'. Peel, you get 2 mountains
for your bravery, and into the airwaves it went.
O pioneers of the
airwaves, you recorded, you linked, you broadcast, you spent
your money, you touched people from a distance and made friends.
O builders of swimming pools, so did you, but in your own terms.
Peace, love, respect and radios - may we all be singing in the
bath together.
Sincerely
Hijaz Mustapha
(this English translation © Translagencies 1997)
|
