Bon Iver

Segundo as crónicas Bon Iver (Justin Vernon), de 27 anos, refugiou-se numa remota cabana em Wisconsin com uma guitarra (companhia), uma arma (alimento) e um machado (calor). Tinha como objectivo procurar espaço. Acabou por realizar o seu primeiro disco e um dos melhores que tenho ouvido nos últimos tempos. Tudo isto sarando feridas, comendo veado e bebendo cerveja…

Chama-se o disco “For Emma, Forever Ago”.
A faixa: "The Wolves (Act I and II)"

Sandman

O meu Cobain, Joplin, hendrix ou Jim…
Sandman foi taxista antes de me reinventar...e ao baixo que tocava.
Uma faixa do primeiro disco dos Morphine “Good” de 1992.
Só é The Saddest Song porque já cá não está!

vale a pena recordar um pouco mais:

Contadores de histórias

A tradição narrativa de Cash não morrerá certamente. Um bom exemplo surge em Carolina Drama (projecto White - The Raconteurs).

Quem é quem ou onde está o White ?

I'm not sure if there's a point to this story
but im going to tell it again
So many other people trying to tell the tale
but not one of em knows the end

It was a junk house in South Carolina
Held a boy the age of ten
Along with his older brother billy his mother and her boyfriend
Who was a triple loser with blue tattoos
That were given to him when he was young
And a drunk temper that was easy to lose
that Thank god he didn't own a gun

Well Billy woke up in the back of his truck
Took a minute to open his eyes
He took a peep into the back of the house
And found himself a big surprise
He didnt see his brother but there was his mother
With a red-headed head in her hands
While the boyfriend had his gloves wrapped around an old priest
Trying to choke the man Ah...

Billy looked up from the window to the truck
Threw up and had to struggle to stand
He saw that redneck bastard with a hammer
turn the priest into a shell of a man
The priest was putting up the fight of his life
But he was old and he was bound to lose
The boyfriend hit as hard as he could
And knocked the priest right down to his shoes

Well now Billy knew but never actually met
The preacher lying there in the room
he heard himself say that must be my daddy
Then he knew what he was gonna do
Billy got up enough courage to get up
and grab the first blunt thing he could find
It was a cold glass bottle of milk
That was delivered every morning at nine. Ah...

Billy broke in and saw the blood on the floor
and he turned around and put the lock on the door
He looked straight into the boyfriend eye
His mother was a ghost too upset to cry
He took a step towards the man on the ground
From his mouth trickled out an inaudible sound
He heard the boyfriend shout Get out!
And Billy said not til I know what this is all about
Well this preacher here was attackin your momma
But Billy knew that she was caught in the drama
So Billy took dead aim at his face
Smashed the bottle on the man that left his dad in disgrace
The white milk dripped down with the blood
and the boyfriend fell dead for good
Right next to the preacher who was gaspin' for air
Billy shouted daddy why'd you have come back here?!
His Mother reached behind the sugar and honey and
Pulled out an envelope filled with money
Your daddy gave us this she collapsed in tears
He's being paying all the bills for years
Momma lets but this body underneath the trees
Put daddy in the truck and head for Tennessee
Just then his little brother came in
holding the milkman's hat and a bottle of gin

singin lalala lalala yeah
lalala lalala yeah
lalala lalala (3x)

Well now heard another side to the story
But you wanna know how it ends
If you must know the truth about the tale go and ask the milkman

audio visual

Com excepção do Lawrence (num registo completamente diferente) nunca o som casou tão bem com as imagens como em Dead Man.

Maurice Jarre embala, em teias de som, o sol enquanto este adormece nas areias do deserto…. Young desperta todos os fantasmas do novo mundo.



ps.....vejam a porra dos dois clips até ao fim sff!

Genéricos I

Quando a queca não aparece a enxaqueca agradece...timidamente!

Verde bandeirada

Sou pouco dado a análises político/sociais, pelo menos em público. A menos que pontapeadas por uma qualquer banda sonora. Ora surge uma boa razão para o fazer: os Táxi * em 1981 mastigam a chiclete profética (qual Nostradamus). Profetizam a geração dos recibos verdes apastilhadas numa qualquer noite do Lux – à noite o sabor perdura mais.
Carece na rusticidade do plástico o que sobeja da sua rosticidade pós-moderna.

Confesso-me chiclete e odeio ser mastigado. Mas, volto a dizer, prefiro-o a ser comido!



* João Grande -voz, Henrique Oliveira - guitarra, Rodrigo Freitas - bateria e Rui Taborda – baixo

Palhaçadas de Deus XVIII (...tipo)

Uma palhaçada de Deus conceptual. Do tipo: baralha e volta a dar.

O eterno retorno de Orwell em bonecos tão distintos de Alladin Sane.


Are you such a dreamer
To put the world to rights?
I'll stay home forever
Where two and two always makes a five

I'll lay down the tracks
Sandbag and hide
January has April's showers
And two and two always makes a five

It's the devil's way now
There is no way out
You can SCREAM and you can shout
It is too late now

Because...
You have not been!

Payin' attention
Payin' attention
Payin' attention
Payin' attention
You have not been paying attention

Payin' attention
Payin' attention
Payin' attention
You have not been paying attention

Payin' attention
Payin' attention
Payin' attention
You have not been paying attention

Payin' attention
Payin' attention
Payin' attention oohh

I try to sing along
But I get it all wrong
Cozimnot
Cozimnot

I swat 'em like flies but like flies the buggers keep coming back NOT
But I’m not

All hail to the thief
All hail to the thief

But I'm not
But I'm not
But I'm not
But I'm not

Don't question my authority or put me in the box
Cozimnot
Cozimnot

Oh go and tell the king that the sky is falling in

When it's not
But it's not
But it's not
Maybe not
Maybe not

Radiohead 2+2=5

Palhaçadas de Deus XVII

Será possível pegar no cinzento céu de Berlim e mandar pintá-lo de azul?
Veja-se o resultado !

Heroes - Sieff, Sacha & Manuel Armstrong, 2007

da estética

...gosto do desgosto que o mau gosto dá ao bom gosto! E, olhem, que não é Fé!

The sound of someone you love who's going away and it doesn't matter

Ao ouvir “The sound of someone you love who's going away and it doesn't matter”, às escuras, com uma boa aparelhagem, só apetece dizer: eu seja ceguinho se algum dia perder a minha capacidade auditiva.

“Music From The Penguin Café” é o primeiros álbum dos Penguin Cafe Orchestra.

Gravado entre 1974 e 1976 conta com:

Simon Jeffes (Guitarra eléctrica)
Helen Leibmann (Violoncelo)
Steve Nye (Piano eléctrico)
Gavyn Wright (violino)
Brian Eno (produtor)

“In 1972 I was in the south of France. I had eaten some bad fish and was in consequence rather ill. As I lay in bed I had a strange recurring vision, there, before me, was a concrete building like a hotel or council block. I could see into the rooms, each of which was continually scanned by an electronic eye. In the rooms were people, everyone of them preoccupied. In one room a person was looking into a mirror and in another a couple were making love but lovelessly, in a third a composer was listening to music through earphones. Around him there were banks of electronic equipment. But all was silence. Like everyone in his place he had been neutralized, made grey and anonymous. The scene was for me one of ordered desolation. It was as if I were looking into a place which had no heart. Next day when I felt better, I was on the beach sunbathing and suddenly a poem popped into my head. It started out 'I am the proprietor of the Penguin Cafe, I will tell you things at random' and it went on about how the quality of randomness, spontaneity, surprise, unexpectedness and irrationality in our lives is a very precious thing. And if you suppress that to have a nice orderly life, you kill off what's most important. Whereas in the Penguin Cafe your unconscious can just be. It's acceptable there, and that's how everybody is. There is an acceptance there that has to do with living the present with no fear in ourselves.”

Simon Jeffes (Sussex, England, 1949-1997)


· Peço desculpa aos PCO pelo corte que fiz na faixa….mas os seus mais de 11 minutos não permitiam o upload (inglês para partilha).

September

September

xxxxiiiiiuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!