Hey does someone know if this website http://tickets.waste.uk.com has something to do with the presale? Aha I'm so determined to get my tickets! And what's the matter with the presale code ? How can I get it and when I have it, what I have to do with it ?
Wanna see Radiohead live pleaaaaase
The King of Limbs by Sebastian Edge
added by Lady Newell & Friends- Curator WASTECENTRAL
http://twitter.com/#!/lady_newell
One year to the day the photographer Sebastian Edge made a number of wet collodion photographs of the band Radiohead, using his own hand built camera equipment.
Sebastian is currently working, three years into a growing body of work with the woods he grew up in, in Kent, England. when the project with the band collided.
This edition of the portrait of Thom, Ed, Collin, Jonny and Phil. Was for the press material for the The King of Limbs album, released February 14th 2011.
The hand made print by Sebastian, is being released through the North London Darkroom. where photographers make their own prints, to archival standards.
This print sale will help the North London Darkroom in its future endeavours with photographers to make photographs.
Thank you
North London Darkroom / www. londondarkroom.com
Sebastian Edge photographed Radiohead in the woods near their studio on the release day of TKOL. He is planning to sell a limited edition leather bound print of the picture he took that day. Money raised from the sales of the ltd print will go to fund the North London Darkroom.
The print is a contact print from the original wet plate negative, shot of the band Radiohead on the 14th February 2011. Using the finest quality Fiber based papers, and toned in a bath of Selenium.to increase the archival nature of the print.
It comes bound in a North London Darkroom, black hand made archival print folio, bearing the north London Darkroom stamp on the front and great care has been taken to ensure that each print will last for years, and reflect the love of the material and photograph. The folder passes museum standard photo activity tests to ensure the longevity of the print it houses
Contact us through the Facebook page or website. F or more information and for print.
http://www.sebastianedge.co.uk/
RADIOHEAD The King of Limbs TOURING 2012
by Lady Newell & Friends Curator WASTECENTRAL RADIOHEAD OFFICIAL WEBSITE
this blog is featured by W.A.S.T.E Central
2013 !!! Happy New Year to all 126,688 WASTE Central Members !
BIG UP WASTECENTRAL MEMBERS ! Thanks a lot for all your help / Gracias totales !
Big up Arico !
AUSTRALIA
Thanks Josephine/ Arico !
I Love my Radiohead brothers and sisters !
I hope we all get together some time soon.
Thanks everyone of youfor making a skinny old jazzer
feel so at home (:-) xxxxxxxxxx
SIDNEY
Thanks Josephine !
Thom DJ Set Radiohead Afterparty Thanks Arico !
SIDNEY NIGHT 1
Thansk Arico / Josephine !!
Brisbane Australia
Thanks Josephine /Arico/ Cybernic !
AUCKLAND NEW ZEALAND
Thanks Arico ! Thanks Peter !
STRASBOURG Soundcheck photo by Jonny Greeenwood
ANTWERP BELGIUM
STRASBOURG
pic by Nico! via Radiohead France
AMSTERDAM
Finally, they performed A Wolf at the Door Tour debut .
Thanks Josephine , Arico, Vanessa, Shamus !!
Soundcheck in Bercy photo by Jonny Greenwood
PARIS
Jonny talks in french before Give up the Ghost: "euh, notre chanteur a peur de parler français, moi j'ai peur de parler du tout. Nous voulons juste dire que nous sommes heureux d'être ici à Paris " "our singer doesn't dare to speak in french and I don't dare to speak at all. We just want to say we're happy to be here in Paris."
Thanks Radiohead France !!
Thanks Josephine ! Thanks Marylin !
PARIS NIGHT 1
Pics by Nigel Godrich !!!
Thanks Josephine !
Who's excited for the new album?
(raises hand)
This is probably the best thing to happen this year.
The first thing I could
see was the dirty boot-heels walking at a slant towards the bright light
breaking though the dense trees. The colour came seeping back, dark green
leaves shining, rich brown rot of old leaves and loamy soil. I could smell the
earth’s musk; it curled and coiled into my nostrils insistently. The damp
cooled my cheek pressed firmly to the ground. I wanted to get up; I knew I had
to get up; I stayed sprawled beneath the tree, across the narrow path. I
focused instead on the dirty boot-heels and their owner. For an instant I could
see the stiff-legged strut stutter into the fluid gait of the tall
glossy-haired young man walking away. As he stepped out of the shadows into the
afternoon, I felt life crawling back into my limbs—all tingles and jangling
nerves. It made me shake as I sat up and leaned against the tree. I pulled off
my neckerchief to wipe the muck from my face. My fingertips brushed my neck; my
skin felt strange, emptied. I expanded my diaphragm and the air came whistling
in, sharp and cool. I held it in my lungs, rounded my lips, and… the air came
rushing out, aspirated and moist.
I put my hand to my
chest to stop the arrhythmia, the sudden tunneling of vision. A second later I
tried to clear my throat –not even the hoarse phlegmy grunt gurgled under my
hiss of breath. It was gone, completely gone! I rubbed my throat and down to
collar bones, tracing my trachea. The strap was gone too, the pretty shiny
crystal my cousin had presented to me with mystical fanfare. The one I had
fawned over in that booth in Camden. I dug my fingers into the loose loam; my
hands found nothing but skeletal leaves and disgruntled bugs. I stood up,
propping myself against the tree. I swept the ground with my right foot then my
left in ever increasing circles—nothing. I turned to face where I had been. The
path looked back innocently. I gulped air for a massive, soundless scream. I
stamped my feet instead. I pouted. I shook my fists. I shook my head.
I turned back to the
path I had yet to cover and walked towards the bright afternoon. The path
widened out into open daylight. I looked up from pointlessly scanning the
ground and tripped, leaning forward but not falling. I caught my breath, rested
my hands on my knees, straightened up. I looked to my left at the world sloping
away, to my right where the ground lumbered up like a dragon’s back with trees
for scales. I looked straight up at the periwinkle sky and the golden curve of
the afternoon sun. I put both hands in my dreads and pulled them back. I could
do with a good and lengthy scream to stop the tears stinging the corner of my
eyes. I turned all the way around slowly until I faced the quiet wood. The
trees seemed the same. There was the old oak with the odd crooked fingered
branch that should have been pointing at the steeple of the village church,
pointing at a fluffy pinkish cloud floating over the lea.
I bowed my head and
forced air through my nostrils; it was the loudest expression of anger I could
muster. I lost my voice and my way. I couldn’t understand either loss. I had
managed to sing without croaking that morning. I had even caught my cousin
wiping a tear from her eyes—it was always her favourite hymn. I had walked this
path by myself just fine all month long. How could I have lost my voice and my
way? I crossed my arms against the cool breeze running through the path between
the trees. The sun was sinking its way to rest and the gloom gathered thick
under the trees, already deeper than twilight. I stepped back quickly—I felt my
head grow big. I took another step back and slipped, tumbling down the incline.
I was pinned to the
grass in the fading light, and there he was again, the young man, striding
along the horizon. It had to be him. The landscape was empty otherwise. I
gathered myself together slowly. I was in one piece, but I had to pull the
strings tight again, retie the knot that held me all together. I forced my arms
and legs to coordinate with my head, hoisting myself up on all fours as the
young man crested the horizon and disappeared. My blood started pumping hard. I
jumped up and kicked my legs out into a graceless gambol across the grass. I picked up speed, swinging my arms for
momentum. I leaned forward into the run, covering ground so fast that I soon
discovered the horizon was a ledge separating land from bright purple twilit
sky, and the air rushed about me like a flurry of wings. I was turning
somersaults against the liquid glaze of deepening night. White blue stars
spangled the lush purple around me. I wasn’t falling, just spinning like a ship
out of orbit in space. There were no more reference points above or below, only
stars. I closed my eyes.
I could still hear the
flutter and fury of wings in flight, but my back pressed against a warm, soft
down. I opened my eyes and the stars were streaking by. I stretched my arms;
there were feathers extending past my finger tips. I rolled over cautiously.
Glossy black feathers brushed my cheeks. All around me smaller birds kept pace,
silent, concentrating on the flap-glide pattern smaller birds use to fly. One
or two at a time would hop onto the giant bird’s back to catch a moment’s rest.
They all stared at me. Some nodded hello, some tutted and shook their heads.
They felt sorry for me, I could tell. I wanted to ask why, opened my mouth and
let out a hiss. That’s why. We were approaching a shore. I could smell the
freshness of the water, the sweetness of trees flirting with wind and insects.
I looked over the bird’s shoulder. A lake sparkled in the darkness, suddenly
solid and reassuring. Trees stood in clumps round the bank, ladened with flowers and fruits of all colours and descriptions,
an explosion of fecundity.
I was gaping at it all
when the giant bird banked sharply to the right and I lost my grip. I was
spinning again in open space, falling like a kite that had lost the wind. I could
see the lake growing, closing in. it had the ageless gaze of a giant turtle’s
eyes. Wisdom still and glassy, waiting for me to enter. The lake reflected the stars on its smooth
black surface. I met the stars, went through them. translucent jellyfish went
by like so many kings and queens across the Savannah stage. they towered over
me, swaying, dancing. I followed behind. I moved along, but I can’t say how. I just
kept moving until I could feel the sandy bottom.
And I was walking out
of the water onto the shore. I felt strange breathing air again. I looked up at
the trees. Everything was technicoloured, dazzling. The fruits hung low, plentiful,
enormous. A mango, as big as my head, brushed the grass. It was bright, rosy,
out of place like me. We were fish out of water, sort of; two tropical things
interloping in this temperate place. I felt homesick and turned to watch the
lake. The water was crisp and blue, reflecting a mid-morning sky. Peace enveloped
me. I was part of this. I had done nothing wrong. For the moment it felt like
nothing wrong had been done to me. I watched the dragon flies flying in the
sunlight for a long time, my toes splayed in the soft dirt, my shoulders
relaxed. The lake sighed, lapping the shore with slow undulations like the
contented drowsy movements of an innocent child at breakfast. I smiled.
The sun arced and
dipped. It was turning to night again. The horizon was bleeding a bright
vermillion into the fading blue sky. I looked away and noticed the foot prints
on the ground, leading into the trees. They hadn’t been there before. I knew
they were his. I knew I had to follow him. The trees parted for me, nodding
their fruit-and-flower-garlanded heads. Go
on, they said, remember you’ve done
nothing wrong. I followed the footprints into the hush of the forest. I walked
for a while. I could hear birds settling in the trees, gossiping in shrill
whistles, cacophonous caws, sweet melodies. One of those melodies sounded
vaguely familiar. It was mocking and drawing me on, always repeating itself
ahead of me.
I started running. The trees
whipped by. I jumped up and landed on a sward, a little circle of turf in the
middle of the trees. I came face to face with the young man. He had sleek black
hair, a bright white waistcoat. He regarded me with the blackest, shiniest
eyes, full of mischief and challenge. I stood my ground. He smiled. I did not. It
was as if the sun had reserved its last rays for this spot. Sunlight danced off
of us. He bowed low, gesturing, offering me a seat on the grass. We sat facing
each other in the lotus position. He started singing. He started singing my
song. In my voice. My voice! I put my hand to my throat. He mimicked me. His long,
thin fingers brushed my crystal round his neck. He sang louder, smiling wider. I
unfolded slowly out of the lotus position. He did the same. We stood up. I reached
across the gap, but he stepped back. I lunged forward, but he leapt into the
air, half bird half man. I caught his foot and yanked him back down. He stopped
smiling. We faced each other, looking into each other’s eyes. I didn’t blink. He
didn’t flinch. We held each other’s gaze for so long.
I reached out my hand
slowly. My fingertips brushed the crystal. I opened my mouth. Words twisted
out, jumbled. I gripped the crystal. We never stopped our staring match.
You’ve got some nerve. (croaked)
Coming here? (soft but solid)
Yes.
But you sssstole it. Give it back.
No.
I want it back
Apologize
I wanted to blink, but to blink was to lose.
Why?
Because…
Why?
Don’t blow your mind with why. Because.
I yanked the crystal, but the cord would not give.
I’ve done nothing wrong!
My eyes stung with frustration, but I stared
all the harder, angry till it burst out of me. He was now almost entirely a
bird, except for his face. A giant bird with glossy black feathers and a white
throat. The sun was up again, morning bright. I smiled. A memory was stirring—something
my cousin had told me once, a funny local custom.
You stole it off. Give it back, Mr. Magpie.
No
You know you should
But I won’t.
Good morning, Mr. Magpie, how’s your wife today?
He smiled, cawed and beat his wings. The
sky filled with black feathers. Everything went blank—inky dark.
I
was standing by the tree where it had all started. I looked up at the branches.
A magpie bobbed its head at me. I nodded back. “Good morning, Mr. Magpie. How
are you today?” It shifted on the branch and flew away. I took a deep breath
and burst out singing. I sang all the way back to my cousin’s house near the
end of the village road past the church, swinging the crystal on its cord in my
hand.
First of all, I'm french so... sorry for my poor language
All this day, i saw posts about "The universal Sight" and poor fans that will not have one. Ok, it's sad (I'm one of them)
But we have to remember that RH are... musicians and the best they have to offer (if your not one of their friends or family member and love them for who they are) is this beautiful, visceral, and universal music. So, I'm going back to the King of Limbs.
what I hope from them is not paper... it's more and more music.
HI!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NV4xhsYvU2g
I SAW THIS ONE FANTASTIC FULL VIDEO RADIOHEAD NEW SONGS OF THE KINGS OF LIMBS ALBUM!
IT'S REALLY AMAZING!
BUT, I THINKING THAT IT'S SO DIFFERENT FROM IN RAINBOWS!
AND SEEMS LIKE A LITTLE COLD, DEPRESSED AND VERY MUCH ELECTRONIC TOO!
I MISS THESE HARD ED, JONNY GUITARS AND PHIL DRUMMS SO MUCH AS WELL THESE GOOD MOMENTS LIVED DURING IN RAINBOWS AGE!
I MISS THAT ONE SONG "THESE ARE MY TWISTED WORDS"!IT'S A PRECIOUS SONG AND DON'T APPEAR IN THE ALBUM!
I DON'T LIKE IT!
BUT, IT'S ALL RIGHT BECAUSE THE GUYS WORKED HARD AND GOOD!
THIS SONG NAME "CODEX" IS MY FAVOURITE AT MOMENT!
ENJOY!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hSd6mr5B0eA
THIS SONG MAKES ME REMEMBER THAT ONE GREAT "PIRAMID SONG" AND I LIKE THIS STYLE, ATMOSPHERE SO MUCH!
THIS ALBUM SEEMS LIKE ONE THOM YORKE SOLO ALBUM MORE THAN RADIOHEAD ALBUM!
WELL, I STILL DON'T FEEL USUAL LISTENING THIS NEW ALBUM AND ALL THE SONGS SEEMS STRANGE FOR ME.
BUT IT'S A MASTERPIECE, NO DOUBT!
THANK YOU, GUYS!
WELL, ED O' BRIEN POSTED ON DAS AGAIN TALKING THAT IT'S FULL MOON NIGHT...AND I THINK THEY WAS INFLUENCED FOR THE MOON, WINTER, ATMOSPHER MUSIC, WORKING ON THIS ALBUM!
CHECK THE POST ON THE RADIOHEAD OFFICIAL PAGE DAS, DEAD AIR SPACE!
ED IS AMAZING, FUNNY, CHEERFUL POSTING IT, AS ALWAYS!
GOOD LUCK, GUYS!
RADIOHEAD BRIGHTEN MY DAYS, MY LIFE!
LOVE ALWAYS!
natercia(PLANET ED O' BRIEN)
THANK YOU ED, COLIN, PHIL, TOM, JONNY, NIGEL FOR THE MASTERPIECE THE KINGS OF LIMBS!
IT MAKES MY DAY, LIFE ALWAYS!
I FEEL VERY GOOD, HAPPY WITH NEW ALBUM, NEWS, PICTURES...
CONGRATULATIONS!
YOU ARE THE BEST!
LOVE YOU!
YOU LOOKS SO AMAZING, GOOD LOOKING ON THESE PICTURES!
ED IS ABSOLUTELY VERY SEXY ONE , GOOD LOOKING!
THANK YOU FOR ALL!
LOST OF LOVE!
natercia(PLANET ED O' BRIEN)
Radiohead have revealed that their eighth studio album, The King Of Limbs, will be released on Saturday, 19 February.
A link on the band's official website, which simply reads "Thank You For Waiting", leads to a pre-order page.
Unlike the honesty box payment system the group pioneered with their last album, In Rainbows, the new record has been given a fixed price.
In the UK, it will cost £6.00 for an MP3 copy, compatible with most digital music players. A full, CD-quality download is also available for £9.00.
A special edition, described as a "Newspaper Album", comes with two clear 10" vinyl records, a CD copy of the album, and hundreds of pieces of artwork. Those won't be ready before May, but anyone who purchases the special edition can also download the digital tracks this weekend.
Speaking to 6 Music last year, guitarist Ed O'Brien said the band had adopted a new approach to recording, after an arduous three-year slog making In Rainbows.
"We decided at the end of the record never to do it like this again," he said. "That was kind of the end of Radiohead mark two."
"It's genuinely exciting. It's very different from what we did last time."
IT'S VERY COOL GUYS!
RADIOHEAD POSTED ON DAS GIVE THANKS FOR WAITING US
So after many attempts I figure it's worth just giving up on the old MT (which for some reason after countless attempts has never allowed me to post.. still no idea why) and moved into a life of lurking. Funny how a album release can bring you back to notice old things but it's reassuring for a bit of nice quiet.It's been interesting to follow the discussions on 'conspiracy' over Chieftain Mews and co. but most of all to see how downright hopeless the main news sources are at following a story if they actually have to -search- rather then wait for it to come to them.
What really bugs me is how the Financial Times (and thus the world copying on it's toes) was ready to beat the drum that the pay-what-you-want model was 'dead' and yet being a Aussie who believe it or not doesn't own a credit card the real exciting thing about the release of King of Limbs was that unlike In Rainbows it wasn't a matter of price but the fact that I (and anyone else with a email address and a bank account) COULD Pay for the album. Where where the stories there? Instead of running with the fact that they have managed to make the prospects of paying a reasonable amount (which is still waaay cheaper then playing hit and miss with the local cd store) better prospects then playing pot luck with Torrents. I think I saw a interview ages ago with Ed pointing out the very simple fact that it's impossible to make people pay for music if they don't have the system in place to do so.
When In Rainbows was released I clicked and got curious to see the 'It's up to you' but really it wasn't because it was either a case of trying to explain to my Dad why I needed to borrow his credit card to buy a cd or wait the three weeks or whatever it was and 3 cd stores to find one that stocked In Rainbows on release (adding another week or two on account of living in a rural town on the wrong side of the planet). This time I got the message 2nd hand though my boyfriends facebook (which I avoid), checked the website (squeeded for a bit) banged my head against the computer a couple of times (Turns out Firefox4 Beta does not like the cookies) did what apparently none of the mediafolks did and clicked on 'pay with paypal' and wola, all good and easier then buying a used record player on ebay. Awesome... which reminds me that a record player should probably be on the shopping list now. (My big thoughts on what was coming last year was - Better by a Record Player. This year is: It's all about dancing!)
The world has changed, I remember the first thing I ever bought online was the 'Book' special edition of Amnesiac, I also saw the future death of the record industry the day I made a bus trip 2 towns over to buy The Eraser, only to find that the major cd store didn't have it because they 'don't carry independent artists' .. ignoring the White Stripe cds they had on the other shelf who where also on XL. They offered to order it in for me. I walked across town and bought it at a smaller chain related to the store I used to visit, the guy there was nice and knew me well enough to order in Com Lag just for fans. I had the misfortune of being stuck in a queue a McDonalds thanks to my best mate when King of Limbs was released.. talk about timing, if i'd remembered the free mcWifi I could have logged in and downloaded the album onto my phone while waiting for chips, no app, no drm, just good old mp3 files to a cheap android handset.. that's a real revolution right there!
In short, Thank you Radiohead + Management for making the album fair even for us little folks stuck out at sea :)
"i dont wanna be your friendi just want t be your loverno matter how it endsno matter how starts"
