Layers of Panik

Ah facebook, what would I do without it and the rather significant amount of invites and events it proposes me. On Saturday morning I received a little message from what I have come to regard as the most enjoyable, original radio station I know; Radio Panik (105.4fm)   Now it’s not like I actually have a great and wide knowledge of radio stations either here or anywhere else, but I do have the conviction that there are not so many quite like this; it’s characterised by the “fact” (more a feeling) that every ten minutes the style of music changes, from opera, to hip-hop, to electro, and so on and so forth. Yet the changes aren’t jarring, in fact I never really notice, except now and then to stop and marvel for a moment at the latest curiosity they have served up, as one realises that for the past five minutes they’ve been playing some kind of strange tangled mix of whispers, gentle clanging and some peculiar, indescribable other noise. There have been some classics, songs I never heard before, absolutely don’t know how to categorise, and I expect, will hear them just this once. But, I certainly digress; the invitation from Radio Panik was to come to Jubelpark/Parc de Cinquantenaire in Brussels to hear them play some music. The sun was shining, the urge to leave the cosy centre called, so why not.

In fact now that I think ahead on what to write, I realise that my reflections on this event don’t necessarily have anything specific to say about the event itself, or even Radio Panik, but I did think to myself as I lay there that I would like to remember this moment, and what I would clumsily call the “layers” of it. I would first say that I’ve never really like Jubelpark; it is (yet another) rigidly laid out, formal park, proclaiming the glory (ummm) of, I must say, I don’t know what. But today, I changed my mind, I think. At the Western end of the park is a triumphal arch (again, celebrating a triumph I am blissfully unaware of) with two stone arms stretching out to close this end of the park, forming a semi-circular enclosure. Nothing really very remarkable, in my opinion. But, lying there on the happily merde-less grass of one side of this semi circle, while the sun gave out it’s last, warm rays, I realised that it’s the perfect place to catch the sun at the end of the day, which is not such an easy thing to find in Brussels. With the pulsing, electronic rhythms wafting over from the ad-hoc (I love that word) sound system, consisting of some big old, brown, hi-fi speakers under a little tent, this was already a good start. Up above in the sky, planes traced white lines across the sky, these shortening just as they lengthened, like the snake game on a mobile phone. Lower down, but still high in the sky, little dark birds darted around, seemingly in pairs, bouncing up and down as if to the music itself. Just above us cavorted little flies in a typically meaningless fashion (I must say I like the sound of flies cavorting) and around us the tips of the grass seemed to stretch up, trying to catch the last sun on their tips. Under us, the ground trembled now and then as the metro passed below. Really, very nice. Around me, a rather irregular collection of people played games, talked, close by two little kids practising their first break-dance moves. A mix of people I would say, reflecting perhaps the radio station itself.

On these days, and others, I do love this city, neglected and confused as it is.

bru out

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