thanks bordura ,ngadhnjyesi
dont blame Dasho Kurti he is a great Composer
read first his story translate......
Dasho Kurti:
«I wanted to go home to Albania...»
(by Natali Chatziantoniou)
The musicians always greeted him with [the affectionate Greek diminutive] «Hi there Tasouli!». They weren't saying "Tasouli" [for the common Greek name Tasos], as I thought. They were really calling him "Dashouli", affectionately, as one of their own. By the end of this interview, I felt almost the same affection for the 34-year old accordionist Dasho Kurti, who, like so many of his compatriots, went through a nightmare to survive.
And he did better than that. Making a record with Dalaras is no small thing, for a composer who until yesterday was unknown. He spent years in the orchestras of more or less famous singers, one of the best players of the accordion ("don't say that" he insists, "there are so many good players: Vavatsikas who did his best for this instrument, to give it, again, a place in Greek music; and Drongaris, Tiganouria, young Dinos Chatziordanou and lots of others..."). At some point he found himself in Dalaras' band. And after that, some time, he found the courage to show him his songs.
And that's how the "Erima choria" came to be, with ten songs, five of which are traditional Albanian melodies arranged by Dasho for Dalaras' voice, but also for Eleni Vitali and for the Albanian singers Valbona Mema, Artiola Tosca and Fatos Selman, who contribute to the record, as does Babis Stochas, who sings one of Kurti's new songs.
The Greek lyrics are by Agathi Dimitrouka, Ilias Katsoulis, Smaro Papadopoulou and Lizetta Kalimeri.
«As a kid I used to hate the accordion»
We asked Dasho to tell us his story. He did, interrupted every now and then not only by emotion, but also to remember to thank all those in the musical profession who welcomed him, helped him, and made him love Greece until he reached the point where he says: "by now, I am here and there, both". But let's take things from the beginning.
- How did you start making music?
«When I was six, my parents took me to the State School of Music in Elbasan, to learn the violin. I loved it, I grew very close with my teacher as well, whom I regarded as a father. But, when I was about 11-12 years old, they put him in jail for political reasons. And, in reaction, I never took up a violin again.»
- And the accordion?
«At the school, they decided to start me on the accordion, which, at the time, I hated. But an excellent teacher brought me to love it. She sent me to a teacher in town for the first steps. Later, I took the exams to go the Academy of Music in Tirana. That was hard: 70-80 people take the exams, from all over Albania, and they took only four...»
- How did you come to Greece?
«In '93 I decided to come over to work, to get together a little money and come back. I telephoned a cousin of mine in Athens, and we set out, with another guy I knew, in late November. We walked in the snow, three days and three nights. The cold, the fear. At the end we were saying: "wish the police caught us!". The worst moment was while we were passing among some soldiers, they had lit a fire, we weren't even breathing. I don't wish this on anyone. But I know it's my story is the story of thousands of people. I reached Sotili, outside Kozani. The funny thing is, four years later, I found myself there again, for a concert, with Nena Venetsanou. I was shaking all over.
- And after Sotili?
«As soon as I got there, I threw away the clothes I'd been wearing on the road, and put on the clean ones I'd been carrying in a little bag. After that, I go to the KTEL bus station and I say "can I have a ticket". Those are the only Greek words I knew. "Where to?" the girl from the KTEL asks. I don't understand her. She asks again: "Athens? Thessaloniki?". I say "Athens". And that's how I got here, I walk out onto Omonia square and telephone my cousin. He didn't have any room in the house. Hopelessness gripped me then. I wanted to go back home. I went to the police van and told them "Albanian!" but (perhaps they thought I was too respectably dressed?) they didn't pick me up. I didn't have a cent, I was sleeping in some abandoned cars near Larissa Station. I was taking any job I could find. And one day, walking down Piraios Street, I saw a taverna they were renovating. I walked in and asked for work. The boss asks "Where are you from, Albania or Northern Epiros?". "I am Albanian", says I. "Got no work for you" says he. I turn around to leave, but he took pity on me, he called me back. And from that day my life changed.»
- How?
«After a few days, the boss started to trust me, he let me sleep [in there] on the floor. I was working 10-12 hours a day, washing dishes. I was working on the boss: «I'm musician really». He wasn't going to believe me. After three months, with the money I'd saved, I bought an accordion, 280 thousand drachmas, then. I get back to the place late in the afternoon, open up the instrument and start to play with heart and soul. Everyone [who came in] stayed.»
- And when did you start to play in a more regular way?
«My cousin was working in a tavern in Kaisariani. «Listen», he says to me, «there's accordion players coming round here, and you know what they are making?». But I was ashamed. I had my pride. But at last I go out, the first time, and within an hour I make 10 thousand. The worst moment, definitely, was when they'd put the money in my hand. I always grew red, and there were some who understood, who'd put the money in my pocket instead. And one night I met a great musician, Giorgos Pavlatos, who introduced me to Ilias Katsoulis.
«I was impressed by Chatzidakis...»
- Did you know Greek music at all?
«I was hearing the hits all around me, and thinking: "It can't be, Greek music can't be this s**tty". Later, I discovered the older stuff, rembetica, laika. And from Liougkos, who took me in his band, I learned Chatzidakis. That was magic. Chatzidakis made a deep impression on me, both the sound and the way of thinking. Later, I played with Venetsanou, Savvina [Giannatou] and Loudovikos [ton Anogeion]. People would hear me, then ask for me. Others, too: Kana, Kelaidonis, Zervoudakis, Kalimeri, Karakotas, Koulia, Papazoglou. The second job I got, though was at the "Hamam", with Zikas and Bourmas. He's the one who took me to Dalaras, who, at the time, was looking for an accordionist.»
- When did you show Dalaras your songs?
«I didn't dare to show him my work, because I saw so many people coming and showing him things. Meanwhile, I had the good luck to get to know Agathi Dimitrouka, who entrusted some lyrics to me. Me wrote "To milo" [The apple], which was first sung by Kaiti Koulia. She was appearing with Orfeas Peridis, who came and gave me a poem by Katsoulis: "Erima choria" [Abandoned villages]. So I wrote it, and one day as we were playing with Dalaras, I thought to sing it to him, let him tell me if it was any good. He was very much moved...»
- Why did you chose mostly traditional tunes for this record, not your own?
«Because my idea is to show that the Balkans are one thing, and not to show off the nice songs I write. It makes me angry that the "Europeans" managed to have the Greek damning the Albanians and the Albanian the Serb. I wanted to show that the songs, the tradition, unite us. That is why we picked songs from every part of Albania, and why we brought Valbona Mema, Artiola Tosca and Fatos Selman to sing them with Dalaras. "We're making something about the emigrants, with Dalaras", I said to them. That was enough.»
- They know him?
«As soon as you've passed the border, Giorgos IS Greece. At the moment, we are thinking about presenting the record in Albania as well. Do you realize how many people are waiting? My mother among them...»
- Are you happy to have made it, in the end?
«I don't know if I made it. I'm trying. Maybe it's not so good, but I haven't tasted joy over this thing. I demand more from myself. But my wife, my mother... they are very happy.
de.youtube.com/watch?v=AOfHp7cU_8s&feature=related