February saw a few surprise performances. At Kantara House, after introducing myself to Lulo Reinhardt , he asked to hear “I Wish I’d Lived When Django Did” … he then asked Tony which guitar he’d like to play… and there you have it! What a great musical confluence, the Great nephew of Django playing a song written about his great Uncle .. it felt a little special!

Then @ The Basement on the 23rd February , I performed “I Wish I’d Lived When Django Did” with The Beautifully Mad Band and George Washingmachine ( who plays on the track).

You can buy the single http://itunes.apple.com/au/album/i-wish-id-lived-when-django/id330993557

I hope my pony knows the way back home

CARTE POSTALE #2

POST CARD 2

Nina Sails Away -“I Hope My Pony Knows the Way Home”
It’s never too late to meet my Father again, even if he died when I was three…

The story so far…
After my Surreal experience in the sanctuary of a somewhat bohemian venetian garden, I wound my way to a grande canal in search of my wave pony express.
In Norway they called sailing ships “Wave Ponies” …

The port was crawling with uniformed acqua polizi so I decided to walk with intent to escape their suspicious eyes..somehow it worked!
I board a Wave Pony, as a Stowaway … my life is now in the hands of Draugen (mythical ghost of the sea).
Sailing was never easy for a land locked Moravian… after hours of overwhelming greenish-ness I finally close my eyes, rocked to sleep by the wavy rhythms of the ocean…

…It’s night , I hear music wafting from the second deck. The band is swinging, the ship is tossing and I’m in a brave mood.
This music was strangely familiar and yet like nothing I had ever heard before.
I recognize the singer’s accent..he sounds Czech!

The drummer spies me crouched under the table…He ushers to me with his very large hands. He must be 20 stone (or 127 kilos) with big brown eyes and an Elvis slick.
“What are you doing? “
“ I’ve come to see you and hear you play.”
“ How did you get here?”
“I had to climb on board while no-one was watching”
“ that last song? …It reminded me of a tune from my childhood.Would you play it again please?”
As the song emerges from this fun-loving band, so do the recessed memories of my childhood… he holds my hand I am crying he comforts me by singing  a childish song about porridge …he calls Kaliku…
“That’s it.. it’s Kaliku …Kaliku!” He stares at me strangely then asks…
“ Do you know the singers, Peggy Lee? Diana Washington? Nina Simone? “
“ Where I come from there were only waltzes, war songs and songs about porridge.”
“Do you want to sing in a Band?”
“Do I? ‘Deed I do!” I don’t know the songs you play!”
“Hey I’ll teach them to you “ …
My heart skipped a beat.. I felt as if I’d known this big man all my life! … and there began a friendship made in Valhalla…

I spent the rest of my sea voyage tucked up in that Drummer’s cabin swinging away with his favourite Jazz Divas and voila I had myself a musical repertoire.
My Wave Pony’s destination? I’m about to find out..
I just Hope My Wave Pony Knows The Way Home ……Nina x
nina vox © 2010

CARTE POSTALE #1                                                                                 POST CARD #1

The story so far…After escaping the threat of Dogmatism in Moravia and losing my beloved parents, I escaped with my new Gypsy Family trekking through the Black Forest at night…we find our way to Venice. There we bade each other farewell. I was free to begin my life anew. I stood transfixed at the intense beauty and structural brilliance of this bizarre city surrounded by and floating on the sea. The sun was setting over the Canal Grande. The lights of Venice beckoned me, so I took the Vaporetti from La Guidecca across to Zattere Planca. I made my way past amazing structures like the Accademia Belle Arti and imagine what it would be like to study the Masters’ techniques and become a famous painter. I cross a bridge, La Ponte Accademia, and lose myself in the myriad laneways ..Shops of never imagined fantasy taunt me … I have no real currency to supply myself with exquisite Venetian objet d’artes. Romantic Restaurants caress my nostrils with mouth watering aromas of basil, garlic, tomatoes and fresh seafood…you can eat outside under candlelight…the air temperature like a soothing balm… Musicians perform in every campo (square) guitar classico or piano accordion the music adding to my intoxication with all things Venetian.
I stumble across the Teatro Goldoni where I am lured in by the unmistakable sounds of an Orchestra performing Mozart’s Requiem. I steal into a balcony seat and just as I was floating to the gods, a fire alarm goes off and we are ushered out into the campinello “Not again!” The Conductor cried… faulty wiring or just the cats after the rats causing havoc in the underbelly of the Grand Old Dame. I decide that Half a Requiem is better than a final one.
Now every corner I turn leads me deeper into the maze of narrower streets which are now crawling with night cats…at least they aren’t wearing masks – Carnivalle lie dormant… I enter Campiellos on every fourth turn, leave by another lane and end up back at Campo Uno (square One)! I get caught in a Corte (a blind Alley) the lane is called Calle Del Assassini .. here is where the ghosts of Venice appear before me…having read that Venice was a centre of political corruption and treachery with a commerce based on slavery and prostitution…Every where I look I see degenerate gothic banditti whose … ‘piercing eyes seem to penetrate, at a single glance, into the hearts of men, and to read their most secret thoughts; few persons could support their scrutiny, or even endure to meet them twice’ (The Italian, p. 35)… At once a voice from The Merchant of Venice bellows forth “Thou know’st that all my fortunes are at sea/ Neither have I money nor commodity/ To raise a present sum; therefore go forth/ Try what my credit in Venice can do…aha I add… “all that glitters is not gold” …I am left alone…It starts to rain cats and dogs so I dash for shelter in a doorway. A doorway? In Venice? There was no shelter for me … Just then the waters in the canal start to rise …I envisage myself drowning in the deep black of night or in a canal I might fall into accidentally. “Nina don’t get your feet wet!” …a voice whimpers from my amygdala (my lizard brain that strives to keep me alive…she’s such a feline)

I start to run in panic… I take a left turn and stumble through some open gates …I enter in to a magical garden where neon signs: “si la e eterna” light the garden wall.. I hear the yapping of small hounds from inside the house…the smell  of green smoke,  impassioned voices engaged in philosophical argument, glasses of absinthe and red wine pile up over small round tables, … a crackly recording of Django Reinhardt bubbles through the jollies…Artists work on large canvases with sticks and splashing paint from a can …then a man with a curious moustache calls ‘Peggy do you want me to feed Cappucino & Pegeen they are making such a racket…Or should I just eat them?”

I watch on in fascination as the party unfolds… I must be in the only real garden in Venice …I find shelter beneath an almond tree…I sleep … All too soon, first light beckons me …I don’t wish to leave this surreal floating world where Modern & Ancient architecture make fascinating water-bedfellows, where the Gothic Banditti only exist as Culture Vultures, slaves to Beauty, Art, Music, Theatre …I must find a ship to give me passage to my new life… Dedicated To Those I’ve Loved and Lost… Nina x �

2010 looks like flying by as well.....

Nina the Wing Walker….not for the faint hearted at 10,000 feet above Cape Naturaliste with a Loose boot…to boot!

Q: What is Jazz to you?
A: “Safe Sex of the highest order ” to quote Kurt Vonnegut Jnr.
Q: There are a lot of Jazz standards on the album, is there a story behind that?
A: Yes. My Father was a Jazz drummer and trumpeter who died when I was
three. These are my favourite songs from his era, so singing them is
like having a conversation with him.
Q: Do Moravians have a rich Jazz tradition?
A: Why Yes. Jazz was alive and cooking until the Secret Police tried to
wipe it out during the War. They tried imposing rules dictating how and
when you could play music. It’s written in ” The Bass Saxophone” by
Czech author Josef Skvorecky.
1 You were not allowed to Scat
2 The double bass had to be played with a bow.
3 Tunes had to be in 4/4/ time only.
4 You were not allowed to syncopate.
5 Mutes for trumpets were banned … and so on…
Q: Did it work?
A: Of course not. It popularized Jazz, took it underground, made it more popular. (Nina laughs like Lauren Bacall.)
Q: Why have you waited so long to do an album?
A: You have to practise living long enough for the stories to be real…then you can sing the songs.
Q: Why did you choose to cover Don McLean’s “Vincent” ?
A: I have always loved Van Gogh’s paintings and the lyrics to “Vincent”.
It is a song about beauty misunderstood and madness. I felt there was
never enough space in Don’s or other people’s versions, to really do
the lyrics justice.
Q: When did you first start to sing?
A:
When I was 8 years old , I was being attacked by a drake (my
Grandmother kept geese) , instead of running hysterically away I stood
my ground and bellowed. He stopped in his tracks. He listened. Not a
discriminating audience but I had his attention.
Q: Who are your musical influences?
A: Such a long list… Vocalists I love: Nina Simone, Nina Hagen, Bessie
Smith, Peggy Lee, Rochelle Ferrell, Rosemary Clooney, Eartha Kitt, Jessye Norman, JoniMitchell, Rickie Lee Jones, KD Lang, Ruby Hunter, Pink, Tom Waits, Tony Bennett, Eddie Vedder, Chris Cornell, Andrew & Niahm Strong, Aaron Neville, Sting, David Bowie, Bono, Angelique Kidjo, John Martyn…
Q: Favourite Car?
A: I’m not a fan of cars but I quite fancy George Clooney’s electric Tesler, almost as good as a gypsy caravan parked by a beach.
Q: How would you solve the Middle East?
A: Paratroop Reggae Bands into the area. Once Reggae takes hold, anger has
no hope. I heard Edward De Bono proffer a solution: just get Israel and
Palestine to vote in each other’s elections, that way they’d get
Governments that wouldn’t want to hurt their neighbour. Brilliant.
Q: Why do men start wars?
A: Creation Envy.
Q: They can’t give birth so they…
A: Create Havoc…Yes.
Q: Who are your Heroes?
A: The Lady with her shopping trolley of possessions who can still smile
at a stranger. Nelson Mandela, Hildegard de Bingen, Mother Theresa,
Arundhati Roy, Tim Flannery, David Suzuki, Bill Mollison, Fred Hollows, Victor Chan, Dr Ian Fraser.
Scientists , Inventors, Doctors, Politicians, Artists working for the
greater good. Anyone who volunteers their time in community. People who
can forgive. Indigenous Australians getting their voices heard, their
stories told, who are putting right the white wash of history. Lowitja
O’Donoughue and Archie Roach…
Q: Do you really keep carrier pigeons?
A: I breed them to send letters to people from the past.
Q: Did you ever hear back from anyone?
A: Yes I got a letter from Jesus saying ” Lord protect me from Religion”
Q: Your worst night’s sleep ever?
A: In a treasure Chest on a beach in The Seychelles after too much Absinthe.
Q: Was the treasure still in the chest?
A: I didn’t think so but when I got back to the boat someone noticed I had
an imprint of a gold dubloon on my back. I never found that beach
again.
Q: Pets?
A: I keep an un-caged Macaw that has been welcome
to leave for ten years. It sings Miriam Makeba’s Click song in the
Xhosa Language.
Q: Does it speak?
A: Yes it does an impersonation of Michael Caine in “The Italian Job”.
It stands next to the open cage and says
” You’re only supposed to blow the bloody doors off !”