Word: gourdfuls
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...keel." From the Biblical injunction, "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth," it is only a short and negotiable step to an old saying of the Nandi tribe in East Africa: "A goat's hide buys a goat's hide and a gourd a gourd...
After this version was published in England last fall (TIME, Nov. 3), Graves was attacked not only for trying to break the spell of the famed passages ("A jug of wine, a loaf of bread and thou" became "one mancel loaf, a haunch of mutton and a gourd of wine set for us two alone"), but also for making some scholarly blunders of his own. L. P. Elwell-Sutton, an Orientalist at Edinburgh University, maintained that the manuscript used by Ali-Shah and Graves was "a clumsy forgery." Replied Graves: "Howling nonsense." The quarrel may never be resolved, since Graves...
Approximately 20 minutes before curtain time, men and women in blue jeans and work shirts began walking slowly, slowly onto the curtainless stage of Paris' Theatre National Populaire. There they stood or sat, meditatively waiting. At 8:30, Indian Musician Nageswara Rao appeared, carrying his vina - a long, gourd-based stringed instrument, much like the sitar popularized by Ravi Shankar and Beatle George Harrison. For a quarter of an hour, the vina mewed and whinnied while no one moved. Then things began to come to life...
...SHANKAR IN NEW YORK (World Pacific). The master sitarist's latest rendition of the sound that has infiltrated jazz and indeed reOriented all Western popular music. Ever since the Beatles endorsed Shankars traditional Indian music last year, his ragas have become all the rage. From the long-necked, gourd-bellied sitar, Shankar strokes a whining, hypnotizing stream of spontaneous melodies within the framework of a predetermined pattern of notes. The Eastern "scales" he uses are now definitely required running by jazz musicians, especially bassists, whose solos frequently echo his soulful, inscrutable improvisations...
Fresh off the boat from Italy, gourd-shaped Giulio Gatti-Casazza heads straight for Manhattan's Metropolitan Opera. As the newly appointed general manager of the Met, he is eager to have a look at his new home. Mama mia! What he sees is enough to curl his beard. It's bad enough that the exterior looks like a brewery. But the backstage area is so cramped that it can hardly accommodate a P.T.A. pageant. Principal singers, he finds to his horror, have to rehearse in the ladies' powder room; scenery is stacked behind the building...