Goin’ Wylde with Whateva…

Atsaba Rothrong can now afford to sit a-back leisurely and allow his hair to grow amok again. This Frequency guy who shares 50% of his surname with original Van Halen singer David Rothrock, has seen better times with his black RG350DX Ibanez. In all propose, a shift in inspiration will have his static waves refreshed. Zakk Wylde’s inspiration will do him good. A monumentally wild one, this time, hopefully.
If you are one of those Johnny-what-happeneds that missed out on the August 23 novelty in Dimapur, here’s for you.
The Epiphone Guitar Contest was one offensively cool event. So nice, it was almost criminal. No drunken Nagamese F-word cussing-singing stone-age juveniles; no beer-bottle flying enthusiasm, no freaky testosterone and hyperactive hormones shaking dark bushes and undergrowth; no cats-in-the-cradle et al. Best of all, it was free. It was a major very-nice thing. Another admirable effort by Rattle and Hum Music Society (May your society increase).  

For those about to…
Dimapur and Kohima’s Rock and Metal royalty ...ahem…was there in full strength – including some scrap metal scavengers who made it a convenient indulgence to park their loha-tina-filled ‘thelas’ to investigate the unearthly noise blasting out from Café Destination (2006 Naga Idol Moanungsang’s latest cup of coffee – now he’s got his hair full).
Our adorable mushroom-happy-denims wearing rock tribesmen sure made an impressive assemblage: Guitarist Joey Woch was there looking his usual calm, say-3-words-in-5-hours self. I know this guy from the Patkai Christian College days and boy, all these years I am actually yet to hear him utter 3 sentences in four hours. Aren’t we awfully grateful that he’s not letting his fingers walk in the footsteps of his reticence?
Then there was this dreadlocked dude, Lui Tzudir, having a hairy day doing his bit for the event. Heard his singing on a number of local compilations. He’s got a very, very nice voice. And let’s not forget the Global Warming-affected lot. Purebreed Divine Connection’s Mhathung Odyuo and Obed Kath could be seen frantically busying with what appeared to be panicked search for divine intervention from Dimapur’s heat. Mind you, the two are purebred Kohima-dudes. Strangely, their cool 'El Rio' album shares a half-a-name with Global Warming's deadliest weather quirk - The notorious El Nino. Phew, check out the irony.  
On an easier note, Moanungsang and his lovely wife busied about like hyperactive teenagers, keeping their teeming rock guests comfortable. “Today is the official opening (of Café Destination)” Moanungsang discloses to me with a palpable finally-it-is-done smile. The guy has come a long way since 2003 (or 2004?) Summer Jam (I think). I still recall the beat contest’s anchor announcing a dude from Bangalore called Moanungsang. Then on the stage comes this guy with this long Bo Bice-friendly hair and an acoustic wings guitar. Now, few years later, he can relax and have his cup of café destination in proper peace time.     
Next to Moanungsang’s latest cup of coffee is yes, new-music-kid-in-town Audio Garage. Audio Garage’s chief Atsung Jamir’s venture isn’t at all a big surprise – the dude was a music freak, playing bass with Joey and his SpinDrift bandits in Patkai. Man, he has come a long way. If you are an avid local-circuit follower, you’ll see in the guy’s eyes that Audio Garage hasn’t been at all a piece of cake. For someone whose butt reportedly became a favorite target practice for government-loan-No-Givers, Atsung deserves everything he has come to have. The business is new and all else that must be, is for what is to come. But for now Atsung is happy to have got to where he is today. After all said and done, he can now munch his piece of cake at his neighbor’s, Café Destination, without having to worry about those freaky, elusive government loans. God Bless for you, Atsung.  
The event couldn’t have been a better place for our local stars to sparkle in exclusivity for once. I turned right and there was guitarist Sosang discussing the merits and demerits of Fender and Ibanez guitars with kindred souls. Also a Patkai classmate, Sosang used to be this quiet man strutting into the classroom with his Orange-brown Economics note register. A few years later down the line, he would emerge playing for The Heritage and Kilang Pongen (another Patkai nut). At the port of the event, Akha Jamir was seen drowning in a monumentally scary mass of tangled cables and wires behind his control consol while big brother Akum Jamir was at war-front twiddling and dwaddling with what’s-freaking-happened-to-this-amp thing. The Crescendo brothers are well, you know, are as usual in their element. Looking left, right, center, ceiling and under my chair, there was a host of many other well-known music faces whose names I cannot pronounce without chewing up my tongue. Vocalists, pianists, bassists, guitarists, violinists, drummerists…cough cough...I meant Drummers, sorry. Everyone was there.   
And of course what musical event can claim worth, without the honorable chief minister himself? No, not CM Neiphiu Rio. Theja Meru, I mean. Man was all cool, handsome, glasses and spikes as usual. This Governor’s Award man has given to us lot so much, it is about time we have a signature guitar series named after the fella. How about a Gibson Theja Meru DX2008 Series. (Ugh…goodness me, that sounded like some excruciatingly exotic Octopus salad from the Caribbean islands). Whatever, anyhow, I have made my point. All blessings to the man.
Outside, Theja and I blabbered enthusiastically, sharing our respective musical perspective like longtime beer buddies. He then ushered me right into the heart of the event. Front, that is. Specifically, in fact so exceedingly to that really real front thing, even the high-E string on the guitars appeared like obese telephone cables, to my eyes.

White Metal and the Panic
So there I was at the front, all of 5’6 tall, roman-sandaled, lethally white-skinned, quiet and as confused as a migrating freshwater shellfish on vacation. Seriously, what’s a guy supposed to do when planted right at the front of any smorgasbord – 80 degrees almost facing the crowd? As if my crowd-phobia wasn’t enough a malady. The torn denim short-pants I wore, were of no consolation as did my white tee-shirt that stood out in painful parallel to my forever-conversation-starter white-complexion. Further, all thanks to our beloved Dimapur heat, this stupid bluish hair gel began to drip off my spikes; my southern regions began to feel like a steel-plated Jockey that just got fished out of the oven; my laptop took forever to activate; I couldn’t find my headphones and pen; boy, talk about hard day’s rock.
In the midst of this unwarranted confusion, I looked around frantically – the only faces I know close enough to share a conversation, were about 570 miles away from where I sat. In the midst of this I-am-very-shy-syndrome-panic, I caught sight of a movement from the door leading into café’s wherever. Hallelujah. The movement was my agonizingly lovely friend Ivy Odyuo (Hi :) waving me this liver-shaking joyful wave and a heart-breaking smile. Barely 4 Ft. and all bundle of lovely, she sure had me dangling by my socks, figuratively speaking, that is. (Wasn’t wearing any socks that day, only Roman sandals, you see …)
Thanks to her, I reared to go all out and Mr. World-Bring-‘Em-On types, conveniently invigorated and no more griping like some drunken migrating freshwater shellfish. Oh boy, world, bring it on! I hope the state women commission reserves 14% of the seat for Ivy alone.
For Those About To… (You know the rest of the AC/DC anthem, people…)

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