Week One

2009-01-08T12:15:00.000-08:00

Here's what happened in the first week of 2009:

Dec 29th...

Hanging out at 3pm in the east village of manhattan drinking bloody marys with my favorite peoples... Matt, Meetu and my cousin Alex. They try to get me drunk and make me miss my 7pm flight out of Newark. Not happening. Quickly say peace to my great friend Dimitri before getting stuck in Holland tunnel traffic. I was in India-driver mode already, putting the Bangladeshi cab drivers to shame as I overtook them.

Got to my dad's place in jersey city. Zipped the suitcases closed on 100 lbs of musical equipment. Drove like mad to the airport. Hugged my dad goodbye until I see him again when he comes to India. Made the flight.

1st flight to Paris. 2 screaming infants next to me. No sleep. Read 100 pages of Shantaram. At Charles DeGaulle airport I stuffed myself silly with croissants and pan de chocolat. Picked up a nice Medoc to save for a special occasion in India where wine duties are 200%. Flight delay. Flight to New Delhi. 3 infants in my row. No sleep. Overtired and excited to be back in India soon.

Dec 30th...

Flying...

Dec 31st...

Arrived in the wee hours. I'm supposed to DJ tonight. Welcomed by an hour long customs line. Make it through with my ton of studio gear (2 speakers, 2 keyboards, midi mixer, dj mixer, 2 laptops, records, stands and other misc stuff). Hotel driver picks me up.

Walk outside. India slaps me in the face. The air is THICK. Cold, foggy...spicey, smokey, dusty. So foggy that you cant see cars more than 7 feet ahead. What a shock. My adrenaline is pumping. Get my stuff in the car, get on the road. Car horns and dogs barking. Neon dashboard display pumping out the latest remixed bollywood beats. Look out the window and see filth in front of closed shops, mounds of rubble everywhere (signifying the perpetual road construction), scrawny security guards huddled around fires, and wild dogs chasing after our car. Occasionally massive, brightly painted goods trucks (from like the 1950s) decorated with Hindi and good luck symbols cut through the fog and vanish. I cannot express how much I love this place. There is so much life here. My stomach feels light.

Reach the hotel. Nice place...5 star accomodation which is most needed after an epic sleepless plane ride. Wake up, have delicious Indian breakfast, get a local cell phone #, nap, hit the gym, and I'm off to go DJ.

Promoter's car picks me up at 10pm. Party is held at a mansion on a private estate in the suburbs of New Delhi. Lots of wealthy looking 20 something kids wearing sleek shades of black. Pretty girls made up with dresses and heels.

Midnight I go on to DJ. Crowd really picks up on my style. I just let loose and played all over the map from old 70s hindi to hip hop to house for 3 hours. Glad I worked on those bhangra mashups on the plane. Girls coming up to dance next to me. Dudes steadily pouring tequila down my throat. Nice reception. I hang around for an hour after I finish and watch some drunk people try to fight but instead they just fall over alot in the grass.

Jan 1...

Leave the placid hotel fortress and hit the dirty streets of Delhi to take a dip into the realness. Meet my friend Shaleen Singh - Video documenter, MC, b-boy, graff writer, and hip hop promoter. Chill at his house, check out some of his great artwork and hilariously insightful video documentaries on the local perception of hip hop in India.

Jan 2...

I figured out the best way to acquire music today. I was in a taxi and the driver was blasting the sickest old hindi music. So I asked him how much he bought the CD for (50 rupees) and gave him 100. In India all I need to do now is stand in the street and listen for sounds blaring out of stalls and rickshaws... then go up to people and jack their shit. I feel like I've reached the zen of sampling. My new fav track is Anu Malik - Sexi Sexi Mujhe Log.

Jan 3...

Now staying in Gurgaon. Went to the grimiest market in Delhi, Paharagansch Market. Nasal overload. Sweet savory street foods, sewage, incense, and burnt garbage. A healthy blend of Indian hustlers and vagabond hippies. Sung Sexi Sexi mujhe log lyrics to a bicycle rickshaw driver and scared him away. Had a deep argument with a vendor, trying to convince him he should accept my 50 rupee note torn in half as 25 rupees (jokingly). Went to a cool Indian musical instrument shop. Later meet up with friends and go to a nightclub that played house music. Shaleen catches tags.

Jan 4th and 5th...

Organize next week's trip to Bangalore which is on a plateau in South India, where Akshai Sarin and I will travel the countryside and record local folk and classical musicians, then set up a small studio at his country house and produce music.

Jan 6...

Spun a few records at a house party, Drank too much. Way too much. Woke up, stood up dizzy and found a handful of french fries in my pocket. (Insert Napoleon Dynamite tater tot joke here).

5pm the next day take a bicycle rickshaw for 40 minutes through bumpy pothole ridden back roads. The guy is working so hard he has to pedal standing up. The air is chilly, smokey, and spicey. Horns from motorcycles, buses and cars... we pass servants, construction workers, poor kids, rich people with european glasses. The sky is calm. It's dark out because there aren't streetlights. It's so brisk and rustic outside here, this is the heartland of north India. Life is slow, people do their work and try to get by. My thoughts wander... He wants 40 rupees (less than a dollar) for all that hard work. Yet oddly for half the way he talked on his cell phone. I tip him very generously and he blesses me.

Jan 8...

Brainstorm on some ideas with IshQ for his next music video which will feature a high profile Bollywood star. Have phone meetings with other collaborators and industry people. Lots of work awaits in Bombay. If I've learned anything working my way up the ranks (and I still am of course) it is that working smart is more productive than working hard blindly. The projects I accept (and choose not to accept) this year will sculpt my career and life. So I'll end this post by saying something very Indian: "What to do yaaaaaar?"

Chris McGuinness: Brooklyn to Bombay

Week One