terça-feira, 7 de outubro de 2008
domingo, 5 de outubro de 2008
...
That John Lennon was an emotionally tortured individual, often consumed by rage, unprocessed grief and a lifelong fear of abandonment, should come as no surprise to anyone who has paid close attention to his often brutally honest and occasionally self-lacerating songs. What emerges most strongly, though, from this epic trawl through Lennon's life is just how emotionally tortured he was for most of it and how his own demise was foreshadowed by the deaths of those closest to him: Julia, Epstein and his teenage soulmate and fellow bohemian Stuart Sutcliffe, who died at 21 from a brain haemorrhage in Hamburg in 1962.For a while, the music he made assuaged his demons, as did, fleetingly, his dalliances with LSD, heroin, alcohol, primal therapy and radical politics, all documented here in greater detail than before. Likewise, his complex and, for a while, all-consuming relationship with Yoko. The cruellest irony of Lennon's death at the hands of a devoted-to-the-point-of-unhinged fan is that it happened at a time when he seemed to have found a degree of contentment through the simple domestic pleasures of late fatherhood. How, one wonders, would he have fared with encroaching old age?
The Observer, 05 Out 08
sábado, 4 de outubro de 2008
sexta-feira, 3 de outubro de 2008
quinta-feira, 2 de outubro de 2008
...
De facto, chega a ser triste... um País onde quase ninguém faz nada digno de registo. Dos empresários que só esperam pela mama do Estado, aos artistas que vivem da mama do Estado, aos sindicatos que de tanto protestarem já nem sabem porque protestam, aos opinadores que tanto opinam que já só desatinam. Como eu o compreendo.
quarta-feira, 1 de outubro de 2008
terça-feira, 30 de setembro de 2008
segunda-feira, 29 de setembro de 2008
...
Esta chica es una pieza de museo
París prepara una retrospectiva sobre el trabajo de la modelo Kate Moss
París prepara una retrospectiva sobre el trabajo de la modelo Kate Moss
...
Ariana Lallone and Stanko Milov performing in the Pacific Northwest Ballet's “All Tharp” program (The New York Times)
domingo, 28 de setembro de 2008
...
the man in 119 takes his tea alone
mornings we all rise to wireless Verdi cries
I’m hearing opera through the door
the souls of men and women impassioned all
their voices climb and fall; battle trumpets call
I fill the bath and climb inside singing
he will not touch their pastry
but every day they bring him more
gold from the breakfast tray, I steal them all away
and then go and eat them on the shore
I draw a jackal-headed woman in the sand
sing of a lover's fate sealed by jealous hate
then wash my hand in the sea
with just three days more I’d have just about learned the entire score to Aida
holidays must end as you know
all is memory taken home with me
the opera the stolen tea the sand drawing the verging sea all years ago
Natalie Merchant, Verdi Cries
[uma das minhas canções de sempre]
mornings we all rise to wireless Verdi cries
I’m hearing opera through the door
the souls of men and women impassioned all
their voices climb and fall; battle trumpets call
I fill the bath and climb inside singing
he will not touch their pastry
but every day they bring him more
gold from the breakfast tray, I steal them all away
and then go and eat them on the shore
I draw a jackal-headed woman in the sand
sing of a lover's fate sealed by jealous hate
then wash my hand in the sea
with just three days more I’d have just about learned the entire score to Aida
holidays must end as you know
all is memory taken home with me
the opera the stolen tea the sand drawing the verging sea all years ago
Natalie Merchant, Verdi Cries
[uma das minhas canções de sempre]
...
Aprender, pois. O Luís M. Jorge regista que Marcelo despachou o Magalhães em 3 segundos, enquanto estava a divulgar os livros. E ainda teve tempo para dizer mal. Presume-se, pois, que o Magalhães tenha sido analisado com a mesma notória profundidade com que o Professor "lê" os livros que recomenda.
...
Na bicha do Continente (era bicha, mas podem chamar-lhe fila se isso vos deixar mais descansados...), uma daquelas famílias meio suburbanas. O filho, na casa dos 18-20, todo vestido de branco, ténis incluídos, cabelo rapado e um terço (budista?) ao peito. Às tantas, saca do carrinho de compras uma garrafa de litro e meio de 7Up. À parte aquela coisa do gás em excesso e o sabor a lava-loiça de limão, também sempre achei a 7Up uma bebida totalmente zen.
sábado, 27 de setembro de 2008
...
I went to a cobbler
To fix a hole in my shoe
He took one look at my face
And said, "I can fix that hole in you"
I beg your pardon
I'm not looking for a cure
Seen enough of my friends
In the depths of the godsick blues
You know I am a liar
You know I am a liar
Nobody helps a liar
Because I've been down to Dixie
And dropped acid on my tongue
Tripped upon the land
Until enough was enough
I was a little bit lighter
And adventure on my sleeve
I was a little drunk
And looking for company
So I found myself a sweetheart
With the softest of hands
We were unlucky in love
But I'd do it all again
We build ourselves a fire
We build ourselves a fire
But you know I am a liar
You know I am a liar
And you don't know what I've done
By the rolling river is
Exactly where I was
There was no simple cure
For unlucky in love
To be lonely is a habit
Like smoking or taking drugs
And I've quit them both
But man, was it rough
Now I am tired
It just made me tired
Let's build ourselves a fire
Let's build ourselves a fire
sexta-feira, 26 de setembro de 2008
quinta-feira, 25 de setembro de 2008
...
america é uma daquelas canções que nunca me habituarei a ouvir noutras vozes. conheço-lhe todas as respirações. mesmo que bowie, circunstancialmente, por amor a nyc, consiga com ela criar um dos momentos mais comoventes da história da música.
Subscrever:
Mensagens (Atom)