It’s mid-day and I’m sitting pensively in the corner of the village kafeneio, ‘Ελπίδα’, the Greek word for Hope – something on which to cling. It’s unusually cold for Crete, barely ten degrees even now. The sky is, a monochrome, ominous grey, so dull and dead that even Marilyn’s delicate paintbrush, would fail to bring it to life. It is raining off and on but the downpour is sufficient to turn the steep descent from our house into a bubbling stream. My feet are soaking cold – note to myself to purchase some ‘wellies’. Fortunately Giorgos has lit the wood burner, attracting into the kafeneio’s intimate confines a mix of the regular ‘lads’, a sprinkling of ‘lasses’, not to mention a quartet of spoilt and photogenic cats, seeking the comfort of my lap. In the kitchen, given it’s the weekend, the speciality of boiled goat and pilaffi is being prepared. The tasty concoction will be ready by this evening. For our part, Marilyn and I will debate whether to resist its delight and wait until Monday when a goat stifado or stew might make a magical appearance. That’s if there is sufficient goat left over from the Sunday. Should we take the risk?
Enough distracted thoughts. I’m making as usual hard work of composing a couple of things Firstly, I’m striving to engage with the tsunami of opinion in which we’re drowning and why, in the thrashing about to survive, many, it seems ‘stick to what they know’. Secondly, more pressing, in a couple of weeks, I’m giving a talk, “Free Speech In Authoritarian Times’ as a contribution to a winter series held in the old school hall of the nearby village of Kalamitsi. These exchanges are organised by Phil and Francesca Harrison, both key people across the years in stimulating the growth of a diverse cultural life in our area. For example, the two previous talks were on ‘Artificial Intelligence’ and ‘James Joyce’ respectively.
Ahead of talking freely in a fortnight I gave a concert of songs ‘a capella’ in the Gavalochori Cultural Centre a week ago. The blurb on a few home-made posters in English and Greek went as follows:
A Voice of Nostalgia: Μια Φωνή Νοσταλγία
Tony Taylor will sing without accompaniment, ‘a capella’, on Saturday, February 1st in the Cultural Centre, Gavalochori. The concert will start at 11.30 a.m. He will draw upon folk and popular music, American musical theatre and the English Renaissance.
I made a few blunders. Setting off in the wrong key has its strangulated and embarrassing results.. Whatever the audience was both supportive and participative, if, at times, a trifle out of sympathy with my tempo and interpretation. Indeed there is talk of a future nostalgic happening. Although some have suggested somewhat sarcastically that perhaps I could venture for my material into more recent decades.
By chance, Ken Carpenter, unbeknown to me, was kind enough to video and edit a number of the opening numbers. Gritting my teeth here it is.
Thinking now about the content of the recital and given my politics, I’m conscious that, apart from a brief change of verse in my tribute to the great Paul Robeson, there were no moments of rebellion. Even my one Greek number was romantic. For next time I’ve got a couple up my sleeve.
However I did find myself musing that here on Crete there is a rich, overflowing tradition of musical resistance, about which I need to understand more. Back in the kafeneio two nights ago, there erupted an impromptu evening, sustained by that wondrous instrument the lyra, where so many of those present knew the local folk songs backwards. By chance, only yesterday I tripped over this apposite piece by my favourite Appalachian philosopher, W.D.James, on the power of people’s music. It’s well worth a read.
CHATTING CRITICALLY 