Angela is here, we've moved into yet ANOTHER home (my third of the trip, long story) and I'm kicking it with LaFam, hiding out from a freak thunderstorm that rode up like a mass gray wave and enveloped the town. Above we have our first video featuring Angela's work. We shot it on Sunday in Bunyore, a small village between Maseno and Luanda, deep in Luhiya land. A legendary group of elderly Luhiya musicians have been keeping an ancient tradition alive since 1942. We talked to them about the youth, the future, and what might happen to the music they love if the kids don't get on board.
The relative silence is due to serious changes in the Raw Music (ie my) lifestyle and our game plan. I've moved out of Ozzy and Emma's house, and now I've moved out of the house I had moved to. I hope this new home, a jungly bungalow shared with an erstwhile American hippie, suits our very strange purposes.
For the last few days I've been doing a very different kind of writing, working on a story board and script so we make sure we come home with the right shots. It takes all Angela has to keep me from running around filming whatever asshole with an instrument I run across, and this is definitely for the best. I'm in the process of melding all these disparate stories that I've shared on the blog into one coherent 24 minute narrative that still gets the point across. And I'm still not sure which point that is. On the suggestion of one of my professors, I've been trying to communicate in sketches instead of words, but most of my "art" ends up looking like mangled stick figures in compromising positions. My talent is in gonzo porn storyboards I guess, and that's not a promising market.
More soon. The rain is letting up and it's TV making time.