(Comedy of Athens) Churchill's Romboid Rhapsody ~ A Rebetiko Misunderstanding


The Christina, Turkish coast, Wednesday August 5th 1959

(Ari might find it endearing that someone like Churchill, with his powerful and respected image, can be so out of touch with this specific music, giving it a bit of a humorous absurdity.)

The day after the visit to Ari's hometown of Smyrna, Sir Winston Churchill asked Ari about this music he had heard Ari talk about during the visit. He couldn't exactly remember the name, or even pronounce it, at one point he even said "Romboid", "Rombo" or "Romeo", but Ari knew what he meant.
"Ah! You mean "Rebetiko" Sir Winston!" Ari said chuckling softly.
"Yes, that's it! Rembetiko! Damned memory. What on earth is it?"
Ari had offered his best explanation, describing it as the "blues of Greece", raw, urban music from the gritty suburbs, born of exile. He didn't think that Sir Winston would be interested, so he was surprised when he asked if he could hear some.
"Are you sure?" he asked in surprise, ""It's quite… different."
"Intriguing! Put it on old boy" Sir Winston said, "I'm curious".
Ari signaled to a crew member, always hovering nearby ready to attend to any needs, and asked him to fetch a Rebetiko vinyl. He wondered what Sir Winston, a man who had grown up on military marches, prim Church of England hymns, and Victorian Music Hall, would make of it. Ari found it impossible to keep his lips from twitching at the thought.
Eventually the crew member came back and handed the vinyl to Ari. As he slipped it out of its mottled yellow sleeve, a stark contrast to the pristine white of the yacht, Ari reflected on how he wished he had the ones he had listened to as a boy, but when the Turks invaded Smyrna and massacred everyone they could, people ran for their lives and took little else than the clothes on their backs. For a man who wasn't really very sentimental, this held a sentimental value to him, as this was one of the few luxuries he had allowed himself in those early days in Argentina. A strange place to find "Rembetiko" perhaps, but the Anatolians took their music with them, and a packet of cigarettes was all it had cost.
Ari put the record onto the gramophone, turned the sound up as Sir Winston was somewhat deaf, and with a crackle, a mournful bouzouki melody started to play.
To Ari, this was the music of his soul, a wild untamed rhythm that seemed to call out to him from a time immemorial, instinctively he wanted to raise his hands above his head and dance, but one look at Sir Winston's furrowed brow as he sipped his brandy, was enough to stop him.
"Damned shrill noise!" Sir Winston said gruffly.
Rather than be offended, Ari fell into laughter as he turned it off.
"You don't like "Rembetiko" then?" he asked as he slid the vinyl back inside its covering, his eyes twinkling with amusement behind his dark sunglasses.
Sir Winston's response was immediate and unequivocal
"Most certainly not dear boy! Sounded like blasted cats on a tin roof! Not quite the tunes of the brass band!"
Ari roared with laughter as he handed the vinyl back to the crew member, unable to resist the comical image Sir Winston’s words conjured. He sat down and, wiping a tear from his eye, said good naturedly,
"I think you need another whisky". 

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