Do you know who Nino is? I actually like some of his music, so this is not a criticism of him, but two thoughts come to mind when I see things like this:
a) “Get some new material” — a popular saying from one of my American friends in Athens, who is victimized by the same tired jokes or insults. There’s nothing creative or classy about ripping off other people’s ideas or repeating the same limp stuff.
b) Please, my brutha — How can a Fame Story contestant compare to international starlet Nicole Kidman?
Inspiration is one thing, as I understand originality is in short supply. But at least change something like the T-shirt color, and make it yours in some small way!
My connection with Thessaloniki grows stronger after being named Stathis‘ “favourite American in Athens” and finding out Dio of “Hate City” is from near my hometown. And speaking of hometown, how about a showcase of artists from the City by the Bay?
Or are you only here for stories about Greece?
Dead Kennedys: Political punk at its best, sparking censorship debates in the 70s and 80s. There’s always room for Jello (Biafra, that is).
“Holiday in Cambodia” (San Francisco, 1980)
The Grateful Dead: Improvisational icons of the psychedelic era, with a cult-like following of Deadheads dedicated to cosmic consciousness.
“It’s all over now, baby blue”
Cover of a Dylan song
(San Francisco, 1987)
Green Day: Unpretentious teenagers who took alternative punk rock to the streets, stayed true to goof and grit, won a Grammy. I miss the mosh pit!
“Welcome to Paradise” (East Bay/Berkeley, 1994)
Chris Isaak: Moody bluester cavorting with models and collaborating with David Lynch.
“Wicked Game” (Stockton, 1989)
Journey: Pioneers of the power ballad, kings of stadium concerts and inspiration for a generation of air guitarists. (Woo, look at the fro on Neal!)
“Anytime” (San Francisco, 197
Metallica: Speed metal masters grow up to be some kind of monsters.
“Nothing Else Matters” (L.A./San Francisco, 1991)
Primus: Self-deprecating re-inventors of prog and absurdity.
“Jerry was a race car driver” (El Sobrante, 1991)
Santana: Global rock guitar stylist morphs from group to solo artist, mambo to jazzy pop, still going strong after almost 40 years.
“Oye Como Va” (San Francisco, 1970)
Joe Satriani: Highly skilled showman and mentor of Kirk Hammett and Steve Vai.
“Time” (NY/Berkeley, 199
Tupac: Gangsta rapper from the mean streets lives on in legends, RIP.
I present a quartet of songs that bring me to tears, something I find strange because I am not a weepy person. I didn’t understand the lyrics of three songs the first time I heard them, as I understood very little Greek back then, however I believe music has the ability to transcend boundaries and touch people on many levels.
Κομμάτια/Kommatia (Pieces)
by Christos Dantis (with Martakis)
I was living near the American Embassy during this period, it was raining and this song came on the tiny radio that was my only entertainment. By the time it ended, I’d been weeping without knowing why.
While walking alone on Ag. Konstantinou a few days later, a car pulled over and a man jumped out and popped open the hood. I could see what was coming.
Man: Hello, how are you? (as I walk by)
K: Fine. (continue walking)
Man: Wait! Where are you going?
K: Home. Bye.
Man: Wait! Do you want to go for coffee?
K: No thank you, I don’t know you.
Man: Oh sorry, I’m Vasili. And you are?
K: Kat.
Man: Great, now we know each other. We can go for coffee.
K: No, because I’m busy.
Man: Ela! What will it take?
K: I’m going.
Man: Wait!
K: No thank you.
Man: I can’t take ‘no’ for an answer.
K: Clearly.
Man: What can I do to convince you?
K: How about I talk to your friend in the passenger side, and if I like his answers, then I will speak to you again, OK? And if not, I go.
Man: OK, I’ll wait here.
K: Hi, wh..?
Man 2: (Laughing and covering his face) He’s crazy, don’t go out with him.
K: Does he do this a lot?
Man 2: No, first time.
K: And how long have you known him?
Man 2: He’s my best friend, too many years.
K: Does he have a girlfriend?
Man 2: No, not for a long time.
K: What’s wrong with him?
Man 2: Look at him, many things. (Laughing)
K: Does he have a job?
Man 2: Yes, he’s a ____ .
K: Hmmm, really? My brother is a ____ .
Man 2: Maybe you should ask your brother to have a talk with him.
K: And what’s your name?
Man 2: Yannis.
K: Is his name really Vasili?
Man 2: Oh yes.
(Vasilis is hopping around, waving, looking nervous)
Man 2: You know, he saw your face as we drove by, and he said we are going to meet you. Look, it’s very traffic. We had to drive around the block many times and almost crashed the car. He’s crazy, I tell you!
K: OK, thanks.
Man: Well?
K: Fine, we can go for coffee another day.
Man: Can I offer you a ride home?
K: No thank you. I don’t get into cars with strange men.
Man 2: Ela vre!
(Just then, “Kommatia” comes on the radio)
K: Hey, I like that song.
Man: Get into the car.
K: I think I will.
Vasilis didn’t take me home, he took Yannis and me straight to Flocafe where we were forced to have coffee. Our protests were ignored, although I did eventually make it home safely.
Our first date was the first and only time any man in the world has cooked me dinner on a date, and Vasilis turned out to be very sweet and down-to-earth person. He was beauty and brains. But when his childhood sweetheart came back to entice him, he knowingly fell into another bout of inevitable heartbreak…and Vasilis and I were “kommatia.”
And did it end there? For Vasilis and I, yes. But Yannis asked me to marry him a year later, and I had to respectfully decline.
(The original is done with Dantis alone and with a voice-box during the chorus, but I could not find that version.)
Έπαψες Αγάπη Να Θυμίζεις/Epapses Agape na Thimizeis
(You stopped remembering love)
by Pix Lax
Back in the day, this classic was played at clubs during the “Greek” segment starting at 3 a.m., if the overall genre was non-Greek. Everyone knew the words, but I could only listen with my heart.
I revisited this song on the island of Aegina, where my boyfriend had taken me for a 3-day weekend. My friends were back in Athens, and I was sad that I couldn’t see them during this short visit from NYC — we always clubbed on Friday and Saturday, which of course lasted until Sunday. As a surprise, they all hopped on the ferry and met me in Aegina.
After dinner and first drinks, we went to a beachside club with plush sofas, drank, danced and gazed at the sea. Then we hopped over to Elliniko, which was ironically an American rock club. Like clockwork, this song came on at 3 a.m. and we all went crazy, sang the song together, hopped, sobbed and danced together in a group with our arms joined at the shoulders. When it was over, my friend Nick looked at me and said, “we always have more fun when you’re here.”
It was one of the best nights of my life.
I miss you, Nick.
Το Σ’ αγαπώ/To S’agapo
(The ‘I love you’)
by Michalis Hatzigiannis
Hatzigiannis’ song is the only one I could understand, and the only song associated with a relationship. For those who know the lyrics, they refer to myself and my choice to leave, thus closing a long chapter of my life and beginning anew.
Greek National anthem
by Dionysios Solomos
In February 1998, a young woman from California set foot in Greece for the first time after celebrating Carnival in Venice. It was winter, she was alone, and it was Sunday in Athens.
Vassilis Sofias closed to traffic to make way for a contingency of evzones going to Syntagma Square for the official changing, all stomping in unison, all staring straight ahead, all wearing hand-stitched uniforms steeped in historical meaning with sleeves of flowing motion. The band announced their arrival, two men deemed “the best of the week” were threaded from the group by a senior officer to “allagi” and the national anthem began to play.
While colors of blue and white waved gracefully in the wind, and I gazed upon the dichotomous marriage of young and old, modernity and tradition, present day and historical past, a powerful surge of emotion came over me, though I’d never heard the music or knew its lyrical poetry before this moment. Tears fell uncontrollably. After the evzones had turned their heads in honor toward the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, they left the square to the triumphant tune of “Evzonaki.” This was the day I vowed to make Greece my home.
For years, I made a point of going to the square every Sunday or visiting on the last Sunday during visits to Greece when I was living elsewhere against my will, but I stopped this ritual because it became impractical, although the experience is still relevant to who I am and what I feel. There was no one who cried harder at the Athens 2004 Opening and Closing ceremonies, and the same wave of emotion that came over me 10 years ago is ever present. I have no explanation for it, it just is.
So say what you like about me, call me names, swear at me, tell me I am not welcome here and to get out of Greece. I’ve heard it all before, and I don’t care. A deep-seated part of me will always love Ellada, and she and I have been and will always be inseparable.
But the day to bid her ‘goodbye’ is on the horizon, as some loves are not meant to be together. Some grow stronger when they are apart and longing, some loves are pulled back by the forces that bind only when other forces are pushing away, and some can only grow in perfection in one’s heart when the realities of daily life are no longer eating away at the soul.
Some people may be thinking, “who?” Others who know he’s a medium known singer in Greece are thinking, “why?”
Fair enough. He doesn’t have the showmanship or perceived $ex appeal of Sakis Rouvas, the smooth voice of Antonis Remos or boyish charm of Michalis Hatzigiannis, but that’s what I like about him.
He’s a normal guy — he chants liturgy at Easter like he did when he was 9 years old and performs songs of the mostly traditional genre. He doesn’t fly into a crowd on a wire, hire flashy dancers or hop around on stage with a guitar. He sings with other artists I favor, such as Yiannis Kotsiras, Dimitra Galani, Eleni Tsaligopoulou and Dimitris Mitropanos. He’s modest and unassuming. I like that too.
Some may look at him and say, “hey, he’s not that good looking.” Well, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I adore him.
And what does my fiancé think about this infatuation with the German-born Greek? Well, he knows that I’ve downloaded all the Basis videos I can find, own two CDs and watch him whenever he’s on “To Party” or “Koita Ti Egine,” but I don’t have everything he’s ever done, have never met him or seen him perform live. The latter is one of the things I’d like to do before I leave Greece.
Oh yeah, sorry…my fiancé. He seems OK with it because I’m not giddy or ridiculously obsessed, but I doubt he’ll help me dump a tray of flowers on Dimitris’ head.
“Kleino ki erxomai” (I’m closing, I’m coming) sung by Yiannis Kotsiras and Basis
“Paraponemeno Logia” (Words of Grievance) sung by Basis
Living, Working, Musing & Misadventures in Greece is an informational and personal Web site run by Kat, an American in Athens working in the EU since 1997. Take a look around, find out more About Me and Where I've Been, check out the Archives, or even get in touch via Comments, Questions and Contacting Me.
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