dilluns, 30 de març de 2009

És la cançó que us he abaixat aquesta tarda... /al blog de les ulleres... clica al titol per entrar

24 hores per descarregar el nou Bob Dylan

La primera cançó del nou àlbum de Bob Dylan, 'Together through life', es penjarà a la pàgina web de l'artista per a descàrrega lliure i gratuïta des de la mitjanit del 30 de març a la mitjanit del 31 de març del 2009

EUROPA PRESS

Los Angeles
Ult. Act. 30.03.2009 - 17:01 hs

Demostrant que els veterans de la música saben com funcionen els nous temps i seguint l'estela de diversos artistes que regalen continguts a la seva pàgina web, Bob Dylan ofereix a partir de la mitjanit d'avui la possibilitat de descarregar-se de manera gratuïta el nou single del seu pròxim disc, Together through life, que es publicarà el 28 d'abril.

'Together through life' és l'àlbum número 46 de Bob Dylan i segueix 'Modern times', que va publicar el 2006 i que va debutar en el primer lloc de la llista de la prestigiosa revista nord-americana 'Billboard'

La primera cançó del nou àlbum de Bob Dylan, Together through life, es penjarà a la pàgina web de l'artista (www.bobdylan.com) per a descàrrega lliure i gratuïta des de la mitjanit del 30 de març a la mitjanit del 31 de març del 2009. La cançó és Beyond here lies nothin i és la primera estrena del disc Together through life.

Produït per Jack Frost, el disc es va gravar l'any passat impulsat per la composició d'una nova cançó, Life is hard, destinada a la pel·lículaLa vie en rose, del director francès Oliver Dahan.

Together through life és l'àlbum número 46 de Bob Dylan i segueixModern times, que va publicar el 2006 i que va debutar en el primer lloc de la llista de la prestigiosa revista nord-americana Billboard. L'àlbum va aconseguir un disc de platí als Estats Units i es va situar entre els cinc primers llocs de les llistes de vendes en 22 països més.

Els tres últims discos d'estudi de Bob Dylan han estat considerats entre el millor de la seva carrera, avalats pel públic, la crítica i les vendes. El 1997, Time out of mind va aconseguir un disc de platí i tres Grammy, entre els quals hi ha el de millor àlbum de l'any. El 2001, Love and theft va repetir platí, va ser nominat a tres Grammy i va guanyar el de millor àlbum de folk contemporani.

Esplendor creatiu
Modern times va vendre 2,5 milions d'exemplars i va aconseguir dos Grammy més: millor àlbum de folk contemporani i millor actuació vocal rock. Aquests tres discos esquitxen una dècada d'esplendor creatiu, temps en què Bob Dylan va guanyar un Oscar i un Golden Globe amb la cançó Things have changed, de la pel·lícula Wonder boys.

El cantautor també ha aconseguit un gran èxit amb Chronicles, el seu llibre de memòries; ha rebut el tribut de Martin Scorsese a través de la pel·lícula documental No direction home del 2004 i ha continuat amb la saga de Bootleg series, culminada l'últim any amb el seu vuitè volum, Tell tale signs.

A més, el 2008, Bob Dylan va guanyar un premi Pulitzer especial pel seu "profund impacte en la música popular i en la cultura americana, a través de composicions d'un extraordinari poder poètic".

Un any abans havia estat distingit amb el premi Príncep d'Astúries de les arts per una obra que "conjuga la cançó i la poesia, que crea escola i determina l'educació sentimental de molts milions de persones".

L'opinió del lector

7 opinions

Normes d'us

Oh!! Una canço gratis !! Moltíssimes gràcies senyor Dylan!!! És vosté TAN generós. L'estimo. I per aix`ara mateix em baixaré el seu àlbum pel torrent i el borraré sense escoltar-lo. Per respecte, sabeu?

Tudun 30.03.2009, 21:54

Una mica més de respecte amb Dylan és el que els hi falta a alguns que, desgraciadament, hem de veure com escriuen aquí. I és estrany que sàpiguen escriure, eh? "Las margaritas no se hicieron para los cerdos".

Bob és Robert, tu! 30.03.2009, 18:23

som iu serem pirates podria ser el nou lema de IU per les properes eleccions. així en plan molt anticapitalista xD

pirata2 30.03.2009, 16:39

    BOB DYLAN, CANTAUTOR INCOMBUSTIBLEFOTO: SONY

    diumenge, 29 de març de 2009

    Decemberists


    Tot i que el nom prové d'un grup de revolucionaris del Octubre rus, son prou "lights" com per fer-se amics del actual rei negre del mon. (Per com van vestits la fota es d'abans de les eleccions).
    Sentits em recorden a un mix entre Ia % Clua i el James Taylor/Jackson Browne (cal dir que amb uns arranjaments de High grade).
    En definitiva (tot i que no ho sembli) m'estan agradant...

    Condo Fucks (els Yo la Tengo en plan banda de bar)

    Clicant al titol podeu entrar a les grabacions de la WFMU

    Condo Fucks’ “Fuckbook” is out March 24th. Buy it here.


    dissabte, 28 de març de 2009

    Classe social, lletres, i música


    Readers recommend: Songs about fame

    Your whitest, emptiest smile possible please. This week it's all about the effects of celebrity

    Fame- Street Dance Scene

    Lighting up the sky like a flame ... These kids will leap over cars to be famous. Photograph: Allstar/Cinetext/MGM

    There's a lot of strife in the world of songs about social class, but most of it's in the past. Class as an issue has almost come full circle now; it's not something that's talked about, or even discussed much. What does the working class do when there's no work? What does the middle class do when all their assets have melted into an ocean of debt? Who's left to care other than the idle rich and the idle poor, both watching, detached, from the sidelines.

    There was a brilliant response this week. We had arguing, even the hint here and there of a possible tantrum. The issues around class can do this – quite understandably – so it seemed best to sort out some rules. Writing a song about being poor doesn't count, although writing a song about being rich probably would. Looking around you, open-mouthed, at all the inequality definitely does.

    Pulp's Common People was only held off the A-list due to excessive over-playing, but, despite that, it still explodes with fury at the glaring, humiliating injustices that come between the two lovers. If only someone had told McCarthy, whose wonderful We Are All Bourgeois Now declares, "Once there was class war, but not any longer".

    It was, of course, the Temptations who saw through the middle-class temptation of reckless consumption. "It only makes your life a mess," they sing, "bill collectors, tranquilisers and gettin' deeper in debt …" Noel Coward could teach us all about the traps wealth and privilege can set. In the ("frequently mortgaged to the hilt") Stately Homes of England he admits that even if the "Van Dycks have to go, and we pawn the Bechstein Grand, we'll stand, by the stately homes of England".

    The Auteurs stare at The Upper Classes and, over a melody that is Radiohead's Creep in all but name, offer the pearl, "There's nothing wrong with inherited wealth, if you melt the silver yourself". Poet Linton Kwesi Johnson looks at Di Black Petty Booshwah and notes with horror as this new class automatically, "side wid oppressah, w'en di goin' get ruff."

    The working-class woman at the centre of the Kinks' She's Bought a Hat Like Princess Marina wears her elaborate headwear just to do the cleaning, while her husband wants a Bentley "like Anthony Eden". There's a similarly resigned sadness to Shack's High Rise – Low Life, which says, "If you can build here, then make yourself a home".

    Finally, some drama. Cher's Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves deals with those that live outside conventional society, an underclass by any other name, while the Who's The Dirty Jobs looks at downtrodden pigmen, bus drivers and miners but sees change coming, "My life's fading, but things are changing, I'm not gonna sit and weep again".

    This week I'm after songs about the effects of fame. We know that celebrity is a mask that eats into the face, but what does it do to the soul? When you've desired something, worked for something for so long, then achieved it only to find it's entirely hollow and meaningless, what do you do? Then again, maybe fame is amazing. Maybe it's the only thing worth working for. Who's had something enlightening to say on the subject?

    Deadline is midday Monday; please note that posts should not contain more than a third of a song's lyrics. The A-Z and RR archive are having a caviar facial, while the Overspill blog has an urgent appointment with its agent. What's your name?

    dilluns, 23 de març de 2009

    PJ Harvey (ens fem grans) clicar titol

    ">NEW PJ HARVEY & JOHN PARISH VIDEO - "BLACK HEARTED LOVE"


    ">Black Hearted Love," with its slinky, powerful PJ vocals and roaring guitar work by John Parish. It's reminiscent of Sonic Youth ... and the '90s in general. The song's dark vibe inspired Ms. Harvey's wardrobe (black gown, black nail polish) in a new Chapman Bros-directed clip that finds her alone in the woods bouncing in one of those inflatable moonwalks for children. In the rain. In super slow motion. "When you call out my name in rapture/ I volunteer my soul for murder." Also no shoes on the moonwalk, kids.

    diumenge, 22 de març de 2009

    Zappa i Nesmith (dels Monkees) intercanviant personalitats

    Jà teniu les entrades? el lloc triat em sembla fantàstic pero m'hi falta l'accent...

    21/03/09

    MANOLO ESCOBAR, PROTAGONISTA DE LA PROGRAMACIÓ D'ABRIL DE L'AUDITORI DE CASTALLA

    L'artista Manolo Escobar, amb la posada en escena de l'espectacle De Manolo a Escobar els dies 18 i 19 d'abril, serà l'estrella de la programació de l'Auditori de Castalla d'abril.

    Uns dies abans, el diumenge 5, el protagonisme recaurà sobre el televisiu Paco León, que representarà l'obra de teatre ¿Estás aquí?, amb un ple garantit, ja que les entrades esgotades des de fa dies.

    De la resta d'esdeveniments previstos per al mes destaquen, sobretot, els concerts deLa Passió de Crist que l'Agrupació Santa Cecília farà a benefici de Mans Unides el dia 8, i el de Sant Francesc que del grup El Portell oferirà el diumenge 26 a benefici de Cáritas.

    Encara queda Hendrix inedit?


    A gentler side to Hendrix

    A long-forgotten tape of the rock star could reach £100,000 at auction next month

    By Paul Bignell

    Sunday, 22 March 2009

    The Jimi Hendrix Experience play at London's Marquee Club in 1967

    REX

    The Jimi Hendrix Experience play at London's Marquee Club in 1967

    At a quarter of an inch wide and 1,800 feet long, the reel of black polyester audio tape in its battered, coffee-stained, green box suggests nothing about the musical treasure it holds. But when played, it is unmistakably Jimi Hendrix – lo-fi, stripped back to a single guitar and unvarnished voice.

    Forgotten for decades, the recordings capture Hendrix at his most reflective. The tape, listened to by The Independent on Sunday yesterday, will be sold at auction next month. Expected to fetch between £50,000 and £100,000, the songs, 14 in total, date back to 1968 as Hendrix worked on his third album, Electric Ladyland.

    Rather than containing his trademark distorted guitar and a full backing band, most of the tracks feature Hendrix singing and playing guitar quietly by himself in an apartment. Several tracks include a second musician playing harmonica.

    "This tape shows his very sensitive, creative side," said Ted Owen, a memorabilia expert and CEO of the Fame Bureau (famebureau.com), the site that will auction the tape. "The wild man of rock is not there at all."

    The tape was given to Carl Niekirk by Hendrix himself. Mr Niekirk worked in a photography studio below the rock star's flat in Brook Street, central London. As there was only one entrance to the flat, Mr Niekirk would often let Hendrix and his friends – including George Harrison – into the flat. "It was a constant stream of people coming and going and partying," he said. At one point, Hendrix asked Mr Niekirk if he could borrow some milk and sugar. When he took it up to Hendrix's flat, the singer gave him the tape. Mr Niekirk said: "Because I asked him, he just gave it to me. As simple as that." The tape then passed to Mr Niekirk's sister, who ran a pub in Epping Forest, and there it languished in a box in a wardrobe.

    The tape is now owned by Mark Sutherland and Paul Jackson, who run the Cafe Music Studios in east London. They bought the tape for a nominal sum 10 years ago, and now, after years of legal wrangling with the Hendrix estate, the pair are finally able to sell it.

    divendres, 20 de març de 2009

    Byrne (no us perdeu el seu article a Wired)

    The Daily Telegraph


    David Byrne: stay hungry
    By Richard Grant, The Daily Telegraph, 16 March 2009 [Link]
    Photo by Danny Clinch

    DB - Danny ClinchThere is a muffled cry from within the hotel suite and then a startled, barefoot, shirtless David Byrne opens the door with his white hair standing on end. 'Oh,' he says. 'Wow. I was at this museum and wow, um, well, maybe if you don't mind, I guess we could talk while I pack.' The suite is a jumble of big armoured suitcases, piles of dry-cleaned clothes, camera and computer equipment, stacks of CDs, hats and shoes, a folding bicycle with a travel case.

    Byrne is five months into an 11-month world tour and the bicycle is a key component of his portable lifestyle, allowing him to escape the touring musician's trap of hotel-venue-bar-hotel and explore the parks, museums, art galleries and CD shops of whatever city he happens to be in. Today, it is Seattle and he has just cycled back from an exhibition of antique court miniatures from Rajasthan. 'Very cosmic stuff,' he says, pulling on a grey collared sweater and failing to notice that it is inside-out. 'Feet with silver rivers coming out of them and wrapping around the multitudes. Very nice and very hard to know what they all mean.'

    He is touring because he loves to tour and perform live, and a convenient excuse to get back on the road has presented itself. Byrne released an album last autumn called Everything That Happens Will Happen Today and it is his first collaboration with Brian Eno since 1981, when they opened up a new genre of music with My Life in the Bush of Ghosts. A sound collage of spiky funk rhythms, weird electronic noises and recorded snippets of American radio preachers, Arabic singers and chanters, an exorcist and other 'found vocals', as Byrne and Eno called them at the time, Bush of Ghosts helped usher in the era of sampling and loops.

    Except for a few blurts, clicks and hisses, the new album sounds nothing like its historic predecessor. Byrne sings his own lyrics this time, in a voice that sounds surprisingly tender and heartfelt compared with the neurotic, slightly strangulated style that made him famous with Talking Heads. And Eno, who produced three albums for Talking Heads (More Songs About Buildings and Food, Fear of Music and Remain in Light), pioneered electronic ambient music and has lately been producing mega­hits for Coldplay, has come up with a fairly conventional set of catchy pop arrangements.

    'We're calling it electronic folk gospel,' Byrne says, transferring immaculately pressed short-sleeved shirts from a broken suitcase to a new one. Underneath the shirts, he finds a pair of clear plastic sandals and holds them up. 'We were in Singapore so I've got all this hot weather stuff,' he says. 'Sandals, sun block… won't be needing these any more. Still, no sense throwing them away.' He tries to get back to the point he was making but it is not quite available to him now, so he stares out of the window, holding the sandals, waiting patiently for his thoughts to arrange themselves and the words to return, looking like a man who has gone through this process many thousands of times and grown comfortable with it.

    'But yeah,' he continues. 'After I got Brian's tracks, I kept them for a long time because I was probably a little afraid of how to begin, not because I didn't like the tracks, but because I thought, Oh, there's going to be expectations. People are going to think it will be Bush of Ghosts 2 or Remain in Light 2. Or they're going to expect the same sense of surprise that those records gave them at the time, and I didn't want to compete with that.'

    From the broken suitcase he pulls out a green apron with a cartoon of a fat, slavering chef on the front. 'I've got lots of souvenirs!' he exclaims. 'They were giving these aprons away free in Wellington if you spent more than $10 at this pharmacy and I thought, I need a cooking apron, and look at the label, this one is 100 per cent polyester!'

    He laughs heartily, exposing perfect white teeth. 'But yeah, eventually, having listened to a few of Brian's tracks, over and over again, I said, "Brian, this is the vibe I'm getting. The chords and the chord changes you're using are giving me a kind of gospel feel." And of course at the same time it was very electronic sounding. I said I would write words to go in that direction and that's pretty much how it happened.'

    There is still a peculiar, slightly absent quality about David Byrne, but he seems a lot more comfortable in his skin than he used to be in the Talking Heads days, at the height of his fame, when interviews would sometimes send him into a twitching, writhing, tongue-tied agony. He is 56 now and he has aged well. The passing years have been kind to his face and his body and given him a grace and dignity that he wears lightly and un­affectedly.

    He divorced his costume designer wife Adelle Lutz in 2004 – they have a 19-year-old daughter, Malu – and his current girlfriend is the artist Cindy Sherman, who, as Byrne puts it, 'takes photos of herself that you would never recognise as her'. She has been on tour with him, with her own folding bicycle, but she flew off to Berlin yesterday to open her latest exhibition there. 'We've been together a couple years now,' he says. 'That's pretty good, knock on wood.'

    He still has a tremendous, omnivorous appetite for the latest thing in music, art, books, film, culture, technology, and his own creative energy seems like a marvel from an outside perspective, although he sees it as something steady, plodding and reliable. 'I never get stuck or run out of ideas, but I don't always hit the peaks. But I also know that if I sat and waited for a great inspiration to come, I might be waiting for a long time. You have to be active, to get the ball when it comes, in the game, it's flying, it's not – somebody made a metaphor something like that.' He pauses and waits. 'So yeah, keep busy, just keep doing it and every once in a while I say, "OK, that might last. That's a keeper." '

    At present, he is collaborating with young, experimental groups such as Dirty Projectors and Arcade Fire. He has kept a finger on the pulse of the dance music scene and is now working with the New York band Brazilian Girls, the superstar DJ collective NASA, and producing a 22-song disco opera about Imelda Marcos with Norman Cook. 'Oh, Imelda loved disco,' he explains. 'She spent a lot of time going to the clubs in New York and she actually converted a floor of her house into a kind of nightclub with the mirror ball and everything, so it seemed like a good way to get into her story. The songs are all written but we've got 22 different singers so it's taking a while to finish.'

    Then there are his film soundtrack albums, his photography (14 books published so far), his writing, the record label he founded and a more or less constant stream of art projects. Most recently he transformed a disused building in Manhattan into a musical instrument, attaching hammers to the pipes and girders, fitting compressed-air hoses in the plumbing, and wiring it all into the keyboard of an old pump organ and inviting the public to 'play the building'; in August, to his great excitement, he will be doing the same thing to the Roundhouse in London. He has also found the time to design a series of conceptual bicycle racks for the New York City Department of Transportation, one in the shape of a dollar sign for Wall Street, another like a high-heeled shoe outside the Bergdorf Goodman department store, and so on.

    Ross Godfrey of the band Morcheeba, who worked as a co-producer on one of Byrne's solo albums, describes him as 'a renaissance man living in the future who is a bloody workaholic and makes everybody else look lazy and out of touch. He is a much-needed figure in the tumultuous times we live in. He lives his art and he has been a guiding light in the music industry for many people keen to move on from the now-dead model of business.'

    Byrne, whose words come out a lot more crisply on the page than in person, and is a lot more pragmatic and astute than one might expect, wrote a very influential article for Wired magazine last year about the various business strategies available to musicians in the era of free downloading. In general, he is optimistic about the future of music and musicians, although not the future of big record companies.

    'People are already finding ways to make their music and play it in front of people and have a life in music, I guess, and I think that's pretty much all you can ask,' he says. 'They might never get to the point where they're a serious threat to Coldplay, let's say, but in most cases that's not their ambition anyway. The difference now, with the production and distribution costs being so minimal, is that you can survive on the small scale, whereas before you needed to get up into the big leagues to survive.'

    He packs up his camera and folds his laptop shut. He puts on a pair of socks. He zips up one of his suitcases and then remembers to double-check the bathroom. He pads in there and, sure enough, finds two items in the shower. He finishes packing, checks his watch and then sits down facing me with both feet flat on the floor and his body in perfect symmetry, absolutely motionless except for the restless, evasive, lustrous brown eyes.

    David Byrne's artistic sensibility – the perpetually bemused outsider, quirky and faux-naive, 'making the ordinary dramatic and the dramatic ordinary', as he once said – has obviously been influenced and reinforced by his 30 years in the art and music scene of downtown Manhattan, where he still lives, but he traces its genesis back to his childhood. He was born in Dumbarton, Scotland (a point of pride, like his British passport), and came to America with his parents at the age of two. Growing up in the Baltimore suburbs, listening to his parents pointing out the strange and different ways in which Americans did things, and often having to translate his parents' thick Scottish accents so that other people could understand them, he not only felt like an outsider but found it impossible to take seriously the concept of 'normal life'.

    It comes as no surprise to learn that he grew into a loner who sought refuge in pop music and became obsessed with it. Social interaction was so difficult and frightening for him as a young man that he wonders if he had borderline Asperger's syndrome, a mild form of autism, and whether he cured it by performing music. He formed Talking Heads in 1975, having dropped out of art school in Rhode Island and reconnected with two of his art school friends in New York City.

    With Tina Weymouth on bass, Chris Frantz on drums and a scrawny, geeky, bug-eyed Byrne on guitar and vocals, wearing sensible shirts and narrow ties amid all the leather and chains, the band made its name at CBGBs, a now-defunct downtown Manhattan club that also produced the Ramones and Blondie. A fourth Talking Head, Jerry Harrison, later joined from the band Modern Lovers, and the label art-rock became affixed to the group. They had more of a dance groove than their new-wave contemporaries and Byrne was writing and singing clever, ironic, angst-ridden lyrics.

    'I really had a lot of trouble functioning socially at that time,' Byrne says. 'But I could blurt out my ideas and my feelings on stage, as well as just being up there saying, "Look at me, listen to me, I've got something to say. I'm somebody and I've got something and this is the only way I can talk to you. We can't really have a conversation, I'm afraid." ' He laughs at the memory and says it took many years but eventually the fear of social encounters just started to go away.

    'I'd like to credit therapy or some of that sort of stuff, which I did for a little bit, but it was probably time more than anything else. And luckily for me, being a performer and a creative person whose work was kind of accepted, it meant that people would come up to me – girls and other people – because they were interested in what I was doing. It was still terrifying but that part of breaking the ice was in some cases taken care of. Phew, yeah. Although after a while you realise that you don't only want to talk to people who are fans, that it might not necessarily be a good idea.'

    Talking Heads had a long, fine run, leaving behind eight studio albums, two live albums and Jonathan Demme's concert film Stop Making Sense, which immortalised Byrne as a palsied white man dancing as if trapped in a preposterously big suit. He wore it, he says, with a typically disingenuous piece of logic, because he wanted his head to look small. In 1991, at Byrne's insistence, Talking Heads split up amid bitter acrimony. Tina Weymouth in particular had some very harsh things to say about him and she said them loudly and publicly, that he was 'controlling', 'incapable of returning friendship', 'a vampire' and even 'a murderer'. He looks back at it now as a bad divorce that happened nearly 20 years ago.

    He has now made eight solo albums and toured behind them all, but only recently has he become enthused about playing Talking Heads songs again. 'Enough time has passed now,' he says. 'And on this tour it's the Eno connection. I realised we weren't going to be able to just play the new stuff, so we tie in some old stuff from Bush of Ghosts and from the three Talking Heads records that Eno produced. It always puzzles me because you wouldn't go to see a playwright's work and expect to hear the best bits from all his plays. But when you go to see a pop songwriter's work, that's what you expect. But it's fine. We've really been enjoying ourselves and that's why we're making it such a long tour. We just agreed to do a date in Istanbul.'

    With his suitcases packed and his sweater still inside-out, Byrne puts on a deerstalker hat, a hooded woollen coat and a pair of black-and-white golf shoes with the spikes removed. 'They're just comfortable shoes, sorta stylish I guess. If you like, you can walk over to the venue with me.'

    He has sold out the 2,500-seat symphony hall and on the way there Byrne talks excitedly about Brazil, where he took his first real holiday in a very long time and stayed with his friend the singer Caetano Veloso, and bought nearly 100 new CDs. Through Luaka Bop, the record label he founded in the late 1980s but no longer runs, Byrne has done more than anyone to introduce the rest of the world to the great Brazilian auteurs such as Veloso, Tom Ze and Os Mutantes. His latest enthusiasm is Japanese folk music as reinterpreted and absorbed by its rock and pop musicians, and he went on another enormous shopping spree for CDs in Tokyo, uploading his favourites to his website, davidbyrne.com, and then packing them all in a crate and shipping them home.

    Jim White, an alt-country singer on Luaka Bop who has toured extensively with Byrne, says, 'I've never met anyone who loves music as much as him. Every town we'd come to he'd get on his bike and ride to the record store, ask what was interesting that he couldn't hear anywhere else, buy dozens of obscure CDs, and listen to every one of them on the tour bus.'

    When we get to the Symphony Hall, a security guard directs us down through various stairways, lifts and corridors to the dressing-rooms, where many pairs of white shoes are lined up neatly; in Byrne's room there is a piano, three lemons and the biggest root of ginger I have ever seen. Colds and flu are a constant menace to touring musicians and Byrne swears by his homemade ginger and lemon tea as a preventative.

    The last time he toured he had a six-piece string section. This time he has three dancers, three backing singers, a drummer, keyboardist, a percussion prodigy and a wickedly funky bass player who used to play with Chaka Khan and Nile Rodgers. There is no support act and when they take the stage, all dressed in white, with Byrne front and centre at the microphone, the audience sets up an ecstatic roar of applause that goes on for a full five minutes.

    'Wow,' Byrne says as it finally starts to subside. 'I'm going home now. I got what I came for.' Then, and it is noticeable how much more fluent, confident and chatty he is in front of 2,500 strangers, he lays out what he calls 'the menu' for the evening's entertainment – a sampling of all the work that he and Brian Eno have done over the years. He counts off the introduction and the band kicks in to Strange Overtones, a self-deprecating pop-funk song about writing a song. 'This groove is out of fashion,' he sings. 'These beats are 20 years old.'

    Two hours later, after a joyful, radiant, applause-drenched performance, and a fourth and final encore for which Byrne and all the dancers and musicians wore frilly white tutus, the drinks are flowing backstage and everyone looks flushed and giddy. Byrne, with people all around him, camera flashes going off and a hand-rolled cigarette tucked behind his ear to smoke later, is laughing and grinning like a man on top of the world.

    He sits down with a fresh beer, and a radio DJ is asking him about the psychedelic African music he has collected and released on Luaka Bop, and someone else is asking about the documentary he made about the chicken-sacrificing Candomblé religion in Brazil, and then I ask him about a little thing I noticed in the sleevenotes to the new album, a reference to a book called What Is the What?, the fictionalised biography of a former child refugee from Sudan by Byrne's friend Dave Eggers.

    'Oh, I was thinking about that book all the time while I was making this record,' Byrne says. 'Valentino, the Sudanese guy, goes through all kinds of unrelenting horrors, but he's eternally hopeful and even cheerful, in a way that defies all logic, and I wanted to get some of that spirit of resilience in the music. In the end that's what humans – and animals too, I guess – are all about. They go on, despite everything.'

    Later, most of the dancers and musicians reconvene at a place with no name, no windows and a pink door. Behind the door is a man with a walkie-talkie and some stairs and a corridor and another door that opens into a nightclub set up to look like an old speakeasy. On stage are three men dressed in 1930s suits, singing 1930s songs in close harmony and accompanying themselves with ukulele, stand-up bass and drums. Byrne, back in his deerstalker and golf shoes, is standing at the bar with a pint of ale and a big smile on his face, moving his head and shoulders to the clickety-clack rhythm and singing along with the words. People are trying to get a word with him about this and that, and I try, too, but he just laughs and grins and says, 'These guys are great!' and then goes back inside the music.

    dijous, 19 de març de 2009

    david byrne

    Ja tinc entrades per el 24 del mes que vé.... David Byrne al Palau, la platea jà està plena...

    "Mixed opinions" respecte a la edició de talls inedits de Frank Zappa

    3.19.2009
    Frank Zappa
    The Lumpy/Money Project Object offers remixes and outtakes that the Zappa Family Trust (ZFT) have seen fit to overprice, then release to us dwindling hardcore fans in recent years. I love Frank, and have owned the originals for almost 40 years, but I no longer have the patience to compare the minor variations between a mono mix from 1968 with any of the 3 subsequent CD releases of We're Only In It For The Money. I especially don't like paying AGAIN for the shit version issued in 1986 (with re-recorded bass and drums, which Frank yanked off the market himself). Yet, that's what's in the new 3CD release, priced at nearly $60, w/tax & postage. And, as usual, ZFT refuses to even divulge what you're getting before you order. At least this time... I understand why. This should have been a $25, 2CD set, at most. Sell us "the good stuff," as Frank would say, at a reasonable price instead of over-charging everybody for the noisy few that demand it all - in turn, you'll broaden the fan base and please the faithful. To be fair (to Frank), there are some fascinating tidbits scattered about the set, and the stripped orchestral mix of Lumpy Gravy is great to finally hear. The set's sole saving grace, however, is the 25 minute "How Did That Get In Here?," recorded on February 13, 1967. An incredibly ambitious piece, fusing group improv with some of Zappa's (now) signature melodies, which Frank would later pillage to lace together Lumpy Gravy. For more evidence of Frank's already documented brilliance, listen below. For more evidence of ZFT's ongoing disrespect for Frank's dedicated fans, buy the box.

    How Did That Get In Here? (25:01)

    Posted by Willard at 1:25 AM 8 comments
    Labels: Frank Zappa

    Cliqueu al titol del missatge i podreu sentir els 25 minuts del tall.

    Never mind la crissi (Uncut)

    dimecres, 18 de març de 2009

    Paraula de John Mc Enroe (almenys així firma...) de Drowned on Sound

    New bands that are better than the original bands they were influenced by.

    I don't think people can really think clearly when it comes to the nostalgia associated with some of the classic bands of the past. Sure they made great records, but a lot of todays new bands have vastly improved on what came before them. Sure, they may not have the same mystique yet, but I have no doubt that they will be thought of as the superior band in 10-20 years time. Here are some of my thoughts, feel free to add your own.

    White Lies > Joy Division
    Interpol > Joy Division
    White Lies > Interpol
    The Strokes > The Velvet Underground
    The Killers > U2
    M83 > MBV
    MSTRKRFT > Daft Punk
    Editors > The Cure
    Arctic Monkeys > The Smiths
    Arcade Fire > Talking Heads

    John_McEnroe | 17 Mar '09, 16:26 | Send note | Report this | Reply

    dimarts, 17 de març de 2009

    Concerts > Discs

    UK live music more profitable than record sales

    Live performances are now worth more than recorded music for the first time in British music industry history, according to the Performing Rights Society

    A ticket tout outside a London gig A ticket tout holds outside a London gig.

    UK live music revenue is now greather than record sales ... the nation's touts rejoice. Photograph: Christian Sinibaldi/Guardian

    The UK live music industry collects more revenue than recorded music, according to the chief economist of the Performing Rights Society.

    "We've been doing some maths back at the office," Will Page told BBC 6 Music. "The changing of the guard has already taken place for the first time in the history of the British music industry."

    While the UK's booking agents will bring out the champagne, label executives must be weeping into their drinks. And music pirates, well, they've got the challenge of transforming the multi-sensory gig experience (including all those expensive drinks) into something downloadable.

    "We have all the data on live music at the PRS because we license all live performances around the country, so we're able to put a number on how much live music is worth," Page explained. "By scaling up, factoring in VAT, adding the booking fee, we came to a number of £904m [for live music]. So then it came to looking at how much the recorded music industry is worth ... and in 2008 it came in at £896m."

    Page was one of two economists who argued last year that the "long tail" theory was untrue, showing data that 80% of songs on the internet hadn't sold a single copy. That claim was later disputed by eMusic. Page also worked with Radiohead in 2007, helping to orchestrate their "pay-what-you-like" promotion for In Rainbows.