Los Angeles was rich in local music talent and televised music treasures. Town Hall Party, Johnny Otis Show, and even Korla Pandit. (I understand "Korla" soon became a favorite name for people with Siamese kittens who needed names).
Not everyone was put into a trance by Korla Pandit. I'd help my mom clean house while Korla was playing on the television, although the usual household chores took on a more meditative quality. You couldn't help but sway in time as you dusted, and you'd start moving in time with the music, holding the dust rags with both hands above your head like a scarf as you danced the dance of the Seven Veils.
And like that part in "Miserlou" when he plays with his right hand the short doubling sound of the rhythm (da da da DA da da da DA), like a little sandpaper, I'd dust the counter back and forth in time with that ... and I'd imagine every housewife and daughter in every household throughout Los Angeles was doing the same thing.
Other times, I knew it, as I pulled my wagon or rode my tricycle up the sidewalk, I could hear Korla's music coming softly out the window of a neighbor's house, so I knew she watched his show, too.
Sometimes my mother would hold a rag in each hand over her head and just ..... spin. And I would follow her into the kitchen by walking like an Egyptian.
¶ 1/13/2011 11:01:00 AM