Kat-Parvathi and the Rumpelteazers (or KART if you are a smoker), is Bangalore’s strange new stew (or brew, if you are prone to being prone). A potentially unstable circle of genially troubled choir director, future marketing moghul, deceptively benign software engineer, studio software sage/ piano man/ internet buccaneer/ Cartman-double, and sullen philosophy student; the band bands together five dubious denizens who have no real business hanging around each other except that they are old friends with more than a few common chords between them… like that glorious triad – EAT, and others like B fat, er, flat. Whatever.
But all seriousness aside, there is of course the small matter of the music... variously evolved and marred by its constituents’ previous and current engagements with some of the Indian scene’s meanest, mean-assed frat-rats (read Moksha, Galeej Gurus, Parousia, Extinct Reflections, Angel Dust, TAAQ, BLAH, blah). With influences that trail from Bacchus to Bach, with sundry shades of rock in between, KART delivers a decidedly hard hitting strike of rock music inflected with a distinctly South Indian swagger. Riding on the inspired hybridity of the Nalli Queen’s pitch perfect croon and distressed damsel antics, Kartman’s many thanis and fancy keyboard runnies, Kula Sekhar’s subtly textured time-keeping, Chamak Raja’s stone sexy dance moves and frenetic fret-boardry to thangalvelu aka thongz’ bass lines and baser shibboleths or existential ramblings; there’s more tomfoolery and mischief at a KART gig than you’ll find at the average Jellicle Ball. But there’s also enough musical magic to keep your casbah rocking till the cops come out and the cats stop playing. At which time you can prolong the fun by going home and watching Shivaji the Boss (on mute) or reading Kierkegaard’s The Sickness unto Death to the strains of Toto, Spock’s Beard or Annie Lennox.
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