Deepavali was the big thing this week. We had a day off (I worked it, of course, but at least we had less traffic than usual for our pre-work walk).









On Saturday, after breakfast at Chow Kit market, we went to see Bohemian Rhapsody. Many critics don't reckon much to this movie. In fact I read one review that was so damning I nearly decided to give it a miss.

But I really enjoyed it. (For a more balanced discussion of both the movie and the negative press, these reviews are worth a look, I think).

Partly it's the music. How can anyone resist those songs? I remember Bohemian Rhapsody playing endlessly on the radio on the school bus. Electrifying. No-one had ever done anything like that.

Then, when I worked in Germany, I had a good friend who was a big fan of Queen, and their albums enlivened many a post-Schnitzel Sunday afternoon. (Unfortunately, Queen didn't figure among the cassettes we took on our epic road trip through the Rhineland, Belgium, and Luxembourg, to Paris.)

Under Pressure (Queen and Bowie) was ubiquitous on BFBS during my time in Germany. That position was my first post-uni, post-teacher-training, full-time, supposedly-career-launching, "real job". It was tough. Under Pressure summed it up pretty well. (Nothing really changed after that. I remember thinking back then: "Is this always how it's going to be now?" And yep, that's pretty much how it has been ever since. Our society has succeeded in turning work into something predatory.)

But it wasn't just the music that made yesterday's movie enjoyable. Mercury's is an amazing story. His multicultural background, his musical talent and vision, his extraordinary voice, his inimitable panache as a performer -- and, of course, his tragic death. He succumbed to Aids in 1991. Four years later, a former school-friend of mine lost his life in the same way.

Made in Heaven, which uses recordings Mercury made before his death, was released in 1995. Many of the lyrics are very poignant, with hindsight. The main body of the album consists of tracks 1-11, which are the only tracks mentioned on the sleeve. But there is more. There is Track 12, which is over in a second, like the moment of death itself. Then there's Track 13, which is 20 minutes of swirling, brooding, formless music, an evocation of what is beyond death. There are occasional echoes and memories of things half-grasped, half-recognized, but nothing can be complete again.

Made in Heaven was one of the CDs that accompanied our Aussie road trips. But not that last bit. Not that last bit...







Anyway... The rest of the week:

-- More music from the MPO. Leonard Jacome was back with his Venezuelan harps, and a world premiere of his "Arpa mestiza". And after the interval, we heard Rachmaninoff's highly lyrical 2nd Symphony.

-- More octopus balls (cheese mentaiko and teritama, this time, and may I just point out that the hands in the photo are deliberate?).

-- And more street scenes.