Szombat este pont nyolcra ertem oda a PeCsahoz, a VHK idezo koncertre. Na ilyen is nagyon reg volt, hogy a meghirdetett kezdopontkor ott voltam, de nem akartam lemaradni semmirol. Hosszu sor volt, de igy is 10 perc alatt bejutottam. Ahhoz kepest, hogy volt olyan, hogy 3-4 orat is vartam koncertkezdesre valaha, most alig egyet. Kilenc elott par perccel elkezdtek a zenet. Addig, ahogy gondoltam, sikerult osszefutni nehany ismerossel. Volt olyan akit 15 eve nem lattam, es olyan is akit csak 2-3. Es rengeteg arcot ismertem fel a 80-as evek koncertvilagabol, akikkel nem voltam koszonoviszonyban annak idejen, vagy csak mara elfelejtkeztem rola. Furcsa erzes volt latni azt, hogy ki hogyan oregedett meg.

Alapjaban jo koncert volt, nagyon orultem, hogy elmentem. Az elso masfel oraban az 5-6. sorban alltam. Illetve nem igazan alltam, hanem tancoltam. Kesobb, kisse megfaradva, ugyanolyan magassagban, de a terem szelen voltam, csak nehany dinamikusabb resznel indultam be annyira, hogy be kelljen mennem. Jol ereztem magam es orultem, hogy a zeneszek es a kozonseg jo resze szemmel lathatolag velem volt ebben az erzesben.

A koncert elott egy gimnaziumi osztalytarsam, aki joban van Grandpierre-rel es a zenekarral meselte, hogy az volt a terv, hogy a koncert elotti napon tartott sajtotajekoztaton Ipacs kibekul a zenekarral. Merthogy azert volt ez “VHK idezo” es nem siman VHK, mert az Ipacs nem volt benne. A klasszikus felallas az evek soran valtozott, de ez az “idezo” felallas az Ipacs kivetelevel ugyanaz volt, mint az utolso a 2000-es feloszlas elotti. Ipacs-ot egy uj dobos helyettesitette, akivel a zenekar tagjai mashol mukodtek mar egyutt. Szoval latvanyos kibekules volt tervezve, de Ipacsnak beverzett a hasa nem sokkal a sajtotajekoztato elott. Igy a koncertre sem tudott eljonni, pedig meg dobolt is volna egy kicsit. Ez persze a nagy kozonsegnek nem derult ki, mert ez egy nem olyan zenekar, ami a szamok kozben narracioval, beszeddel zaklatna a kozonseget.

Par perc hijan harom orat jatszottak. Az elso nehany szam klasszikus, regi szam volt. Meg az utolso raadasok is. Kozben azert volt egy jo par amit en nem ismertem, mert az utolso ket harom lemezt– gyakorlatilag az 1995-os tavozasom utani idoszakbol– nem nagyon hallottam meg. Ezek kozott volt jo nehany lassabb szam is, ami nekem szokatlan volt, de a nagykozonsegnek nem. Egy ilyen hosszu futamideju showba beillettek. Rovidebben nem tudom, hogy jottek volna ki. Ha jol emlekszem negyszer jottek vissza a vegen. Tehat a kozonseg eenrgiajaval es ennek a zenekar altal torteno eszlelesevel nem volt hiba. Bar meg kell, hogy mondjam, hogy furcsalltam, mennyire kevesen mozogtak a musor elejen. Hatra is mentem megnezni, hogy hatha ott tobb hely van es kevesbe zavarna az embereket a tancom. Meg amugy is az en tancstilusom az egyeni es nem a csoportos pogo.

A terem elegge tele volt hatul, de ott mindenki sziklaszilardan allt, tancra alkalmatlanna teve a helyett, legalabb is a belolem mara mar hianyzo kello agresszio nelkul. Az nagy meglepetes volt, hogy eleg halkan szolt hatul a zene. Elol allva azt hittem, hogy en lettem suketebb az evek soran, mert ugy emlekeztem, hogy annak idejen joval hangosabban szolt nem csak a VHK, hanem a legtobb koncert is. Gyakorlatilag a hangfal elott toltottem 3 orat es a fogam, fejem, gyomrom, szinte semi sem erezte a duborgest. Ugy emlekszem, hogy regen nem birtam volna ennyit pont ott lenni, mert a duborges tulsagosan razta volna a testem. De abbol, hogy hatul halk volt a show kiderult szamomra, hogy egyszeruen tenyleg halkabb volt az erosites, illetve ez esetben gyengites. Tehat visszamentem a terem elso felebe, ahol azert lehetett rendesen hallani a zenet. Ez a resz a koncert utolso orajaban vegre erosen hullamzott, mindenki mozgott.

Egy szamnal behivtak Szonuszt, Soos Lajost, hegedulni/enekelni. O a klasszikus felallas, amire en anno sokat jartam, egyik oszlopos tagja volt. Mar nem emlekszem, hogy mikor es miert rugtak ki. Gondolom koze volt ahhoz, hogy sokat ivott, de lehet, hogy rosszul tudom. Valaha feltunoen szep fiu volt, mara ez mar nem mondhato rola. Rajta sokkal jobban latszott az elmult 25 ev, mint az enekesen. O, Attila, majdnem ugyanugy ropta vegig a harom orat, mint ket-harom evtizeddel ezelott. Annyi kulonbseg volt, hogy a karja sokszor tai-chi-szeru mozdulatokkal mulatta a lassabban telo szamokat. Szonusz ehhez kepest neha ugy mozgott a vonozas kozben, mint egy kisiskolas. Ez nekem ujdonsagkent hatott. Az jutott eszembe rola, hogy talan meg mindig altalanos iskolai tanar es a kornyezete mozgas vilaga hatott ra imigyen. Vegul tobb raadasnal is bejott a szinpadra jatszani, ennek orultem. Annak nem, hogy a mikrofonra, amibe o probalt enekelni nem raktak eleg hangerot. Ezert akarmilyen erosen probalt uvolteni alig hallatszott. Ugy erzem direkt volt a harom mikrofon keverve, hogy Attilan kivul alig lehetett a masik kettot hallani. Kar.

Egy nepdalos szamnal behivtak egy lanyt is hegedulni. Neki valami profi, erdekes alaku elektromos hegeduje volt. Ot is csak akkor lehetett valamennyire hallani, amikor a tobbi hangszerszam nem szolt. Nekem olyan sokat nem adott hozza az elmenyhez, inkabb megzavart. A VHK az egy nagyon ferfias zenekar. Ugy ereztem, hogy egy feminim elem ezzel nem lehet igy osszhangban. Ket tippem van, hogy miert kerult oda. Vagy valakinek a felesege/noje volt, vagy a Vagtazo Csodaszarvas, folk formacioban jatszik egyutt Attilaval. Mindegy, hogy igaz-e barmelyik otletem, csak egy szam erejeig volt ott, aztan lement. Viszont szep ruhaja volt.

A szinpad diszletese szep volt, de nem jo. Hatul volt ket vetitovaszon, amire allo es alig mozgo kepeket vetittek, ilyesmit: saman jelek, tipikus VHK dizajnba illo festmenek lassan mozgatva, csillagok/galaxisok illetve egy elnagyolt animacio egy dobolo os/gyurma emberrel. Kicsit elorebb harom feszitett, festett dob logott, amirol pantlikak logtak, legelol pedig ket allati koponya logott be fentrol. Szoval minden szep volt es illett a kepbe, de nekem az sterilnek tunt, hogy mindez tul magason volt. Lehetetlen lett volna a gyekoraciajaba belegabalyodni. Regen pedig az is izgalmas volt, hogy mi tortenik az elettelen targyak es az elo emberek osszefonodasabol. Most ezek kulonvaltak.

Ez a gondolat bizonyitja, hogy nem tokeletesen sikerult a tervem. En azt hittem, hogy nem osszehasonlito hangulatban ertem oda es voltam jelen. Tudtam, hogy negyedszazad telt el az altalam fenykorkent megelt idoszak ota, es biztos sokat valtoztak a zeneszek, a zenek es a vilag. Azt hittem sikerul majd ujkent megelni a koncertet, es nem allandoan osszehasonlitani a regvolthoz. Mert azt felteteleztem, hogy az a a hozzallas csak sopankodassal vegzodhet, hogy bezzeg az ammenyivel jobb volt. Szoval szerintem nyitott elmevel es fullel voltam ott, ezert birtam elvezni a showt. Egy szikra sopankodas sem volt bennem ott. De most, hogy leultem leirni az emlekkepeket a szombat esterol latom, hogy akaratlanul is egy elkepzelt etalonhoz merem a mostani performanszot. Regen belegabalyodtak a diszletekbe, most nem es ez “rossz.” Nem, nem rossz. Meg kell, hogy ertsem, hogy 55-60 evesen mar vannak testi akadalyok, amiket erdemes figyelembe venni. (Megjegyzes: a koncert utan lattam a ket mebert beszelgetni aki nagyon rovid ideig probaltak az enekes szerepet betoltani a VHK-ben 2000-ben. Ahogy elneztem oket, hiaba voltak 15-20 evvel fiatalabbak Attilanal, nem birtak volna fizikailag vegig csinalni egy ilyen intenziv harom orat.)

A fentieket figyelembe veve azert nem tudtam megallni, hogy ne eddasodasnak eljek meg egy ket koncert elemet. A kozonseg legalabb 4-5 szamot egyutt enekelt a zenekarral. Egy olyan zenekarral akinek az elso par eveben, nem is vettem szre, hogy vannak szamaik, mert minden improvizacionak tunt. Ehhez kepest a slagerek egyutt eneklese a rajongokkal, kozonseges rockzenekarra degradalta a szememben a VHK-t, amit mindig is ilyen semak fele helyeztem. Tobbe ezt nem tehetem meg, ok is csak ugyanabban a szcenaban mozognak, mint a tobbi rockvilagi alkoto. Mas eddasodasra utalo jeleket is eszrevettem. Eddasodas alatt azt ertem, hogy a klasszikus, oszinte korszak utan egy olyan idoszak jott, amikor onmaga parodiajava valt a zenekar. Az egyik jel a kozonseg buzditasa volt, hogy csapjak ossze a mancsukat a fejuk felett. Na nem mintha nagyon kellett voln buzditani a kezeket, mentek azok maguktol is. De nekem furcsa volt iranyitott csapolast latni egy valaha kaotikus bulin. A legfurcsabb viszont a zenekar (egyik) bucsuzasa volt. Mindannyian kijottek elore, sorba alltak, megfogtak egymas vallat, es egyesevel fel-felloditottak a labukat, ugy hogy a zenesztarsak tartottak fenn a sulyukat. Na ilyet en leginkabb a muvies Eddanal es hasonlo rocksztari allurokkel felruhazott zenekaroknal lattam. Emberileg teljesen megertem, kozben vigyorogtak, mint az allatok. Nyilvan szivtak magukba a kozonsegbol felejuk iranyulo energiat es az euforival tolthette el oket. Joggal, remek koncertet adtak. De nekem nem hianyzott ez a reakcio a zeneszektol. Na es a az atizzadt zeneszi polot bedobni a vegen a kozonseg soraiba, az leginkabb relikvia epitesre alkalmas. A rajongo aki elkapta a polot, otthon egy oltart epithet kore. Meg irigy sem vagyok.

A fenntartasaim ellenere, orultem, hogy ott lehettem ezen az idezesen; reg szorakoztam ilyen jol testben lelekben. A szeansz jol sikerul, a halott koszoni jol van, remelhetoleg lesz folytatas is.

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The second third shows the protagonist’s life in the village of his mother’s, where he fled after accidentally killing a boy. He had to leave, but only for seven years. The system of justice practiced or more likely inherited in his tribe seems more just to me then the invader white men’s. At this point the things that fall apart seem to be only falling apart for him, who had the will and aptitude to become one of the leaders of his tribe. But large tragedy sets in when white men arrives.

In the second part of the book we just read about them in the news happening got other villages. But in the third part h returns to his home, where he has to deal with them personally. That’s when and where the decline of his personal life and his ancestral civilization really sets in. I cannot tell more without killing the story for you.

The beauty of this book is in its description of life before western civilization ruined it. The author, Chunua Achebe, combined the precision of anthropological observation with heartfelt feelings, but excluded the ethnocentricism we are accustomed to from western “participant observant”. The book showed to me the damage what colonialization, or more precisely proselytization can and did cause.

In The Big Sleep Bogart, as detective Marlowe shoots all over, although I don’t recall him targeting a door specifically. But, certainly, there were at least three people shot dead in doorways while him being present. Shooting and fighting was a major part of the action. However, by today the stylized, unrealistic ways these scenes were done seem old-fashioned. I enjoyed though, because it was clear that no actors were damages while making this movie. With all the explosions and heavy machine-gun fires you can see in today’s thrillers this provided the kind of calm needed to follow the story. I was not distracted by the fake violence. However the plot was a bit too complex for me. It ran on many dark threads than joined in my head only at the end.

The funny or sad thing, depending on how you look at it, is that I didn’t recall Lauren Bacall’s, the movie’s female lead’s name. Having read upon her she turns out to be Bogart’s real life wife and apparently equally famous. I blame the Communist censorship media which prevented some of the Hollywood glamour world to be spread in Hungary. It’s never too late to discover her: in the Big Sleep she acted, sang, joked like a real diva should. It was fun hearing her poking Detective Marlowe about his height, while being aware that Bogart was indeed shorter than his wife.

The movie itself was a blast. Howard Hawks directed it with his precision, fast space attentive style. There were at least as many shady characters, dark corners, gloomy rooms, and deep secrets as you would expect a classic film noir. Having an affinity for books I also enjoyed the library and bookshop scenes, although in both the emphasis was placed in Bogart’s (successfully) flirting with the librarian/clerk. Is it possible that the “sexy librarian” stereotype originated here or was the movie just using the existing image?

I am glad I caught up with this classic. For a good time, mind-twisting puzzles, great performances you should too.

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This is a top 1000 movie.

I have been immersed in my Judaism related readings in the last few years that barely had a chance to read from other traditions. Baldwin’s description of being saved by Jesus, of being born again, of living through extensive trance, of having visions as full body experiences helped me to understand what adult Christian conversion might mean. Without having the intention or call to follow that path this is as close as I can get to live it through myself. The 30 page description of the main character’s, the 14 year old John’s, first transcendental experience is a masterpiece in itself.

I will never be able to know from the inside what it means to be black, or what it meant to be black in the first half of the last century. But Baldwin’s approach created an environment, where I could place myself in their shoes. I have a deeper appreciation of the hardships millions went through and a stronger anger about racism; be it personal or institutional, millions had to face. Through showing not just John’s life in Harlem, but the origins of his extensive family’s (growing up in rural areas decades earlier) I gained a more comprehensive picture of the African-American experience. Yes, I learned about Harlem renaissance, Jim Crow laws, slavery, desegregation efforts, but up till now these belonged to the history section of my limited mind, that likes to label and categorize knowledge. Baldwin’s characters made them personal; these are no longer abstract truths for me, but more about people I could care for.

This leads me to the third area: relations. Partnerships, filial duties, marriages, preacher-flock these are just some of the relationships Baldwin shows us masterfully. I appreciated the tight style of the writing. There is not a single superfluous adjective. Descriptions of scenery, every day objects, and places is kept to a minimal. These seem unnecessary when you are telling the story of inner actions. The chronicle is exclusively about the people, their motivations, and in John’s case, internal monologues.

Thank you Baldwin for reminding me what good books are about: exposing yourself to new experiences, worlds, lives that you personally will never be able to live.

Part of my problem was the voice it was read by, the author’s herself. The main character, whose life the book follows from preteen to late 20’s, never really knew what she wanted, she just seemed to be floating by. Her only decisions were non-decision, making sure she does not do something, like her bat-mitzvah or making moves in relationships. Her sanguine nature was well-reflected by the reader’s voice, which was monotone. The intonation of every sentence in the first half of the book went way down and slowed down as well. This created a depressive effect. In a way this reading style fit the character’s ambivalence, but made it less interesting to follow. It was hard to care for the fate of a person, who did not really care for herself. She just bumped from one job to another, from one relationship to another, without having feeling really passionate about either.

The disadvantage of listening to a book and not having great memory is that I forgot the four or five truly great sentences the book contained. I had no chance of marking them in a book or jotting them down, because I listed to the book in the gym in the course of 8 or 9 workouts. I do not remember any of these sentences, but they were revelatory on how to put together phrases that can capture specific moods in a most precise manner. Without these I might have felt that it was a waste of my time to listen to the whole thing. But now I know that this kind of coming of age story is not for my taste.

But the book as a whole is too far from being perfect. The story runs on too many threads in too many different eras and areas. Some authors can pull it off. I love reading grand family sagas arching over centuries. However I would have preferred to read the content of this book as a series of short stories. Apparently in the newer addition of the book there is an interview with the author in which she mentions that she thinks of herself more as a short story writer. I have to agree with her,

One way to handle my dissatisfaction of the book is to think of the book itself as a genizah. Genizah refers to depositories of synagogues, where unused sacred texts are kept, before they can be buried. This book has chapters that seemingly have nothing to do with the rest of the book. I thought long and hard trying to figure out how the four midrashim (stories) about Moses– some of them are traditional, others are made up by the author–connects to the plot. I came up empty. That’s when I decided that just as in a genizah–where next to each other can lay two unrelated items, one of them a historical gem, the other useless junk—the subsequent chapters next to each other may have nothing to do with each other. The value of the genizah is in its mix, so maybe the value of this book should also be sought in the mix of genres it offers.

I am sorry to say that this approach didn’t work for me. Despite that the story in itself is interesting. Next time I want to read Yellin (and it is worthwhile, because her descriptive powers are impressive) I will check out her short stories.