Scepticalscribe
Cancelled
- Joined
- Aug 12, 2020
- Posts
- 6,644
Making Plans For Nigel - XTC
A nice contrast to Bartók: some Ghetto rap about hope.
...Hallowed be Thy name in the beginning there was no sin
We in the ninth inning, and I'm God body trying to win
Flying against the wind
But now my shell is weightless and fireproof
But the truth is I'm proof of living fire
I'm not made of organics, not even wires
Just felt my body light up and heard the choir
See, to the common fowl the phoenix is sire
Most high of all things to ever have wings
Existence is struggle, resistance is futile
Meanwhile we now possess the power of ten suns
To transcend and elevate into one
Famine, the disease and senseless dying is done
Pigeon bird got a breath left
Heart beat no more
Phoenix bird morph and we live off the G-force...
It's the fire-fangled feathers. Nice poem, BTW with some clever way to depersonalize the reader ("without human meaning" when it's full of meaning).Reminds me for some reason of a Wallace Stevens poem...
"Of Mere Being"
The palm at the end of the mind,
Beyond the last thought, rises
In the bronze decor,
A gold-feathered bird
Sings in the palm, without human meaning,
Without human feeling, a foreign song.
You know then that it is not the reason
That makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine.
The palm stands on the edge of space.
The wind moves slowly in the branches.
The bird’s fire-fangled feathers dangle down.
Goodbye Lenin - Yann Tiersen.
Wow, I definitely had to look that guy up (not Lenin lol)... somehow never heard of him!
He's the favorite composer of one of my best friends I used to make music with. For some reason I never delved into his music, even though I like piano pieces like this.Wow, I definitely had to look that guy up (not Lenin lol)... somehow never heard of him!
I wonder what my perception about Amélie would be these days. I've seen it 19 years ago and loved it. Interestingly I still like most of the same stuff my teenage self did, but my perceptions changed so much with fatherhood. Like lost in translation, I love the soundtrack just as much (maybe more), and love the movie just as much, but I see the characters completely differently.He is an exceptioally accomplished (and moody) musician and composer from Brittany (hence, the name Yann, rather than Jean).
His claim to fame (well, his initial claim to fame) is that he wrote the soundtrack of the movie Amélie (which comprises many of the tracks of his first three albums).
Brilliant stuff; indeed, - and my mother also loved his music - we went to see Amélie together in the cinema - I also had the privilege of hearing him him play live, and dear old Mother loved it, too, as I brought her to that concert.
He's the favorite composer of one of my best friends I used to make music with. For some reason I never delved into his music, even though I like piano pieces like this.
For some reason I prefer extremes when it comes to piano. Either shifting time signatures, or minimalism like this:
(from the soundtrack of Antonio Banderas' movie, El Camino De Los Ingleses [english title is a little to plain: Summer Rain]).
I wonder what my perception about Amélie would be these days. I've seen it 19 years ago and loved it. Interestingly I still like most of the same stuff my teenage self did, but my perceptions changed so much with fatherhood. Like lost in translation, I love the soundtrack just as much (maybe more), and love the movie just as much, but I see the characters completely differently.
It reminds me of a period when I was working night shifts, and I'd head out of work as the sun rose, and drive around the city in the early morning. And, I had this old Jeep with no heat, so the inside of the top would be covered in frost, and I'd just freeze my ass off until the engine warmed up the cabin.
I always dig stuff from Karen O, especially when she did stuff as part of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs—I often drove very fast to songs from Gold Lion just hammering at my speakers—but this little jam with Danger Mouse has been in my head all week.
It reminds me of a period when I was working night shifts, and I'd head out of work as the sun rose, and drive around the city in the early morning. And, I had this old Jeep with no heat, so the inside of the top would be covered in frost, and I'd just freeze my ass off until the engine warmed up the cabin.
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