www.youtube.com/watch?v=JMZ8DO9F4Mo

Ok, I’ve just finished watching TAQWACORE and what’s better than penning down my fresh opinions in Monkeyrockworld? Nothing, especially as this is so much up my alley of interests. I do not want to be annoying retelling stories you may read elsewhere on the net, but in a nutshell, Eyesteel Films produced the documentary on the explosion of “Taqwacore”: what the heck is that? Muslim punk rock baby. Yep… if you can get more controversial than that, please try to explain it. Named after the famous novel “The Taqwacores” by Michael “Muhammad” Knight (which is another movie all to itself, not to be confounded with this one), TAQWACORE is the first wave of American punk bands (and well, all spectres of punk as we go from the almost ska outbursts of the Kominas to the full-on crusty sludge of Al Thawra) who earned a reputation for bringing it out on a quite impressive coast-to-coast American tour. This movie documents that trip on the “Green Van” of Taqwa (the Muslim concept of God consciousness), the reception from the American Muslim punks, a paradoxical road trip ending with a real punk performance at Chicago’s American Muslims conference. The Taqwacores really bring a spark of excitement in the otherwise dull, middle-class, plastic American punk contemporary scene by bringing new lymph into the movement. It is definitely interesting.

As a musician who has extensively toured the USA, I can relate to most of the episodes and I can say that it was not this first part of the movie who got me. Even now in this movie, America looks so flat, and dumb. I honestly cannot believe how I would have sold my mother to land a green card and live there, just 5 years ago. You don’t have to be a Muslim Islamist punk to raise the attention there, as it looks like by only flatulating you would probably get the same effect. It is extremely funny how the Taqwacores use this “paranoia” to make fun of the media and their attention to this new “revolution”. This makes everything look so inspiringly “punk”, to me, today. Also it looks quite indicative  that the movie has been produced by a Canadian company… as if the subject matter would be good to be touched, but only with a stick.

Anyhow, the BEST part of the movie is actually when two of the Kominas‘ guys leave the USA to relocate to their ancestors’ land, PAKISTAN. The images of the country are beautiful, and may prove to be extremely shocking to the average American or Western viewer, but not for me, not anymore. Well, the guys form a new band, they fly Michael Knight in, and they manage to organize a show on top of one of Lahore’s city center buildings avoiding South Asia’s cast differences, and giving it back to anyone in the truest punk movement of the whole movie. Seeing Knight screaming “Bush is a son of a bitch” in Urdu, however quite jaded elsewhere, looks pretty apt here.

My critics are essentially two, tough: firstly, it seems like these Kominas guys cannot do anything but getting high on excellent Pakistani hash and slurping weed milkshakes before Knight’s arrival. Although I’d probably like to taste the same stuff, I just think this makes the whole “movement” appear idiosyncratic just to the lowest form of punk “rebellion”. Getting high is great, but takes you nowhere, especially in a country with zero punk history such as Pakistan. Second, this Michael Muhammed Knight, doesn’t have the grip I imagined. As a Muslim, and as “Imam of the Taqwacores”, he loses his discourse into too much portrait of Americanism I guess he originally tried to distance himself from by writing “The Taqwacores” . Although he is a brave young man carrying on a torch and making an impact, I am unsure how to explain myself; my feelings come from years of observation of behaviors totally embedded in most American rock musicians, of all passes of life, which I sensed in Knight. I though he, once in Pakistan, should have left ol’ Sam’s ghost back home… instead, I could really feel it was still there, haunting the grounds.

Anyhow, you HAVE TO watch this movie as it is a document and a proof that something, in rock and American society, is moving and changing. Hopefully I’ll be able to follow up the investigation on music in Pakistan as I plan to visit next year. Any information, query or contact regarding Pakistani bands, musicians or artists, please send them my way.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=hBoMVvvs5ss

Colgo l’occasione di una curiosa notizia riguardo l’uscita di un film sull’ultimo non-libro di Tiziano Terzani, “La Fine e’ il Mio Inizio”. Ironicamente, ma nemmeno tanto vista la biografia di questo personaggio al quale solo la Germania ha dato una possibilita’ di “formarsi” come giornalista di trincea e non solo a cavallo degli avvenimenti storici piu’ significativi degli oscuri anni ’70, il film non e’ italiano, ma ovviamente una produzione tedesca. E che cosa potevamo aspettarci? Incollo il trailer da vedere e gustare nella versione nazi sprachen, aspettando con curiosita’, sperando come molti di voi che non sia l’ennesima cagata. Succede spesso quando si tratta di adattare un’opera letteraria, soprattutto una di tale valore e complessa realizzazione come “La Fine e’ il Mio Inizio”.

Ma… sto scrivendo in Italiano? Si. Per una volta tanto, sento il bisogno di usare questa linguaccia poetica e decadente per esprimere quel che la notizia di un film sul Tiziano nazionale mi ha sconvolto dentro. Questo articolo vuole innazitutto ringraziare Tiziano perche’ e’ probabilmente anche per colpa sua se mi sono convinto a partire per la Cina nell’ormai lontano autunno 2007, pressato da un’estate di parole snocciolate nell’ora e mezza di treno tra Voghera e Torino, fatta quasi quindicinalmente, una spola tra un borgo merdoso e una citta’ non meno merdosa, ma piu’ colorata di extracomunitari, prostitute, mouth niggers (per chi non lo sa, le slot machines umane di via Nizza; gli metti una monetina in una mano, e ti sputano una pallina di cocaina infagottata nella plastica nell’altra) e personaggi di vari livelli di umano grandore o squallore.

Quelle parole che scorrevano veloci tra le mie pupille e il cervello, mentre l’aria pregna di umori di grano e erba appena tagliata sbuffava grossa dentro la pancia metallica del treno, lo scompartimento fumatori, quello piccolino, in cui non si poteva fumare piu’ ma che mi dava un senso di sicurezza, di esclusione, di non dover aver a che fare con la gente che saliva e scendeva. Quei discorsi di Asia messi sulla carta grigina e ruvida dei tascabili mi incuriosivano. Al punto che le giornate passate a macinare chicchi di espresso e lustrare il bancone del bar sbirciando di sottecchi le tette rifatte dell’alta borghesia Pino Torinense prendevano una strana connotazione atemporale. Una piscina gettata su un acro di terreno che avrebbe potuto essere ovunque. Mi incuriosiva particolarmente il discorso che Tiziano faceva sul Laos e la Birmania, paesi virtualmente ancora incontaminati e puri (gran balle, lo scoprii dopo, ma e’ colpa dei miei tempi, non dei suoi), mentre mi spaventava il discorso Cina dove sarei finito poco dopo… ma d’altronde cosa ci si aspetta da uno che e’ stato arrestato ed espulso da un paese che ha idealizzato ed amato cosi’ tanto, se non un libro pieno di rimorso e critica senza troppo bagliore?

In ogni modo, oggi, dopo quasi tre anni, mi sento di citare queste parole di Tiziano alle quali penso quasi quotidianamente, sbirciando a volte la quindicina di metri che separa il mio terrazzo dal suolo pieno di pantegane, la’ in fondo, computando le distanze e variabili del salto e traendone dati statistici terrificanti. No, non voglio suicidarmi, non preoccupatevi. Mi diverte solo immaginare tutte le varie possibilita’, e dato che la porta del mio attuale, bellissimo (il piu’ bello che abbia mai avuto) appartamento da’ sui fili dei panni per asciugare, un disastrato palazzo asiatico in lenta decomposizione dirimpetto, una pagoda cinese bianca al lato e la meravigliosa natura che se ne esce con una dorsale collinare verde verde, ma inquinata dal folle (ed esteticamente impersonale e orribile) sviluppo edilizio asiatico, il salto e’ la prima cosa che mi viene da pensare, prima di svoltare a destra, verso la tromba delle scale.  Non abbiamo l’ascensore, qui… e’ un quartiere popolare malese. No fancy KL fake western lifestyle deconstruction for me, please.

“Il mio nome, il mio lavoro, la mia nazionalita’, tutto quello a cui un tempo sarei ricorso per definirmi, non mi parevano piu’ i miei. Non mi riconoscevo piu’ in quei pezzi d’identita’. Mi ci sentivo intrappolato. Certo: erano parte della vita che avevo fatto, la vita di cui avevo goduto, ma erano anche i pezzi della vita che mi aveva portato prima alla depressione, poi al resto, e il lasciarmi tutto alle spalle per avviarmi verso qualcosa di completamente nuovo era un vero sollievo” (Tiziano Terzani, “Un Altro Giro di Giostra” 2004 Longanesi, p. 335)

E’ questo che mi viene da pensare oggi, dopo alcuni mesi in cui ogni decisione e ogni aspettativa si sono trasformate nell’esatto contrario di quel che avrei voluto. Come qualcuno potrebbe dire, “il Monkey soffre di depressione”. Gia’, esatto. Bisogna sempre avere un piano B, e quello per amor del cielo ce l’ho quasi sempre, ma alle volte, e’ dura. Mi ricordo una volta si parlava di un amico che era “emigrato” da Voghera a Roma per vivere con una ragazza. Si diceva che per lui non era molto facile, perche’ quando litigava con la sua bella, e questa lo sbatteva fuori di casa, Voghera e la famiglia non erano dietro l’angolo. Quando ci penso da qua, mentre la pioggia tropicale si abbatte sui tetti come le carezze sessuali di Hulk, mi si inclina il lato sinistro della bocca in un gran sorriso diabolico, e una mano nera mi stringe il cuore, facendomi sanguinare dentro quattro o cinque gocce amare, di colore trasparente. Ma le lacrime dagli occhi non escono piu’, mai, anche se ci provo sempre, a piangere. E’ una maledizione che dura da tre anni. Non riesco a piangere piu’, e non perche’ sono un vero uomo, ma perche’ forse non ho piu’ il potere di controllare quelle emozioni.

La depressione del viaggiatore, o la depressione di chi e’ fermo da troppo tempo in un posto lontano, sta scombussolando i pensieri e i piani della mia corrente esistenza. Mi curo con poco riposo, una continua polluzione mentale di idee e progetti, e una fame di ignoto che mi rode l’animo. Gia’, non potrei appunto chiamarla una cura. Allora alle volte mi metto a leggere e a cercare di imparare altre cose, altre cose nuove, e  arimuginare su quelle vecchie, e mi ritrovo nelle parole di Tiziano che ho citato poco sopra. E le convenzioni con cui usavo definirmi, appunto, non mi paiono piu’ le mie. In un certo senso sono una trappola dalla quale sento il dovere di reinventarmi, ancora una volta, non trovando pero’ la nuova forma preferita.

Diciamocelo tra noi, Tiziano. O chiunque altro abbia pensato di pensare alla propria situazione, in viaggio o meno. La cosa migliore e’ sempre affrontare il domani cominciando con una grande risata. Mai come ora che dovrei essere e sentirmi libero, mi sento in gabbia. Mi sento quasi come quando ero a Voghera nella mia stanza e sparavo il volume cosi’ alto che il vicino batteva sul muro. Spero che questa sia una fine, e ci sia presto un nuovo inzio. Scrivo queste cose perche’ sono sereno e dopo una tempesta, ho bisogno di fissare sul foglio e condividere con chi mi ama e chi mi odia qualcosa che, per me, non puo’ essere concepita con nessun migliaio di kilometri di nessun viaggio. Si capisce solo se, capendo il proprio ruolo in questo teatro di caproni, si decide di scendere dal palco e prendere la via d’uscita del cinema, e iniziare a camminare lontano, in quella stradina che non ti verrebbe voglia di intraprendere nemmeno se ti ci accompagnasse tua madre tenendoti per mano, da bambino. Questo mi veniva in mente leggendo i libri di Tiziano, e spero che questo film possa, anche se lo dubito al momento, descrivere seppur lateralmente questo sentimento che pare solo pochi siano capaci, o anche solo inclini,  di provare. Lo aspetto quindi con trepidazione, e che sia un buon esempio, per tutti…altrimenti leggete il libro, che fa pensare abbastanza.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZigR9wZyuU

A little tribute collection of train rides, overnight and not, from my Indian trip in April 2010. It seemed important and funny to give a visual aid to understand the sheer fun of it… train was the transportation I mostly used, and I don’t regret any single trip I took. It is safe, relatively fast and hassle free (once you have purchased a ticket ) and mostly, it allows you to enjoy the scenic countryside views and meet real local people. I strongly suggest you travel in India using the train, and please enjoy my little video tribute to my Indian train adventures. They also make an incredibly cheap overnight hotel, remember!!

It’s been a long time since I updated Monkeyrockworld. Why? Because I have spent a month in India, and I have been busy, and I didn’t bother thinking  about this stupid website, for all that matters. It seems like some people are getting offended or puzzled by what I try to say, so, better to shut the fuck up and enjoy my own time and my life, rather than trying to be the idiot Messiah of Independent Travel.  Honestly, today especially, in this hazy day interrupted by little showers of hot rain, after an airport pick up at 6 am and another late morning sleep to try to help with the recent lack of it, I just don’t care. I started thinking, as always, though, and I got nostalgic. I saw the little alien with the big head occupying the best part of my right arm, pointing a laser gun at my sorry ass face still encrusted with the dirt of sleep, and I remembered why I am a Monkey Motherfucker. My cultural roots are all over the place in the best extremities the world had to offer, and since it appears most of you are too busy hiding your heads into your own asses when it comes to talk about modern world and travelling, I’ll try to give you a Sunday shot of past awesomeness. Because you gotta understand the past, to understand the present, they say.

The woman in the picture is Lina Romay , wife of seminal Spanish director Jess Franco and 70s sexploitation, and of course porn, actress. She is just awesome and beautiful and she acted in some of the best, weirdest, most perverse and evil movies ever made.  This is where I come from, and this is where I think I’m going back, these days. I think I would like to share more of these things, for the unaware people. And more extreme music, too. Another thing which, apparently, is now coming back into my life.

This is the trailer for Vampyros Lesbos (1970), another seminal Jess Franco’s movie, starring Soledad Miranda, another woman literally to die for. Check it out and enjoy… it is a movie I really love and consider one of the masterpieces of 70s European cinema. I really hope some of you readers are already familiar with these things, if not, this might be an enlightening peek to start digging back. Enjoy your Sunday, I surely will, since Kit Yeng came back and we have quite a lot to catch up with. For the India writings, well… you better wait.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=032XmaYcl4s

It’s good sometimes to discover that somewhere people are still doing good horror movies. And it’s not America!! This time is Thailand.
In a time when the Star Striped movie industry is dying on its last legs and “borrowing” (to say the least offensive) here and there, especially from the Asian markets, it’s quite inspiring to find that the source of if not original, at least brilliant thrills, is now centered in the East.Phobia 2 (5 Praeng) is the follow up to 4Bia and, like a fall 00′s  Creepshow, is composed by 5 different episodes shot by different directors. Wisoot Poonworraluck, Songyos Sugmakanan, Paween Purijitpanya, Banjong Pisanthanakun, Parkpoom Wongpoom are the cream of the crop of Thai horror, and have already shot very good and scary movies like Shutter, Alone, Dorm and the first experiment of this serie, 4Bia.

We found this movie by chance at the local DVD store. Kit Yeng is often looking for cheap video thrills, so she pointed me the cover of this one, and honestly looking at it I didn’t give it a chance, but we got it anyways. Once at home, and realized that this was a movie made up of several episodes (an idea that, don’t know why, always excited me, being a fan of short stories), I looked up for the trailer online and I decided this movie needed an immediate try. Oh boy, I was so wrong at the dvd store!!

The first story I watched, as obvious, was Backpackers: total retarded horror movie genius. This could be a short story by Joe R. Lansdale or David Schow put into frames, with all the blood, guts and horror you can ask, and even more. God, if just this thing happened more to the real English backpackers polluting the Kingdom, I’d be the happiest man in the world.

But that was actually the third episode, so we got back o the first one, called Novice. Without spoiling the great plot, let’s just say that when a mother drops his kid at a far-flung monastery, she’s trying to do it for his own good. This story is definitely scary, and very much kudos to it because it’s the first horror story I see exploring the world on Buddhist monks and monasteries. Ace.

Second comes Ward, which is probably the weakest of the 5 episodes, but still a pretty entertaining one. Beware who you sleep with, it’s always best to sleep alone.

After Backpackers, my favorite (yeah, I love zombies man!) comes Salvage. The story’s about a woman who’s making shady business with her car dealership, re selling vehicles that have been previously torn in deadly accidents. Useless to say she’ll have to put up with more than just a pissed off client, being the ones from beyond even more pissed. Good, solid and with great special effects, among which the best is definitely the boy wrapped around a car tyre… scary!

The last of the bunch is In the End, showing the making of an Asian ghost movie that ends up terribly wrong. This last one is very funny, and ease the tension out with some good chills and laughs.

Overall, when the quality of the stories is so high, Phobia 2 definitely becomes a movie to look after and devour literally. Before it devours you. This is the time for Asian film makers to dig up the vaults of horror and make something good about it, before the sick twist disappears once again. It’s just so awe-inspiring to know that most of hese movies are available here, for so cheap, and will get my addiction fixed. Long life to blood, guts and gore!!! And kudos to Thailand… but kill off more of those backpackers, please!!!

Check out the trailer here:

I am in Myanmar (Burma) at the moment and probably forced not to work on the site for the whole lenght of my stay.

A few people know about Myanmar and fewer people know about its problems. I am not the first one to talk about this and won’t be the last, and probably not even the most prolific or interesting teller of this country’s unique segregation from the World. But while I am there living my Myanmar experience and writing about it, I want to present some videos contributed by a new friend, and a man I strongly admire.

Antonio Graceffo, an Italian American adventure writer and martial arts enthusiast, left a Wall Street finance background to literally dive into Asian adventures and languages. One of his most recent projects is a documentary called “In Shanland” : defying the Burmese government’s ban on journalists, Antonio crossed the border under the protection of the Shan State Army, and began filming interviews with IDPs (Internally Displaced Persons) within the war zone.

I am currently interviewing Antonio for Monkeyrockworld, and I thought this series of posts can be a good introduction to Myanmar, its people, and Antonio to my readers. You will definitely enjoy.