So we like looking at people. That’s what I wrote earlier on. But what I prefer is talking to them. Unfortunately, the economical difference between poor people and me causes troubles in contact. This problem has become very acute during this India tour.

There are lots of beggars here, of course I knew that before I came. Also, I was instructed not to give them anything, not even go buy food for them, because they will find a way to convert it into money and do bad things with it, like bring it to their bosses, who control gangs of beggars, people that sometimes have been mutilated to facilitate successful begging. We see a lot of deformed people here. It’s for crying out loud, and most of the time I cannot resist giving some money. But what I find really tragic is the fact that begging seemingly is part of poor man’s culture here. They all seem to do it! No matter what they do for you: point you the way, walk up with you, ask your name, age, country, family or background, they will hold up their cupped hand afterwards. This contaminates every possible contact, because it reduces my openness. I cannot relate to people if they act unequal to me. I don’t want to be treated like a mobile money dispenser. Is this an Indian thing, or have I just become more sensitive to it?

During the 6 hour drive from Chennai to Bangalore, I find some time to look back at the past few days. It’s not easy to type…our car bounces up and down and from right to left in the crazy Indian traffic. Not that I’m complaining; this is the only stretch that we do by car, all the other trips we have done comfortably by air.

On Thursday (the day after we visited the blind school) we arrive at Fisherman’s Cove, a luxurious resort at the seaside not far from Chennai. Friday night we play an open air concert at the beach. But first we go into town and visit a school for deprived children. The two events are a good example of my experience here in India: a big contrast between rich and poor.

When we arrive everything is set up; a nice tent has been set up to make a nice shady place for the kids. From the stage we overview the muddy fields. It’s great to play for the children and we explain them about our music, about our instruments and play some musical games with them.  After the show they come up to us and can’t stop asking us all kind of questions.

The next day we arrive at the well prepared stage on the beach. Around 45 (!) men are running around to prepare everything for the night. The place looks stunning; from the stage we look over palm trees, the beach and of course the sea. But we wonder how it will sound. There is a lot of wind, so it is hard to turn our sheet music and we literally have to play against the wind. Because of security reasons this concert is not as open as we would have liked, and it turns out that a lot of guests have come more for each other (and the food and drinks) then for the music. Despite the ongoing talking in the background there is a small crowd enjoying and responding loud to the music.

It is the moving in and out of these different worlds that makes this trip not only a musical but also an emotional experience. India is a country that is developing fast and a lot of people have become wealthy in a short time. The majority though doesn’t seem to profit. I’m glad we have performed for this group. I’m sad about their predicament. Ivar

Travelling with a group of male musicians means - besides a few other things of lesser importance - looking at and commenting on people, more particularly women. Currently, we are a group of eight, three more than what I am used to. This results in a cumulative percentage of women talks. It is not 3/8 (37,5%) more. The total amount of interactions in a group of eight is much more, also the ones of this kind. With Calefax we are five, so the number of possible interactions is 1+2+3+4=10. The Tony Overwater Trio added however, interactions accumulate to 1+2+3+4+5+6+7= 28. An increase of 64,3%! I don’t know why men do it, but recently my wife has had a couple of days out in Paris with seven other women, and she told me they do the same. Nothing to worry about…! Surely the talking prevents the acting. We are getting our share of female beauty here, but funnily enough I am particularly taken by the Indian men. It is not difficult to understand why they are so successful, not only with women, on a global scale. They are good-looking and well-groomed, they have an elegant style, a tender mixture of Asian smoothness and British coolness and they are generally very educated. We all try to copy their sweet wiggling of the head as sign of approval. If it is true that we reincarnate, please let me become an Indian man. Raaf

Hyderabad is a city of contrasts. 500 years ago a Persian sjah met an Indian princess in Hyderabad. He decided to stay and live there. And conquer the place. Why not. He was there anyway. After a big plague because of which 4000 people died our good ruler built a monument for this. The Char Minar. It stands in the middle of an important crossing of roads between different routes from Asia to the Middle East, just outside one of the four gates to the old city of Hyderabad. One gate is for the poor people, one for the traders, one for higher placed people and one for the travellers. It is a nice symbol of the many different worlds that make out this city, and India at large. So many different worlds are living separately together in this city. The extreme variety of people and contrasting cultures give way to likewise emotions.

Our stay in the wonderful Taj Krishna hotel is a delight, we feel like the band of Duke Ellington that stayed in similar wonderful old fashioned hotels in the sixties. The kind of hotels that remind you of old movies. We have a beautiful concert in one of the large halls of the hotel. A very dedicated audience listens to our set that night. Some of the members in the audience actually have heard the concert of Duke Ellington in 1963. It gives me goosebumps to hear them speak about the concerts of the Duke Ellington Orchestra. Duke Ellington himself was not at these concerts in Hyderabad, he was replaced by Billy Strayhorn. The reason why the Duke wasn’t there is subject to many rumours. In his autobiography ‘Music is my Mistress’ the Duke himself gives the least romantic explanation. The Delhi Belly kept him in New Delhi. In other words, food poisoning. Some of the things that didn’t change in India. At least 3 of our members already had this during this week.

After our concert we have a meeting with local musicians. A wide variety. An Indian flute player, tabla player, and a man on a slide guitar who customized the instrument to make it sound more Indian. We play a raga. But who would have thought later on we would end up jamming ‘Quanta na mera’ with a calypso Band from Sri Lanka? A mixture of Raga’s, cha chas and calypsos and of course ‘Yesterday’ from the Beatles with Kate the Australian singer who sings in the bar of the hotel. Why not. Music transcends all barriers.

Our organiser was kind enough to make last minute arrangements for us. We felt we should also play for ordinary Indians. Most people from lower classes can not come to our concerts because of the strict anti terrorism rules nowadays. (It was actually a hotel of the same chain as ours that was attacked recently in Mumbai). At very short notice he found a school for blind children from poor families that were open for a concert and workshop. Because of the Holi festival. The festival is a celebration of the disappearance of the devil, a colourful event where people throw paint and coloured powder at each other. In this colourful country this is an even more colourful day. Many young people walk around painted in bright greens, pinks and blues.

We are really happy to go to this school. We spend some hours there playing music, explaining about our instruments, listening to their songs and doing musical games with them. Wim plays a rhythm and they copy it. They have lots of fun with it, speeding up the tempo, slowing down. It’s a great event.

At the end I really don’t feel like leaving. The kids are playing ball games with rattling balls and we have lots of fun looking at them. After the head of the school thanks us in a beautiful speech, one of the teachers thanks us as well and starts crying and saying she is so grateful we came. I nearly started crying with her. When we drove back to our hotel, it was quiet. Everybody in his own thoughts. A mixture of sadness and happiness. Sad to leave them and not being able to do more for them. Happy because they seem to be in good hands there. The wonderful staff of the school radiates love and devotion for these children. Being blind and from poor families, they still seem to be much better off than all the children we see begging in the streets.

India, a land of contrasts, conflicting thoughts and puzzled emotions.

Tony

The city called Agra has a special meaning to me, because a big bass clarinet solo in one of the movements of the Far East Suite  is called after Agra. In that city there is the Taj Mahal, a world famous monument with incomparable beauty. And we’re going to visit it!Of course I hope that, by seeing the Taj Mahal, I get a new perspective which will help me to play the solo even better. Just outside the city of Agra a man enters the bus jolly introduces himself as our host for the day. We didn’t expect him of course, but he assures us that he will not charge us any costs, because we are his guests. By the way, his name is Cash. I don’t care, as long as he tells me everything I need to know about the Taj. The bus brings us to a parking place where we change to another bus which drives on electricity. This is for not damaging the building. It brings us to the gate, where we are attacked by the local population who also wants to help us, but, pity them, we already have a guide. Cash tells us about the origin of the Taj Mahal: built as a Mausoleum in the 17^th century, etc., etc. The marble is etc., etc. I absorb everything he says and wonder if I ever saw anything more beautiful than this. The Taj Mahal changes colour several times a day and even after a shower it seems to have a special beauty.   “The Taj Mahal has many faces”,  Cash concludes his story. We comfortably sit down and watch the building for almost an hour. We see a group of monkeys walk across the square, a small boat on the river as the Taj changes color in the sunset.During the five hour car drive back to Delhi I wonder if my solo will have changed. Jelte

 During the first days of tour in India we stay in a hotel which is situated on the side of a beautiful park in Delhi. It is a perfect way to get a smooth introduction to the Indian way of life. In the middle of the park there is a mausoleum from the 17^th century, around that there are trees and stretches of grass. Indian people are taking a nap, reading a book or just chit-chat. The most beautiful bird sounds make the image complete.  It’s peace man!  We haven’t got a lot of time in Delhi but there is time enough to visit The Red Fort, one of the touristic sites. A rikshaw should take me there in half an hour. The broad lanes get narrower and the traffic more chaotic as we approach the city centre. I showed my driver a picture of my destination so I’m sure he’ll take me to the right place. Meanwhile all kinds of transportation are fighting for priority. The bigger, the better and also a big horn will help. It’s a way of enforcement.The way back to the hotel is tricky, because how to choose a reliable rikshaw driver when everybody looks reliable. Of course a get a lot of help, but I don’t get the impression that  the people know the address of our hotel which I wrote on a piece of paper. What doesn’t help either is the fact that I don’t recognize a thing.  It’s the same every time I visit a new city: My eyes see so many new things that the only things I seem to remember are moving objects and big advertisements. Not very handy for a reliable sense of direction. To me everything looks alike. Just after a few days my eyes seem to relax and I’m starting to recognize details. As for now: the driver does his best and after a lot of questioning he brings me to the gate. I’m remembering the entrance.  Greetings, jelte       

This morning Erwin and I promised each other to get up early and go to the park to do some Yoga and exercises (i am more into Taichi). We managed to get up at 7, beating our jetlags and we strolled to the park. In the park we came across this group of people doing exercises. They invited us warmheartedly and we accepted the offer willingly. But by then the exercises were done and we were sitting down crosslegged on the cold morning grass.  A young lady arrived sat down on a little raiser and started leading us into a meditation. Half English, half hindi.

Thank god we could understand the English part. It was great to sit there, sinking into an unexpected meditation. Surrounded not only by the people who joined this meditation but also many other Indians doing there morning excercises. ranging from traditional Yoga, regular sit-ups, jogging with a loud radio in their hand, people doing some kind of laughing meditation, some people just having breakfast. Everybody emerged in there own morning rituals. It was hard to keep my eyes shut and keep my concentration on my Heart Charkra. I was too curious to see all that around me and too excited to be part of this all. Then the meditation changed into a service, a reflection, all in Hindi. We sat there for at least another 30 minutes just listening to her sweet voice. Not understanding a word. It turned out to be her Holiness Didi. One of the many enlighted people in India. And wether I believe in that or not, I was touched by her presence and by the whole situation. Believing is not even that relevant. Experiencing is the only thing counting at that moment. It was beautiful although I was shivering in the morning breeze and my legs were REALLY starting to cramp up. Not being used or sit like that for an hour. But I was delighted and I smiled all day (something that for the people that know me is really hard to believe).

I smiled and rejoiced even more at night. When we had our first official concert in Delhi. An open air concert at the IIC right next to the park. During the quiet moments of the concert we could hear the parc and it’s birds, the city, cars, sirens. All adding up to a great concert where we finally took ‘the Bluebird of Delhi’ home. This composition from Billy stayhorn never sounded so right at home and so inspired as this night.

For me this was an historical concert, a memorable night and day. A moment I will remember forever.

Tony

After a short night we have a full day of workshops ahead of us. Today we are leading a workshop for members and guests of the India International Centre. At the breakfast table Anand proudly shows us a full page article in Time Out Delhi with a picture and an interview about the project with Tony and myself. The breakfast takes ages (only our friend Anand manages to get some toast and tea within a minute… ) and also setting up the room takes a long while (the truck with the drumkit got stuck in the traffic that appears to be problematic, and not only at this time of day). It is good to find out that it’s not only us that have a slow start today, also the audience comes in bit by bit and doesn’t seem surprised that we are still setting up our gear.

We introduce ourselves by playing Tourist point of view, part 1 of the Far East Suite by Duke Ellington. It is a very extraordinary experience to play this music here and now. This music expresses perfectly my feelings at this moment: of being overwhelmed by the experience of being in a completely different culture and world, of the excitement and joy of being in this world. Playing this music I see Duke Ellington sitting in his touringcar in 1963, looking out the window full of wonder. I realize he never played this music here, since he only wrote it after coming back from his Far East Tour. I feel privileged to be a messenger to bring over the inspiration that he and I experience in this moment.

And then the questions come: after my demonstration of the range of my clarinet; was that 3 octaves and 6 tones you just played?, after Raaf’s explanation about saxophone mouthpieces; in what way are you using the technique of circular breathing and in what way is it different on each instrument?, after Tony’s explanation about chord schedules; how do you manage to find a balance between counterpoint and harmony?, after Erwin’s explanation about improvisation; what about introspection? And so on and on and on. All people present in the audience take active part in the day and after lunch everybody rushes back into the room to continue. The people are extremely appreciative of our explanations and demonstrations.

We finish the day with a public rehearsal on a piece that came in just before our departure: Caravan in Style by the Libanese composer Claude Chalhoub. The people are swinging their heads in Indian style on the Middle Eastern patterns of Chalhoubs music. This is why we are here! After the workshop I take a walk in the Lodhi Park, next to the Centre. Listening to the birds, enjoying the late afternoon sun, I feel completely at the right place and I’m looking forward to tomorrows (open air) concert. Tomorrow is by birthday, and I can’t think of a better present.

After a 7 hour flight from Amsterdam the Far East Revisited team has arrived in Delhi just before midnight. India! The most exciting part of the project so far, also the country where Ellington and his band played the most concerts back in 1963. The tour organiser, mister Anand, picks us up from the airport, and has arranged three cars for the group + double bass. Most of us fit in the colourful taxi’s,

but Raaf and I have the honour to drive with Anand in his private car. This is a brand new Mercedes, driven by ‘James’. It’s a half hour ride during which Anand impresses us with his notorious knowledge of random facts. ‘Where do you live?’ he asks me. -In Amsterdam, near the Concertgebouw, I reply. -Ah, which direction if I would face the Rijksmuseum? -Eh, you’d need to go right then, in the so called Van Baerlestraat. -Yes I know that street.. you mean direction of Café Wildschut? -Yes sir, and you take the third street to your right! -So, I could as well take tram 3 or 16? - - I am flabbergasted. How does he know?!? Are all Indians like this!? We will find out soon.
We drive through a posh residential area where all the embassies are located. ‘Look, that’s the Dutch embassy, watch carefully - you should know where your tax money is going!’.

The hotel is fine, Anand even brought a box of beer, which tastes great in the back garden. After one bottle we realize it is past 2 am local time, and hit the hay as we are supposed to give workshops tomorrow morning.
AW

We’re packed and sacked. Full of new energy, new compositions, and even a new bandmember. India is one of our big dreams at Far East Revisited. Here it all started. Here Duke Ellington played with his band and wrote most of his Far East compositions. Here Strayharn heard the bluebird sing in New Delhi. And here Anand Singh Bawa, our organiser, heard the Duke Ellington orchestra, twice! On a trip I made with the Yuri Honing Trio to the Taj Mahal in Agra the idea of the Far East Revisited was born. Mister Singh Bawa inspired me with his stories. And right than I knew, this is where I want to go, this is where the Far East Suite needs to be played. Because Ellington never played it here. He just wrote it but only years later he recorded the music.

I am excited, honoured and relieved that this tour is now finally going to India. Please follow us the coming weeks as we will keep you updated on our adventures.

Tony Overwater

Using only raw material recorded at the concerts in China, I have made a little remix.Thanks to Wim Kegel for providing the raw audio!Enjoy.

remix

a video impression of our bus trip into Guangzhou.

This tour has been a great event. For all of us. In many ways this tour has been a meeting. A meeting of cultures, of music, of musicians, of ages.

Never before did I travel in such a big group. Eight musicians and three or four organisers, one or two of the local universities and Irene and Xianghua of Wu Promotion. Although Calefax and my trio met before many times, we never actually traveled together. Tours like this make you either drift apart or get closer. With all the travelling, stress, fatigue and changing conditions you really get to know each others lesser flattering sides. It was great to realize that we became one group instead of two right from the start. Each musician naturally taking his place and responsibility in the group. The first few days we were wondering whether we should appoint a leader or central spokesperson but before we knew it everything worked out organically in a quite democratic way. Important decisions were taken centrally or by small subgroups, depending on the subject. For me it was a great lesson in sociology.

Musically we also grew much closer. During some of our many meals together we would discuss improvisation, harmony, studying and many other things. These Calefax guys are so disciplined rehearsing and studying that it also inspired the trio to get into new music. Almost every day we rehearsed together, made new arrangements, adjusted old ones. It was like music lab on the road.

Meeting new guest musicians every day was great. In one or two hours, but usually less we had to prepare a new piece that would go the same night, with musicians we didn’t even know by name and instruments we’ve never seen. ‘Just call me Vincent.’ or ‘You can call me Mary’; they would usually say, as they are used to do with foreigners who will probably not be able to remember, let stand pronounce there Chinese names. We tried several times which usually ended up with an audience shamelessly laughing at us.

After every concert we had the ever popular meet-and-greet sessions on stage. A moment to make pictures with giggling V-signing girls and boys, and of course sign many signatures which they oddly enough mispronounce as ‘ sick natures’ which leads to hilarious misunderstandings of which I will spare you the details. But the best are the conversations, the questions and the comments. With some it brings out there poetical Chinese side. One boy tells me he had a near death experience during our concert but our music drew him back to life. I was glad to be of help..

Playing for students who grow up in these turbulent times in China, a time full of changes, a society slowly opening up to other countries and ideas, is a privilege. Compared to their fellow students in Europe they are so eager to learn new things, experience new music. It was great to be able to play for them and tell them about our music. To give Ellington’s definition of jazz: jazz is freedom of ideas, and freedom of expression. A concept still under developments for most Chinese.

Music says it better than a thousand words.

During the tour in China, we saw some fascinating examples of creative English, used on various signs and marquees. The small selection of pictures below proves once again that English has truly become an international language!

When entering a restaurant, hearing and seeing all these noises and sounds of great comfort and pleasure, you know you’re in the right place to be! Because Chinese people love to let other customers know that the food is really delicious. All the things we learned in the West concerning great table-manners you can skip right away. You don’t have to worry which fork and knife you have to use to match the course of the menu because people eat with chopsticks, and one eats with everyone out of the same pots and pans that are placed on this big round glass rotating disc. When you have a problem how to handle chop sticks, and try to grab on to some meat or something slippery like fish while somebody on the other side of the table starts to turn the disc you are in big trouble. Don’t worry, there is a solution! You can use the small plate or bowl in front of you, but that shows you are not a master chopstick eater and that you have a real bad technique. Also the menu is long with a lot of choices. Choices we could never make in the West. All the standard Chinese courses known in the West are not to be found, they have different names and taste much better. The menu gives you beautiful colour pictures of the courses when you can’t make your choice, or can’t read the menu. But be careful Westerners! What looks like beef can be pig guts. Chinese don’t like to waste anything and eat therefore everything. So it happened that I coincidentally ate some parts of animals I would have never tried at home. Like pig tongue ( Chinese believe by eating this, they become very eloquent speakers), not bad. Pig-neck, pig-feet, frogs, waterlily( super!), and much more. If you really show you are freaked out by eating this, give a big burb! Do you find something in your mouth that feels uncomfortable, like chicken-bone, just spit it out and wipe it under your dish. When the food is too spicy and your nose starts running, snotter and blow your nose; tissues are all over the table. Suck the noodles out of the bowl while you slurp the soup. Great fun and everything tastes great. The great advantage Chinese people have to us ( not to me, but in general)  is that they are absolutely not disturbed or irritated by other people’s behaviour, and I like them for that. I bought a Chinese cookbook, I am sure I’m going to use it for the rest of my life. Wim

Here are the results of unbiased, profound  and scientific research on Chinese linguistics regarding the widely spread misuse of the letters l and r. It is commonly known that the Chinese have difficulty pronouncing them, however they do have these sounds in their own language.

Words and names with syllables ending on an l are pronounced thus:
football – foot bore
hotel – hot air
concert hall – concert whore
gentlemen – gender men
Alban – Arban
Jelte – Jerte
Wim Kegel – Wim Cake air

Names with syllables starting with an r:
Maurice Ravel  - Maurice Love air
Bolero – bo le lah
Raaf – La fuh  (f is not favored as a closing consonant, so a random sound is added [but I’m not complaining: fuh means prosperity])

Words that sometimes cause problems . The pronunciation of these words  depend on whether the l is regarded as closing or starting a syllable:
No problem – no peroberem or no ploblem
Calefax – Carefax or Calefax
Trio – tlio or terio

names that do not cause problems:
Maarten
Ivar
Oliver
Tony Overwater

These examples support my earlier assumption (publ. in my thesis for De CaleFAX Sept. 2007) that the Chinese prefer the l as a starting consonant and the r as a closing one.

Dr. Raaf Hekkema

Since we travel a lot as musicians, it’s logical a suitcase is due to break at some point. Mine did actually break just before we left for this China tour. But hey, you’re going to the country where everything is being made anyway, so that’s the place to buy one, one would say. So the very first evening off, I went to the centre of Shanghai, asked around for some suitcases, found some suitable sizes and asked if they also had a Samsonite. The lady pointed to the suitcase of a obscure make, and said; ‘Ah, you Samsonite!…we can make it Samsonite.’ How could I forget, brands are no guarantee in China. mmm..next time I’ll ask for a Rolls Royce

Bye, Oliver

During our third concert in Guangzhou the jazz trio plays this Chinese tune with Pipa (left) and Erhu (right). Maarten Ornstein plays a spontaneous solo, the audience loves it. We have a much better audio recording than this one, but it takes too much time to put this together professionally. Hope this gives an impression! AW

At the moment we’re in Guangzhou where we are doing four concerts at the Sun Yat Sen University.We are flying home after Guangzhou and I want to buy some presents for my family, so it’s now or never. Luckily we had some free time yesterday morning to visit the city centre. There is one thing I learned about cities in China and that is that every part of the city is specialized in one type of shops. There is the street where you can buy new spectacles. That street is close to the part of town where the plumbers do their work.  So when your eyes are fine and so is your water supply system, you’re in the wrong part of town, which was in the beginning my case. But wherever you are, you have to keep looking, because you can see the most extraordinarily things. The contrasts are big. In front of the tool shop there are people sitting and eating. That is because it’s the terras belonging to the restaurant next door. There was also a beautiful shop window with all kinds of pastry. His neighbor was the butcher who just cut a dog into two pieces and emptied the upper half. I don’t think the Chinese care about these things. Luckily for me after passing the tool shops there was the district with small galleries with Chinese paintings. Greetings, Jelte

The concerts in Guangzhou are all at different campusses of the Sun Yat Sen University. The campus where our hotel is situated is beautifully planted, full of nature. Very nearby there is a big lotus pond, surrounded by big palm trees. Combined with the temperature, we are having a tropical experience.

Also in the concert hall: during our rehearsal at the medical faculty the temperature is rising and rising. After three hours working ourselves in sweat, we find out they have an air conditioning system….which is good for the almost 1000 students that are starting to enter the hall. Every night here in Guangzhou we have a couple chinese solists: tonight we play the famous song Er Quan Ying Yue with the very sweet Erhu player Vincent. It is beautiful to listen to the tender expression this young boy manages to get out of this rather simple chinese folk instrument with 2 strings. The trio plays with two girls on Erhu and Pipa: starting off as traditional Chinese music, Tony, Wim and finally Maarten step in to change it into a melting pot of chinese folkjazz.

It’s also the first time this tour, that we play an encore. For this occasion Tony has made an arrangement of “Why is Flower Red?”, a well known tune, that breathes the sweet, singing harmony that the chinese like so much. After the concert I go back to the hotel…..all the chinese food is getting a bit too much for me….
Ivar

On Sunday the men in  Zhenjiang go to the park, play cards and take their singing birds out.