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  • Te ricordi quella vorta che ce stavamo a affogà?....

    Ago 17 2007, 19h48

  • Dal Dopo Guerra, E' Tutto.

    Mar 24 2007, 19h23

    I sailed a wild, wild sea
    climbed up a tall, tall mountain
    I met a old, old man
    beneath a weeping willow tree
    He said now if you got some questions
    go and lay them at my feet
    but my time here is brief
    so you'll have to pick just three

    And I said
    What do you do with the pieces of a broken heart
    and how can a man like me remain in the light
    and if life is really as short as they say
    then why is the night so long
    and then the sun went down
    and he sang for me this song...



    See I once was a young fool like you
    afraid to do the things
    that I knew I had to do
    So I played an escapade just like you
    I played an escapade just like you
    I sailed a wild, wild sea
    climbed up a tall, tall mountain
    I met an old, old man
    he sat beneath a sapling tree
    He said now if you got some questions
    go and lay them at my feet
    but my time here is brief
    so you'll have to pick just three

    And I said
    What do you do with the pieces of a broken heart
    and how can a man like me remain in the light
    and if life is really as short as they say
    then why is the night so long
    and then the sun went down
    and he played for me this song

    M. Ward
    Chinese Translation

    Che cosa si può fare con i pezzi di un cuore spezzato?
    e come può un uomo come me rimanere nella luce?
    e se la vita è davvero breve come dicono
    perché la notte è così lunga ed il sole tramonta così presto?


    Piangete,
    Piangete pure.

    v.
  • Concerts à Emporter

    Jan 1 2007, 13h59

    Prendre un groupe, un chanteur. L’emmener dans un endroit des environs, brancher caméra et micro, et filmer un plan séquence, avec prise de son ambiante, d’un de ses morceaux joué comme ça, sur place et avec les moyens du bord. Ce sont des Concerts à emporter, et c’est le podcast vidéo de la Blogothèque



    Hidden Cameras, playing along the Canal Saint Martin after a show in Paris



    Emanuel, from I'm from Barcelona sings with 20 Parisian people in the streets



    Xiu Xiu improvising, experimenting, in a Parisian flat with a cello player. Lighters, beer cans, anything...



    Ramona Cordova and an abandoned railway under the bar La Flèche d'Or in Paris



    It was 7 P.M. The street was waking up, people coming home from work, doing laundry, buying bread for dinner. And amog them, Neman and David-Ivar Herman Dune played two songs



    Jens Lekman in a gym room in Mains d'Oeuvres, a concert place near Paris.

    [..]Nostre Armi sono le nostre canzoni.
    Nostro oro le voci squillanti.
    Prato, distenditi verde,
    copri il fondo dei giorni.
    Arcobaleno, da' un arco
    ai cavalli veloci degli anni.

    Vedete, il cielo s'annoia delle stelle!
    Senza di lui intrecciamo i nostri canti [..]

    Novembre, 1917.
    V. Majakovskij

    Bonne Année,
    A Tout Le Monde...

    (V)
  • Sometimes, It happens...

    Dez 26 2006, 11h48



    Now i'm thinking maybe i was stoned
    I felt my feet lift off the ground
    And my heart was screaming
    And my bones
    I need you closer

    As he's in the middle of the street
    Then i pretend he's mine to keep
    Cars are running fast on both sides of his head
    His eyes are "closer"

    Closer closer

    I met him when the sun was down
    The bar as closed
    We bloth have had no sleep
    My face beneath the streetlamp
    It reviews what it is lonely people seek

    Closer closer

    Closer closer

    Then you're close enough to lose
    Close to the point where you know that your mind
    It cannot choose
    Close enough to lose
    Close enough to lose
    Your heart

    Now i'm thinking maybe i was stoned
    I felt my feet lift off the ground
    And my heart was screaming
    And my bones
    I need you closer

    Closer closer

    He met me when the sun was down
    The barw as closed
    We bloth have had no sleep
    My face beneath the streetlamp
    It reviews what it is lonely people seek

    Closer closer
    Closer closer

    Then you're close enough to lose
    Close to the point where you know that your mind it cannot

    Choose
    Close enough to lose
    Close enough to lose
    Your heart

    The Tiny, Closer

    (V)
  • Hey bambina, cosa vuoi fare da grande?

    Dez 24 2006, 19h58

    Un tempo volevo fare la tronista di Maria de Filippi,
    Oggi voglio fare la chorus singer/dancer di Mariah.

    All i want for christmas is il coreografo di questo video.

    Un Genio,
    Un Innovatore.

    Tanti Auguri di Buon Natale,
    Tra gli sguardi ammiccanti di una Mariah 60's,
    e una tempesta di stelle filanti, colanti e (de)cadenti
    dai balconi delle vostre case in festa.

    Wishing you all the best,

    Vale.

  • The Camera Can Photograph a Song

    Dez 19 2006, 11h10

    Anyhow - I sat by your side, by the water
    You taught me the names of the stars overhead that I wrote down in my ledger
    Though all I knew of the rote universe were those pleiades loosed in december
    I promised you I‘d set them to verse so I'd always remember

    (Emily – Ys)



    From the top of the flight
    Of the wide, white stairs
    Through the rest of my life
    Do you wait for me there?

    (Sawdust And Diamonds – Ys)



    But I took my fishingpole (fearing your fever)
    Down to the swimminghole, where there grows bitter herb
    That blooms but one day a year by the riverside - i'd bring it here:
    Apply it gently
    To the love you've lent me

    (Only Skin – Ys)



    Why've you gone away
    Gone away again
    I'll sleep through the rest of my days
    If you've gone away again
    I sleep through the rest of my days
    And I sleep through the rest of my days
    And I sleep through the rest of my days

    Why've you gone away, away
    Seven suns, seven suns
    Away, away, away, away

    Can you hear me, will you listen
    Don't come near me, don't go missing
    In the lissome light of evening
    Help me, Cosmia, I'm grieving

    (Cosmia –Ys)



    Pictures : Tim Walker
    Words : Joanna Newsom

    (V)

    Tim Walker: A Review
  • Good evenin' Sir, may i ask you to lend me a song for a day?

    Dez 16 2006, 20h46



    /You might have seen me 'neath the pool hall lights.
    Well baby I go back each night.
    If you got a throat I got a knife.
    Steady rollin', I keep goin'.

    I don't mind how quick the seasons change.
    You know to me they's every one the same.
    The sweetest sunshine drips the drain.
    Death's comin', I'm still runnin'.

    Well I come from the old time baby,
    too late for you to save me.
    If I remain then I'm to blame.
    But if you should ever need me,
    I'll go where'er you lead me.
    It's all the same, the same old game.

    My lovin' lady she's a ball and chain.
    I still can travel but my speed has changed.
    I bring the money, I take the blame.
    Steady rollin', I keep goin'.

    But I shot my wife today,
    dropped her body in the Frisco bay.
    I had no choice it was the only way.
    Death's comin', I'm still runnin'.

    Well I come from the old time baby,
    too late for you to save me.
    If I remain then I'm to blame.
    But if you should ever need me,
    I'll go where'er you lead me.
    It's all the same, the same old game.

    Out waltzin' with the Holy Ghost,
    from the Bowery to the Barbary Coast.
    The land I'm from you know I love the most.
    Steady rollin', I keep goin'.

    And everyday is just another town.
    The more I search you know the less I've found.
    Me, I'm a sucker, just a slave to sound.
    Death's comin', I'm still runnin'.

    Well I come from the old town baby,
    where all the kids are crazy.
    If I remain then I'm to blame.
    But if you should ever need me,
    I'll go where'er you lead me.
    It's all the same, the same old game/...


    (V)
  • Serge, Le garçon qui a le don d'invisibilité

    Dez 10 2006, 14h06



    from "Histoire de Melody Nelson"

    /Label: Philips/Mercury
    Date Recorded: 1972/
  • Sometimes the night...

    Dez 5 2006, 23h41

    I wake up, but where? I don't just think this, I actually voice the question to myself: “Where am I?” As if I didn't know: I'm here. In my life. A feature in the world that is my existence. Not that I particularly recall ever having approved these matters, this condition, this state of affairs in which I feature. There might be a woman sleeping next to me. More often, I'm alone. Just me and the expressway that runs right next to my apartment and, bedside, a glass (five millimeters of whiskey still in it) and the malicious – no, make that indifferent – dusty morning light. Sometimes its raining. If it is, I'll just stay in bed. And if there's whiskey still left in the glass, I'll drink it. And I'll look at the raindrops dripping from the eaves, and I'll think about the Dolphin Hotel. Maybe I'll stretch, nice and slow. Enough for me to be sure I'm myself and not part of something else. Yet I'll remember the feel of the dream. So much that I swear I can reach out and touch it, and the whole of that something that includes me will move. If I strain my ears, I can hear the slow, cautious sequence of play take place, like droplets in an intricate water puzzle falling, step upon step, one after the other. I listen carefully. That's when I hear someone softly, almost imperceptibly, weeping. A sobbing from someone in the darkness. Someone is crying for me.




    Gazing at the rain, I consider what it means to belong, to become part of something. To have someone cry for me. From someplace distant, so very distant. From, ultimately, a dream. No matter how far I reach out, no matter how fast I run, I'll never make it.

    Why would anyone want to cry for me?

    Haruki Murakami - Dance Dance Dance (1988)