Gil Scott Heron

Gilbert "Gil" Scott-Heron (April 1, 1949 – May 27, 2011)[5] was an American soul and jazz poet,[2][3] musician, and author known primarily for his work as a spoken word performer in the 1970s and '80s, and for his collaborative works with musician Brian Jackson. His collaborative efforts with Jackson featured a musical fusion of jazz, blues, and soul, as well as lyrical content concerning social and political issues of the time, delivered in both rapping and melismaticvocal styles by Scott-Heron. His own term for himself was "bluesologist",[4] which he defined as "a scientist who is concerned with the origin of the blues".[note 1][6] The music of his albums, most notably Pieces of a Man and Winter in America in the early 1970s, influenced and helped engender later African-American music genres such as hip hop and neo soul.

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16 tone

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Levis - Sixteen Tons from David Toba on Vimeo.

Some people say a man is made out of mud
A poor man's made out of muscle and blood
Muscle and blood and skin and bones
A mind that's weak and a back that's strong

You load sixteen tons what do you get
Another day older and deeper in debt
Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I owe my soul to the company store

I was born one morning when the sun didn't shine
I picked up my shovel and I walked to the mine
I loaded sixteen tons of number nine coal
And the straw boss said well a bless my soul

You load sixteen tons what do you get
Another day older and deeper in debt
Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I owe my soul to the company store

I was born one morning it was drizzling rain
Fighting and trouble are my middle name
I was raised in the canebreak by an old mama lion
Ain't no high tone woman make me walk the line

You load sixteen tons what do you get
Another day older and deeper in debt
Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I owe my soul to the company store

If you see me coming better step aside
A lot of men didn't a lot of men died
One fist of iron the other of steel
If the right one don't get you then the left one will

You load sixteen tons what do you get
Another day older and deeper in debt
Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I owe my soul to the company store

Weekend again

Happy thoughts and smiles

Hustle

When I come home, you won't be there any more

When I come home, you won't be there any more

And you will tear off your clothes and kiss the floor

When I come home, home, home

When I see land you will conjuror up a storm

When I see land you will conjuror up a storm

And I will tie your hands to the highest mast

When I see land, land, land

And we will hustle, hustle, hustle to be free

Free from all the

Happy thoughts and smiles across the sea

In favour of the

Mean, mean, moves,

And back doors to the heart from where we

Always, always fall apart

And you will slide on the back seat of my bike

And you will slide on the back seat of my bike

And I will ride you home drunken in the rain

andd you will win again and again

Now it's your turn you will tie me to the tree

Now it's your turn you will tie me to the tree

And you will sing and sing, forever you and me

And in the dark you wonder what I see

And we will hustle, hustle, hustle to be free

Free from all the

Happy thoughts and smiles across the sea

In favour of the

Mean, mean, moves,

And back doors to the heart from where we

Always, always fall apart

Scurta istorie a artei - azi pictura

70 Million by Hold Your Horses ! from L'Ogre on Vimeo.

Elogiul lentorii

De curand am reinceput sa citesc. Zic reinceput pentru ca ce faceam in ultimii ani era o gluma, noaptea pe la 12 citeam juma' de pagina si cadeam lat. Uneori seara urmatoare citeam aceiasi jumatate. Din punctul asta de vedere ma bucur ca este criza.
Ce citesc acum este "Elogiul lentorii" si aici aveti o prezentare faina facuta de autor "In Praise of Slowness"- Carl Honore . N-am terminat-o insa am simtit nevoia sa v-o recomand. Ce pot sa va spun e ca citind-o am avut flashback-uri din diverse calatorii: o dupa amiaza insorita in care stateam la umbra si ma jucam cu niste pisici intr-o mica piata medievala din sudul Spaniei, o gara incremenita in timp de undeva din Transilvania, terasa unui mic bistro in Berlin unde se auzea dintr-o casa alaturata concertul pentru vioara a lui Ceaicovski, un schit sapat in piatra la Meteora (Grecia), o plimbare cu bunicul meu cu bicicletele pe camp (cand inca mai era doar camp la Pipera)...
Poate o fi si o chestiune de fire insa sunt convins ca se poate invata sa traiesti echilibrat asa cum s-a putut invata sa traiesti intr-o continua goana nebuna. Asa cum spune si autorul, adeptii miscarii Slow (caci este deja o miscare globala) nu sustin absurdul - ideea este sa faci lucrurile care trebuie repede - repede iar pe cele care cer timp - incet.
Este doar o problema de prioritati.

Cica se duce Vama Veche

Un prieten care traieste de ceva vreme in Belgia mi-a trimis un email scurt din care strabatea tristetea. Si un link.
Da, e adevarat, insa - sa fim seriosi - se duce de mult. De cand a inceput sa se construiasca pe plaja. De cand au inceput sa vina Ferrariuri si Lamborghiniuri. De cand a inceput sa se auda multa muzica ciudata pentru locurile alea. De cand nu mai vine acelasi gen de oameni care veneau odata, de cand...
Ar fi fost bine daca s-ar fi putut face ceva insa nu se putea sa-i spui bizonului "Mai frate, vrei exotism du-te in insule, uite - iti propun Insula Serpilor." Asa ca ramanem frumos cu amintirile noastre, cum la fel de bine ei or sa ramana cu amintirile lor. Ca asa-i in tenis.
Voi aveti amintiri de pe acolo?