By Dina Maccabee
I first jumped on the Selda Bagcan bandwagon back in 2006, and I was pretty amused by that earnest bit of 1970s nostalgia, awash in reverby lead guitar lines, vibrato-laden organ, and loping “Age of Aquarius” shuffles. Her compilation of tracks from the ’70s, released by Finders Keepers two years ago, went into rotation at fashion boutiques and cafes nationwide: I was introduced to Bagcan in two different stores in Chicago on the same day. Her music was really sweeping the hipster nation.
But for me, Bagcan’s sounds were enchanting in their similarity to the dated but uplifting Israeli music I grew up listening to: crackly tapes of tapes of records by Poogy, Tzvicka Pick, Arik Einstein, and Boaz Shar’abi. “Other people like this stuff?” I thought. Well, German label Normal had correctly gambled in 2005 that they might, when they added a Turkish entry to its Love Peace and Poetry series, a line of compilations spotlighting artists in the psychedelic tradition from all over the world.
Love Peace and Poetry: Turkish Psychedelic Music starts with a track titled “Bundan Sonra” by Bagcan, the Turkish folk star who first hooked me. Like any nostalgia-driven trend, the mass penchant for Bagcan’s trippy washes of sound and dramatic vocal style, which had been thoroughly steamrolled out of the global pop lexicon by synthetic kick drums and vocoder way back in the ’80s, seemed contrarian and even ironic. Still, “Bundan Sonra” dispels any hint of clever disaffection. According to one online translation, the last verse mourns, “Death is what the Lord wisheth / Your words are wounds on my soul / Even if you were the bridge to heaven / I will not pass you anymore.” Serious stuff for us non-Turkologues to innocently take in while shopping for leg warmers.