- Every month, In Record Time, features a prominent Goan personality in the field of art, media, lifestyle, and culture, and takes a look at their all-time favourite records.
It would be too much of a cliche if I were to say that music was the only thing that got me through the years. I was ten when we moved out of our beachside home in Goa for a house in Bhedshi, a village 2 hours out across the border with Maharashtra. It was a very sudden change in lifestyle. Toilets and electricity were luxuries only some could afford.
A lot of it didn’t make sense to me at the time but I made friends easily. Picked up the language in the first eight months, learned to fish and hunt, but most of all, I learned how to really appreciate the rural world. The only real connection we had with life outside, besides my mum’s vast collection of books, was my father’s vast collection of music. My eldest brother would later add to that, sending us new releases and chart toppers over the years.
We would eventually move to the forest, some 20 minutes north-west of Tillari, where we lived in a log cabin, on a farm spanning over 80 acres.‘Be Here Now’ by Oasis, Sheryl Crow’s ‘Tuesday Night Music Club’ and ‘The Man Who’, Travis’ debut album, will always remain my favourite albums from my time in the wilderness.
This is my rainy day song. It’s also the very first song I play at every gig. Partly because I love it, lyrically and vocally, but mostly because I get to play it to myself when no ones around that early. What I really love about it is that it’s a conversation between two people.
I simply cannot do without a little mind prepping before a gig. This one, specifically the live version, is my pre-gig soundtrack. It has been, for the past four years or so, the very last song I listen to before I leave home.
There’s something very sincere about the way Ray writes and sings, especially when it comes to love. From his first album, Trouble, my favourite.
This one goes back all the way to 1999. My brother and I had just dropped out of school and our folks had left us home for the afternoon. Hockey sticks would come out to represent electric guitars and mic stands. Neighbours would come out yelling …
Don’t you know, I absolutely love good, well-structured lyrics, and this one by Holly Williams really makes a good case. A recollection of a man’s love for his wife. Straight to the heart.
Paradise speaks of everything I yearn for. The opportunity to go back in time once in a while, when the grass was greener, the water cleaner and the future was not even a thought. On the other hand, this song is perfectly apt for the time we live in.
I have a love-hate relationship with Beth. I love how she controls her voice and the sometimes gruff, sometimes sweet tone she can spring on you. I hate how she makes me feel.
Got to see her year before last in Bangalore. My first ever live concert and what a fabulous one it was.
I remember how we’d have this album on, volume to the maximum, almost every afternoon during my early teens. She was my first love and my first taste of a then, modern country sound.
This one’s special. We would wait for those 3 or so minutes between the last song, Slideshow, and this, the hidden track. It was heavy, angry and taught me two new cuss words.
Darrell Scott has this ease and fluency that leaves me in awe every time I listen to him sing and play. Play him on a warm Sunday afternoon or a Tuesday night, he’ll move you regardless. Goes down well with whiskey!
Watch Kristian Bent’s ‘Song With No Name’ from his debut album Campfire Stories below.