You know how sometimes you hear a bit of music and it sticks in your head, then you walk around all day trying to shake it. Usually it's something annoying, like my colleague who starts singing Jose Feliciano, something about laughing children. it's particularly stupid but you can wipe it from your mind with enough applications of Aerosmith. There's this piece of music that is currently driving me nuts. I keep hearing snatches of it, it sounds like Brazilian Samba music or maybe African dance music. Whatever, I've heard it before, probably on one of those Putamayo collections.
Funny enough the trend started on the morning coffee trek, while waiting for my cup of joe, it came on and the girls in the store started dancing behind the counter. I couldn't blame them, I too was tapping away. It was right there on the edge of my memory if only I could grab hold of it, it was something I'm sure Angry African would have loved, the smell of coffee brewing and laughing dark eyed girls having a moment of levity in their day.
A couple of days later it was playing in the downtown Rituals as I ducked in for a pick me up. Again, dancing girls behind the counter and on the other side, the waiting patrons also doing a little shimmy. I was the stand out, in my sober suit and high heels among a bunch of women obviously out for a day's shopping. For a moment we were all sisters, bopping away, kind of like what happens at Carnival.
Tonight, while flaked out in front of the TV watching Cold Case, a passing car, volume cranked up high in the quiet, sound blaring, and there is was again and I really wish I knew what it is was. I'm going to have to ask our office music specialist to figure it out for me. It's such a happy piece of music.
At our version of the office party, while the parang group played, as usual the denizens were surprised to see me dance. Yes Virginia, the Wallah does dance (apologies to Earl Lovelace). Though I am usually loath to make an exhibition of myself, given the opportunities to do just that in my profession, I do love to dance and like Angry African, I'll do it with the least bit of provocation. My excuse is that I'm a Trini and that's what we do, it's about the only time I subscribe to Trinism. I guess it really does not go with the black suit and four inch stilts but say what, live with it.
Maybe tomorrow morning I'll ask the nice girls in Rituals if they know what it is as we exchange our usual chat. Don't ask me to sing it, now that's one thing I cannot do at all, carry a tune to save my life. God save me, my boss has decided as one of those office bonding things, we're going to attempt karoke, over my limp twitching body. Sure, I sing in the car, when nobody else is in there and the windows are up; in my office behind closed doors; around my house while my dog looks on incredulously, probably wincing in shame, but never, ever in public, not even when drunk. I'll do the back up singers dance, but I'm lip synching like Milli Vanilli, no sound is coming out from between my lips. The only thing I ever publicly sing is the national anthem, usually in the wrong key. So now you know.
Anyway, she, the boss and the assistant boss both think it's "fun' and I'm a killjoy because i don't feel the need to submit to the "spirit". You know what ladies, carry on, I'll just lurk in the corner and watch you all make asses of yourselves thanks. Heck I used to be in theatre, notice, not any more, ditto TV. Behind the scenes is just fine for me, not because I couldn't act, because that I can, not everybody wants to stand under the spotlights.
PS I finally figured it out with some help from Wuzdescene's blog, it's Sergio Mendes Magalenha which is enjoying a second life, both from Mr. Mendes who has a 2008 version, the one I remember is on a VINYL album belonging to the X-man's mother and on a Putamayo CD, and the remixed version by some or other DJ.