Balancing my twin careers of Sufi mystic and international recording artiste is never an easy task. For instance, while making my latest album, I'm a Little Teapot, I was forced to banish absolutely everyone from the studio so that I could concentrate on transforming holy vibrations into aural experiences. I was completely alone, except for a hot groupie called Scheherazade, my twenty-five piece mambo backing band, several audio engineers, a reporter and photographer from Rolling Stone magazine, and the camera crew from Entertainment Tonight. Such deeply spiritual solitude is absolutely necessary if I am to capture the harmonic resonance of God's eternal oneness via the divine radiations that shine forth from my mind's eye.
The first track we laid down was my Darvish version of Begin the Beguine. This is a sacred number fraught with difficulties for both the seeker and adept alike. For instance, my conga player, Michael Finnegan, was already a third of the way through the beguine while I was still contemplating what vocal inflections would be pleasing to Allah, and so we had to scrap our first take of Begin the Beguine.
"Stop the beguine!" I cried. "Michael Finnegan, peace be upon him, is playing the first verse too up-tempo and it is not the will of God that Begin the Beguine should begin like that."
I indicated the holy metronome, and motioned for Michael to slow his beat count. "Okay. Now, are you ready to begin Begin the Beguine again Michael Finnegan?" I asked the infidel conga player. He nodded apprehensively in reply.
"Begin the Beguine, take two," announced the chief engineer. But it was still too fast.
"Stop the beguine again!" I shouted immediately. Poor old Michael Finnegan. He just can't begin Begin the Beguine properly to save his life."
This memoir continues in a similar vein for another eighty thousand words. If you would like a full transcript of the post please send a stamped addressed envelope to:
Mr Ali Baba
Forty Thieves Records
Third Urn on the Right
Baghdad Market Place
