The unassailable logic of our warped and twisted universe states that it will always piss down on a bank holiday. Fucking rain. The sky I am gazing absent-mindedly out at is indecently miserable. People could be out in the sun, the fresh air, maybe even enjoying themselves, but no... had to rain, didn't it. Instead, the populace will be reduced to traipsing glumly round shopping centres and supermarkets and garden centres, indulging in a spot of rainy-day commercialism, a retailer's wet-dream, while sincerely wishing with all their sweet little hearts that they were somewhere else. Bless 'em.The predictability of this scenario probably says something about the crushing mundanity of 21st century existence but, to be honest, the soul-sappingly depressing weather means I just can't be bothered. Ho hum. Tomorrow is fairly likely to be another day...
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pas bcp de changement pour les accordspar contre, j'ai refait des gammes (ça faisait longtemps): score - 194 bpm! jusque là, c'était vers 170
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Despite the way the show worked out, I guess I should make a brief note about what I thought of it, in the blogging spirit. Two weeks later, I remember:...liking the music more than I did when I saw them five years ago, but being less affected. Then, it was sufficiently exciting that I felt changed and motivated for a few days. I thought the occasional dose of extremely loud noise might be the solution to something or other. The guitar slashes in Creep, of all things, were joyously, incredibly loud, with white flashes of light. Anyway, the bold plans basically fizzled, and now either I'm too jaded to be affected like that anymore, or I simply didn't work myself into nearly the same kind of anticipation as last time.But the songs on In Rainbows are on average a lot better than those from Hail to the Thief, and especially so live. They seemed to be enjoying themselves. (It was one of their first opportunities to perform in several years, after all.) Given the weather, the predominantly rocksong setlist was perfect. I love Pyramid Song, but wasn't keen to hear anything without a heavy beat. I love No Surprises, but was hoping they wouldn't play it.I'm not quite the fan I was years ago, and it was good to have doubts swept away. They really are a proper rock band, and a terrific one, in almost every way....Jonny and Colin wearing t-shirts most of the time. I took this as a gesture of solidarity with the crowd....Jonny's enthusiasm, moving around as happily as ever while playing his guitar. That a song like Fake Plastic Trees can have that kind of guitar in it, and the whole fit together so nicely, is really worth appreciating....checking my phone every five minutes to see if the very nice Craigslist people who'd driven me there (out on the lawn) were telling me that they couldn't take it anymore. They didn't call, and afterward, when I finally dared to ask them how it was, they didn't seem too traumatized. I wonder if I missed it, though. I also felt guilty about not trying to smuggle them into the pit, which could have stood another few hundred people, if only for warmth, evacuation standards notwithstanding. Was a wristband all that was needed to re-enter the pit? But finding them would have been kind of difficult.
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Radiohead won the Ivor Novello award for the best album of 2007. Amy Winehouse also won the Best Song Musically and Lyrically award while my all time fav David Gilmour won the Lifetime Achievement Award!Click here for the Ivor Novello winnersRead more…
The sixth member of Radiohead, Nigel Godrich, will now produce of rapper Q-Tip. The MC announced this in his interview for Los Angeles Times.For more info about this cooperation click hereRead more…
todayМіжнародний фестиваль «Jazz Коктебель. Kyiv Weekend»Тріо О. БоголюбоваКарл Фріерсон (солист "De Phazz")tomorrow“Jazz in Kiev” та О. КоганFatimaSpar & The Freedom Friesand alsohttp://www.freefat.com.ua/main-stage.htmlmusicmusicmusicmusic
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I think I have found my soul-mate. That’s scares me pretty much. I begin to feel I can’t stay long apart. I like to talk, I like to watch, I like to listen and I’m totally comfortable with it. I can even say I like to stay mute, for no reason as well.. But scare to open to the end, I still hide much inside me.. There will be appropriate time, later, I’m sure will. Though I wish it had already been happened. I’m so terrified, and happy, I laugh all the time being around and being with him. I do feel myself so very calm and confident. And also I know I fill him with joy and happiness just like he does to me and this is the most exciting thing – to share warmth and sincerity between us two. Something beautiful is happening to me these days)
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Not much to write these days... Work takes most of my day, sleep and idling use the rest.Can't help but get angry at myself for not taking time for all the stuff that matters, feeling apathic, want to go back to bed, in the dark, and WAIT. I don't know what I'm waiting for, but that's all I'm doing. Not even thinking, what a shame. Still have to install the new Firefox release and test it. Have been told bad stuff about it, hmmm. Still have to find a white dress for tonight. Cosplay party, I'd like to go as Sadako Yamamura from the リング trilogy, but I need the dress, and something to dye my hair. Might be fun to wander in the streets barefoot and in a white dress, it's warm enough.I've been out last night, idiotic business party ; speeches and drinking in a place you cannot access if you don't have a car ; crawl back in your head until you can get to the people you know and try to have fun (and make fun of others & listen to the firm gossip. That's actually the best part. Tongues definetely loosen in these parties, and you learn sooo much material). Hopefully (or not), I got there just as the managers speech ended (a shame, really), I had work to finish as soon as possible, might have to work this weekend, etc. I didn't want to go anyway. Was dragged by fellow coworkers (shit) with the promise of having fun and(as long as I was concerned for not having eaten all day) free food. The place was nice, enough trees to forget the big road just around the corner, and for once we got lucky with the weather. It was warm, it was sunny, the end-of-spring air was light and when I arrived (after struggling to park the car) I felt that, if I could find food and activate my selective hearing chip, maybe, just maybe, I could get through the night.The beginning wasn't so bad after all. Laughed for a while with a few people, made fun of others while others made fun of me, got my hand around a wiimote (4 wiis & 8 wiimotes for 250/300 more or less geek people, can you believe that ?)."We ate the food (they obviously didn't know how to cook meat on a barbecue, but dessert was great, first strawberry of the year !), we drank the wine, everybody having a good time..." (been listening to Achtung Baby these days, I forgot it was such a good record.). I didn't even talk about the end of the world, but had a nice conversation about Pierre Desproges. And about the difference between fandom and passion. Yeah, probably the best part of the night.Then music started, organizers probably expecting us to dance on the shit they put on, and I made a dignified exit. Had fun again when it was time to leave, for the guy I was taking home was struggling to understand how the provided alcootest worked, then marvelling at the green spreading beyond the limit. Kept mine for my flatmate, I'm sure he'll be moved by the gesture.We managed to get lost on the way home, which is nice even though I was a bit tired. I hope I'll never have to buy a GPS. I never could understand the use of it. Having a computerised voice telling you where to go reminds me of my driving class ; and mostly, how can you get lost if someone tells you where to go ? Well, seeing your parents reading maps when you go on holidays surely wrap your mind about how to go somewhere, or maybe I'm old before age.Read more…
ETHER
Reporter: El Nómade /Translation Committee: Spanish to English: Eraser & Queen H / Edition: Traductor Borgeano
Today is Thursday, and I’ve been in London for a week now. As I was saying, I arrived from Barcelona at the beginning of the Easter break to spend the holidays with Paul. The city’s still cold and spring hasn’t exactly sprung, but I can take just about anything if it means not having to put up with the Catholic fervour being unleashed back in Spain.
My reunion with Paul is going very well--which is reassuring--because we hadn’t seen each other for almost two months. We’ve been together for years. Maybe our relationship has lasted so long and been so intense because the distances forces us into a lack of routine, though it’s something I pay dearly for in my bouts of feeling neglected.
He wants me to stay and live in London, though not necessarily together. Work is easy to find here as Paul has a lot of contacts through the magazine, and he’s willing to give me a hand. A couple of months ago I covered Fashion Week and sold some pictures I took to Spanish Vogue for a good price. Paul tells me he knows the guys that work with Testino but, who knows, I don’t want to get my hopes up. Besides, I don’t plan on closing my studio back in Barcelona, and the thought of settling down doesn’t appeal to me. A brief stay here might be a better idea, and this really is a fantastic city. It’s as if history was again happening here.
Besides, there’s the endless gossip on the Windsor’s, and you know how fascinating I find gossip. Here’s the latest: for Prince Charles to finally be able to marry his long-time lover, he has to apologize in writing to Camila’s ex-husband for having had an affair with his ex-wife. The Anglican Church is making him apologize, otherwise they won’t give them their blessing. Isn’t that crazy! Something like that could only happen in a country full of eccentrics.
Well, I won’t go on. I know you’re waiting to hear about the Ether Festival, so I’ll get to the point. Since Lady Newell couldn’t go she’s been pestering me about it for the last few weeks by IM, so this time I’m the one who gets to play reporter.
As you know, Radiohead are not my favourite band by any stretch of the imagination. Their music is so depressing, and I can’t stand that freakish singer of theirs. But, as you can imagine, being with Paul who covers all types of musical events… And anyway, I think the only thing the French have any respect for from England are Radiohead. I didn’t really have much choice but to go with him to the Johnny Greenwood and London Sinfonietta show at Ether.
According to Paul, the arrangement is something like this: Greenwood was hired by the London Sinfonietta to be a guest composer for three years and to compose contemporary classical music. That’s how Paul defines it. It’s a bit like Cage’s music; it’s the new classical. The London Sinfonietta is a very prestigious orchestra with ties to the BBC. They’re considered avant-garde here, and have a lot people who support this particular kind of music. I’d call it “elitist” but if Paul heard me, he’d get mad. So anyway… it’s all quite sophisticated and very highly regarded.
There was a buzz going round during the intervals. Rumour had it Greenwood was hired not because of his talent, but as a way for the Orchestra to attract a new audience and to bring in a new generation of subscribers. What’s more, apparently a lot of members were unhappy with the decision to hire the Radiohead guitarist, claiming he has no real training as a classical musician and that he’s nothing more than a rock musician who, at best, tries to be alternative. But, there’s another group of people that defend him saying he’s been trained and that before he played the electric guitar he played the viola.
Whatever the case, I can tell you the poor guy looked scared to death during the concert, so tall and pale, with absolutely nowhere for him to hide.
I’d heard of him, but really didn’t know that much about him. I just remember his picture appearing years ago in gay chat rooms, but he’s supposed to be into women.
But, you never know, right? Anyway… let me go on with the news. A colleague of Paul’s who’s a journalist for the Guardian told us a few days ago that Greenwood, as a kind of a precautionary measure, said that he felt embarrassed about discussing his part in the symphony because he knows very little about the style. Though he is really into of some of the composers (Penderecki, apparently), he doesn’t know anything about the others. He is also impressed with the talent, enthusiasm and help the other musicians have offered him, as well as their open-mindedness about new techniques. They deal well with the changes regardless of how radical may they seem.
Another titbit we overheard after the show was that Greenwood was so unsure about what he wanted to do that he was still making changes to the score right up until the end of the last rehearsal.
Below I have copied the program that was scheduled for his debut as symphony composer:
Ascencion by Messian (4to MVT), Cantus in memory of Benjamin Britten, Herrmann Psycho; Clavicordio Concerto de Gogecki; Juan Adams; Carl Ruggles Portals; continuous series by LigetiI; Dances by Bartok; Compositions by Greenwood; with the collaboration of the Nazarteh Orchestra, vocalist Lubna Salame, and the premiere of a Radiohead song performed by Thom Yorke. Pete Giman on clavichord, all of whom are directed by Robert Ziegler.
When we arrived at the theatre, I was quite surprised by the type of people there. There was a rather unlikely mix of ageing punks, post-modern intellectuals, grunge rockers, classical music fans and all types of eccentric characters. The atmosphere in the lobby that evening had an impossibly hip feel about it. Seeing all those offbeat people reminded me of something I heard Christopher Bailey say once backstage during a Burberry fashion show. He was describing his collection and made the comment that for him being English was tantamount to being one-of-a-kind/totally original; it meant being traditional but with hip sensitivity. It meant being able to express oneself with flair and know how to appreciate it, whatever the consequences.
The concert started and after every composition some of the audience gently applauded and another part almost jumped. The public annoyed with the fans and the fans looking fiercely to the habitués. A delirium, but an ordered one.
The concert was gaining quality. There were even some really unique moments. And when Greenwood played his strange compositions with the symphony, the sound seemed to illuminate all of us. Paul was fascinated. I, on the other hand, lost my concentration at times and went off on tangents. On one of those tangents, a strong memory burst into my mind and I didn’t hear anything else.
Years ago, in 1999 to be exact, I got an unexpected call from my agent to cover a vacancy as an assistant in Mark Seliger’s art production team. I had to go the next day to Los Angeles for the interview that Chris Head was doing for Rolling Stone magazine with Brad Pitt. It was my chance!
At that time Brad Pitt was the sex symbol of the moment after winning the limelight those unforgettable 15 minutes where he had sex with the blond one in Thelma and Louise. Fight Club had just come out and he was beginning to be considered a serious actor. I had seen “The Fight Club” and I was totally in love with the naked and sweaty trunk of the club’s leader. The film was fabulous, the script was hallucinogenic, a cult to the new virility, and the critic, as well as the public, get exited as the fight goes on.
I took a plane and the following morning a member of the Rolling Stone team was waiting for me in Los Angeles airport, and from there it was direct to Hollywood, to Pitt’s mansion. At the beginning I didn’t understand anything. English was still an obstacle for me. I was really anxious to participate in a Rolling Stones` production. My colleague advised me to calm down and to do exactly what he told me to. My work was to help in Seliger’s photographic production, more precisely in the wardrobe that Pitt was going to wear. Nothing much, but it was the beginning of something bigger.
The mansion was as one would have imagined, maybe a little more sober, almost minimalist for Hollywood but, of course, high tech. I wasn’t the only one nervous; the whole team seemed a bit jumpy. It was supposed to be the interview of the year, Pitt’s consecration and a massive boost for the magazine’s sales to make the competition go green with envy.
When Pitt finally got to the garden, where the interview would take place, I couldn’t believe it; he was hotter than he was in the movies. He was dressed like in “The Fight Club”, with tight pants, white shirt and a red leather bomber jacket on top. It was obvious that the character had got to him. He drank coffee, smoked, was very considerate with everyone and seemed willing to begin the interview. Chris Head himself asked him the questions while we took pictures by the thousand. The guy looked perfect from every angle, whatever the lighting; he was a modern version of James Dean.
Everything was going well, I was already cool and I was told to go with the rest of the team to a room where we were going to make an special production with Armani’s clothes. While we were organizing the outfits, Pitt got in with the photographers and without saying a word he started to take his clothes off. I didn’t know what the rest of the team was thinking but I couldn’t believe my eyes. Brad Pitt naked in front of me! Better not to remember it because I could get in trouble. He seemed to enjoy the situation, confident about himself as if he were a nudist club habitué.
Just then, someone told me to give him a white shirt. I get closer to him; he turned back and asked me to help him to put on the shirt. Imagine, I had in front of me his fabulous back and he also smelled really good. Then the worst happened. My hands started to shake in a way that I couldn’t keep the shirt still for him to put the arms on it.
I don’t know how it ended; I just remember that I gave him the shirt and hid inside the team crowd as fast as possible. Later, already on my nerves, I started listening to the interview. Head’s assistants were worried. The interview wasn’t going very well; there was no way that Pitt enlarged his answers about the movie. “The Fight Club” was not going to be the main point of the interview. To every question, Pitt made a large digression and the point got missed. Why? What was Brad Pitt talking about all the time? You won’t believe me, but no matter what the question was about, he always ended up talking about Radiohead. He seemed to be obsessed with the band and told that during the filming of “The Fight Club” he spent all his time listening to Radiohead, particularly Ok Computer, which is his favorite album. He argued that his movie wasn’t art, that contemporary art was about Thom Yorke because, according to him, the Radiohead´s singer was so important for his generation as Kafka and Beckett. Who would have said? Brad Pitt a fan of Radiohead. He insisted once and again about his huge admiration and there was no way to make him talk about his character. He was completely captured by his devotion for Thom Yorke.
The vigorous applause brought me back to the concert. Paul was incessant in his praise of Greenwood’s composition and asked me what I thought. I had tried to think of something to say when there was a sudden transformation in the energy level inside the hall. An absolute silence engulfed the theatre and everybody’s eyes were riveted upon this tiny figure that had come out onto the stage under the lights.
The tension in the air was thick, almost tangible. Yorke waited… and waited… and waited. Lost deep in thought, he clung to the microphone. He took out a sheet of paper, put it on the music stand, and gestured almost imperceptibly to the conductor for the orchestra to start into Arpeggi─Radiohead’s new song.
Thunderous applause erupted in isolated patches across the theatre. While Greenwood’s fans screamed madly, the classical music enthusiasts applauded with certain apprehension. Wearing a short vest, his hair standing straight up on end, and with a very discomforting look of annoyance: it was Thom Yorke and he had the look of an electrocuted Goblin.
On that bizarre instrument that heralded the coming age of electronic music, Greenwood led the way with his Martenot, with its elegiac drone that resembled a whirring piano.
We were captivated at once by Yorke, whose voice trembled like that of a singing mermaid.
By the time the song was over, a dark ambience had filled the auditorium. The hypnotized crowd was slow to react. I was floored. Having heard Thom Yorke sing and perceiving the aura generated by his voice, I finally understood how right Lady Newell was when she said that Radiohead makes the total absence of individuality abundantly evident.
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Disc 1Mushaboom - FeistDaft Punk is Playing at My House - LCDFools - The DodosRadio Cure - Wilco2080 - YeasayerIn The Aeroplane Over the Sea - Neutral Milk HotelChicago - Sufjan StevensBodysnatchers - RadioheadCherry Chapstick - Yo La TengoGuest Room - The NationalBuilding Steam With a Grain Of - DJ ShadowThe Hole in Your Roof - Augie MarchAll My Friends - LCDOn A Neck, On A Spit - Grizzly BearGood Friend - Plants and AnimalsDisc 2Bangers & Mash - RadioheadSing! Captain - Handsome FursBe Good To Them Always - The BooksConquest - Tapes 'n TapesI Turn My Camera On - SpoonRockist Part 2 - School of LanguageNapolean Says - PhoenixSecret Meeting - The NationalAir Aid - MenomenaDon And Sherri - Matthew DearWhat Goes Around/Comes Around - Justin TimberlakePink Moon - Nick DrakeIn the Morning - Junior BoysIn Context - Field MusicAntichrist Television Blues - Arcade Fire
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