And then they took sugar, spice and everything good in the world, put it in a pot and called it Fusion.

I do love a good combination of everything good – Chocolate and rum, dreadlocks and deodorant (hear hear), a dash of cheery yellow with everything black. But I’ve never really been able to digest fusion in music successfully. The times I’ve liked it are too few to make a ballad about and Rumba. There’s also fusion, which just downright baffles me (Rap rock? Slow core? Anti- folk!!?! Stoner rock?! Weep?)

Now let’s get down to this confounding business. When you like two people simultaneously, there’s always something which tips the favour for one. The fingers, prelude to their charming smile, other anatomical thingummies, you get the drift. So according to the theory of polygamy, there’s always one genre which you favour more than the other. At least enough to treat it as one entity and go for fancy dinners with. You may juggle, but it only works if you do it successfully enough…or own a country like Bono. 

Juggling is what I think is awry with most of the fusion today. Poor soft hearted musicians give too much love to both the genres and then try and give them equal time – which just makes the whole thing a tad tedious to listen to. Fusion, when done right, should blend like whipped cream and espresso, the cream swirling as it becomes one with the coffee. Like this one:

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 Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia leads with soft notes on his Flutes. Zakir Hussain follows, giving heartbeat to the song with his rhythimic thumping, blending with Jan Garbarek’s teasing of the melody with his saxophone and John McLaughlin following with a flourish. Not once do I want to stop listening to it or kill a puppy.

Speaking of killing puppies:

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I don’t get what core genre is this. But I get it enough to know that it’s as painful as their hair would be – if you get stabbed in the eye by them. They seemed to have wrongly called it ‘Scream for my ice cream’, when clearly it should’ve just been called ‘Scream. And run.’ But mostly ‘Scream’.

The music it seems is thoughtfully made for 12 year old metalheads, who just want to dance.

However, moving to the good:

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Indus Creed finally bought the 80’s to India in the 90’s. With their Van Halen like hairdos and that sound which everyone likes, they were and still are the cat’s shiny pajamas. In the melodic Pretty Child, the beautiful undertones of the tabla are just subtle enough to fit in like a perfectly stretchy rubberband.

Strechy rubbers bring us to:

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I hate these guys. 

They’re a bunch of decent looking Finnish chaps…who’re into bhangra or Soumibhangra (Finnish Bhangra) as they fondly call it. Their mothers must’ve given up all hope of ever meeting their grandchildren. Check when, in the middle of the video, the lead guitarist does a Madhuri Dixit and ends up losing his waist belt thingy. 

Actually, the absolutely adorable vocalist Kiureli really tries. He really tries to get his bhangra moves going and everything. Correction. I love these guys.

Speaking of parents who WILL see their grandchildren:

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This smokin trio of sisters, know how to handle their instruments. Creating a delightful blend of pop rock and traditional Celtic folk music, The Corrs are genius. And beautiful. But mostly genius.

Fusion is like making a subway sandwhich. There are those who dig the Barbeque sauce, and then there are those who would rather stay with Honey Mustard. While in fact what really matters is the choice of the meat, which will be rockin your socks for the next couple of minutes.