Melody

…At age 19 she was a fashion student at the Community College of Philadelphia. But, on a fateful day, while riding her bicycle, the driver of a Jeep made an illegal turn, hurdling into Gardot and leaving her in the street for dead. Hospitalized for months with multiple head injuries and pelvic fractures, her love for music was the best therapy she could receive.

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Daisies

Что ты как дура стоишь на перроне с букетом ромашек в руках

На таких каблуках,

На таких, таких каблуках

Выкинь ромашки

В мусорный бак

Он же самый обычный мудак

Inadequate translation

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Audio commentary

Чесслово, я не специально. Так сложилось в ЖЖ-ленте. Звуковой ряд вот к этому разговору.

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The right kind

I’m just so full of love,
And to the world I’m making this plea:
Where is the man I love?
Somewhere I know, he’s waiting for me,
Where can he be?

[lyrics by Louis Wolfe Gilbert]

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Trouble

Came across Artist’ Den concert on Public Television, a performer that stopped me in my tracks. My jaw dropped and I was chained to the screen for an hour. Gee, never thought Channel 13 can present someone decent – and here he is, Ladies and Gents, I learned his name from the final titles: Ray LaMontagne.

When he was singing this one, the camera showed the women in the audience…singing along in ecstasy, eyes rolled. Looks like over 3.8MM watched it on Youtube by now.

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O, фройляйн Грита (Oh, Fräulein Grete)

Listen… Look at the photos. Then read the comments. And then listen some more to clips from the right margin – with Siegfried Arno and others.

All I could find about Marek Weber Orchestra (the same one that plays “For You, Rio Rita in the previous post), came from this blog:

In the 1920s Marek Weber led one of the more popular bands in Germany.  The band played a variety of musical genres and styles.  Judging by the number of American releases of his recordings from this period, Weber must have had a following in the United States.  Weber was Jewish and, when the Nazis came to power in 1933, he fled to England.  In 1937 he came to America and found success on network radio where he was billed as “Radio’s Waltz King.”  For a while he was the bandleader on the Carnation Condensed Milk Program over the NBC Red network.

It seems to me before Great Jewish Broadway era of the 40’s largely same troupe  was entertaining Berliners of the 20’s and 30’s, Berliners of Maugham’ and Isherwood’ acquaintance. Although American cast came severely snipped, one might say.

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oh yeah,

they all can.

Mira:

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Scorched leaves

From an old letter, titled Pajarillo‏ and written in forgotten November

...if you know it, so you'll hear it in your mind. I wish
you could. I can't stop rewinding it back to track #5, and I
can't control my tears.

Right, Que mi corazón lastima, however ridiculous it
sounds

It's a freaking cheating weather for forsythia - and
muscari hyacinths around it. They think it's spring
again and spout new growth, right under yellow blossoms on
forsythia branches, its scorched leaves are falling off
... 

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Caucasian girls

I just learned that Katie Melua, a British star singer-songwriter, was born in Georgia. From Lady freaking Gaga (“freaking” is a correct classifier) to this astonishing artist  – it’s all Caucasus, people! The engine of civilizations…

PS

See also – this one is my favorite.

Ahahaha! “Write Xmas in Georgian!”

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Tchavolo Swing

I was listening to it played by Hot Club of SanFran and wanted to share, but couldn’t find the video online. I offer this very weak and unimaginative cover.  Forgive me…the one in my head is perfect, perfect. Just like today.

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ласковыймай

Забытое? Хорошо же…

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Madeleine Peyroux

I was looking for her rendition of Hey Sweet Man (which I listen to on Pandora, but some of you can’t) and found this.

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Poor little rich girl

You’re a bewitched girl,
Better take care.
Laughing at danger,
Virtue a stranger,
Better beware!
The life you lead sets all your nerves a-jangle,
You love affairs are in a hopeless tangle,
Though you’re a child, dear,
Your life’s a wild typhoon!

In lives of leisure,
The craze for pleasure
Steadily grows;
Cocktails and laughter,
But what comes after?
Nobody knows!
You’re weaving love into a mad jazz pattern,
Ruled by Pantaloon,
Poor little rich girl,
Don’t drop a stitch too soon!

You’re only a baby,
You’re lonely, and maybe
Someday soon you’ll know
The tears you are tasting
Are years you are wasting,
Life’s a bitter foe!
With fate it’s no use competing,
Youth is so terribly fleeting;
By dancing much faster
You’re chancing disaster,
Time alone will show.

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For a breath of air after the previous post

[with a wave to my online friends]

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Getting out of the day

Never mind the visuals. It’s obviously about NY!

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Four seasons: Spring. Allegro.

Первый раз за 3 месяца полегчало на душе. Пусть ненадолго. Деревья спохватились и цветут как под угрозой сокращения. На 59й улице, где всегда в это время приходится долго ждать пересадки, поношенный дядечка играл Вивальди – и хоть и врал немилосердно, вдруг на облезлой крысиной платформе, меж сутулым официантом во фраке и  прыщавой китаянкой в дизайнерских шмотках под бомжиху возникло утро на нашей львовской кухне,  24 года тому. Спидола на огромном овальном столе, зайчики на сумрачной стене, польское радио, из открытых окон – трамвайное дребезжание.

Hartford, CT

Jacopo, he said, but everyone calls me Jake.  And how do you enjoy free time? You don’t? What do you say – workaholic? Naaaah. I bet you like breakfast. And dancing – tango? You look like tango type. Where do you go out – theatres? Ah, flamenco – see, I’m right – you’ have an accent, I can’t quite place – a German Argentinian, no? You know what I will cook for you for breakfast? French toast. All right, no maple syrop; how ’bout sour cherry …erm… confiture? yes, jam. Deal….

Update.

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Literal Video

Being hip-clueless, naturally, I haven’t heard of them – up until now. I was enlightened by Neo;  hilarious! Look at my favorite below. Note the reference to Classic of the Genre (the first in Neo’s post).

Thanks to economy

We had to get rid of our office building!

Update: check out the one offered by AVI, in the comments to Neo’s post.

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Obama in Copenhagen

This news were just broken by David Hurvitz:

10. Adams: Obama in Copenhagen (Nonesuch).
John Adams’ new opera, premiering in San Francisco in April, returns to his “Nixon in China” roots, while further ratifying his relentless determination to make art out of current events as speedily as possible. In this latest effort, President Obama and other world leaders gather tumultuously in Copenhagen to save the planet from the effects of global warming, Congress struggles to pass the contentious health care reform bill, and Michelle Obama frets about her upcoming appearance on the Food Network’s Iron Chef Ultimate Battle. Musical highlights include Obama’s lyrical “Greenhouse Gas” aria, a vigorous patter-chorus of disgruntled Republicans, and a contentious duet between Harry Reid and Nancy Pelosi, “Wither the Public Option?” Two countertenor “Joes,” Biden and Lieberman, provide comic relief.

[h/t to “*bukin, who at first believed it…well, who wouldn’t? what’s with the Nobel and adoration of the masses…]

Personally, I loved #2 .

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No, I want you to listen to this, too

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What’s on your Pandora now?

Caught myself humming along with Compay Segundo his Macusa (…Nadie, Nadie,  Nadie te querrá…), knowing nada in Spanish.

My beloved below-equator classics.

Reading from my Pandora window: Madalena Viva Tribe, Marisa Monte O Bonde de Dorn, Susana Baca La Macorina, Daniel Santos Lagrimas Negras, Maria Bethania Explode Coracao and of course my love, my divine Alcione…

While I was writing this, the station changed to Manha de Carnaval.

Ooooouuuuughh I feel it in my spine

PS. It it Misia now, Paixoes Diagonais

no, really, who needs foreplay when she’s singing

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Tomorrow! I’ll wear it tomorrow, promise!

My dear friend whom I never met in person, spectacular Avrora, suggested I’ll listen to this to cleanse my palate off Russian pop-rock of the 80’s. And how right was she ! (or is it “right she were”? адин хрен) Judge for yourself!

Actually, I did wore purple when I was 20. As I told you. Indirectly. And it indeed had the advertized effect. Ах, подайте нам карету…вот эту…

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Fleeting joys

Summery weather today (the word “balmy” comes to mind) – 88F, light whiffs of clouds travel above the roof of a beautiful Art Deco Lutheran (or is it Evangelical? always forget to look at the sign) church across my windows. I can hear delightful, properly divided into voices, singing from inside – even though the tall vitrage windows are closed.

I love my late Sunday mornings –  perfect second cup of espresso, now enjoyed for itself, not as a tool to pick-me-up. A free concert of inspired music flowing into my open windows. Sun. Playful breeze. Far-away in the Narrows – sounding of ship sirens,  reminder of a wider world.

From which [through my morning reading rounds] came this excellent post quoting an eloquently expressed argument in anti-religious debate.  Thank you, Brian! I can only repeat after you:

I entirely agree with all this, but I do not stick it up here to insist that all of you do. I know that all of you do not, which is fine by me. Especially if, from what you do believe instead, you draw political conclusions with which I strongly do agree.

I’ll add :  until you draw political conclusions with which I agree.

Thanks to this post and the thread I’m going to enter two very good additions to my blogroll – the quoted NickM from the Counting Cats (oh, pardon me, Feline Enumerators) and a delightedly reasoned, independent-minded  commenter who, luckily, has his own stash of writing for me to indulge in:  Joshua .

Alisa, I enjoyed your comments, too –  but why don’t you write in your blog anymore? I keep it on a roll, anyway, in the hopes you will – if not now then later.

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Speaking of anarchism,

in its romantic Italian interpretation:

Found at  LJ-user *tatjaana, to whom – my deep gratitude; her caption reads:

1967 , lyrics by  Belgrado Pedrini , music: canzone popolare “Se tu ti fai monaca”.

One of her commenters provided  Italian text, and then translated it into Russian. Sorry, no English. But O libertà o morte! is pretty clear, isn’t it?

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Wrong holiday,

but I can’t wait till Mother’s Day to post this: you gotta hear it!

[via LJ-user Sivilka]

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“Hillaria plots her comeback”

I simply had to steal this.

From the left enter former President Guglielmo Priapo and his termagant wife, Hillaria. Hillaria is furious over her defeat at the hands of L’Obama in the primaries. In a passionate outburst ranging up to a shrill, wobbly high C, she rages that the Prize was within her grasp (“È mio! È tutto mio!”), but she was betrayed by La Media Elite who abandoned her for un altro amore. Must she live to see this upstart novice on the throne while she languishes in boring Senate committee meetings? Is it for this that she has suffered public humiliation and eaten shit sandwiches served by her husband for the past 35 years? No, it is too much! (È troppo! non reggo! soffoco!”) Gugliemo counsels patience: her day will come, and L’Obama will overreach himself.

I’m going to spoil it all for you and quote the very climax (can’t help it, it’s THAT perfect!)

While all attention is focused on Sara, Hillaria dashes up to the dais and plunges the dagger into Obama’s back (“Quest’è il bacio di Hillaria”). When attention returns to the front, everyone sees Hillaria standing where L’Obama was, rejoicing in her new-found power (“Salgo giä nel Presidencia aurata!”) As everyone proclaims the new queen (“Regina tu sei!”), Sara Palino remarks on how her and Hillaria’s plan worked after all, and announces that her agreed-upon reward is that in the new administration, she will be Secretary of State so that she can get some foreign policy experience for her Presidential run in 2012. The crowd reacts (“Orror! Orror! Orror!”).

Cada il sipario rapidamente.

Read the rest of synopsis (by someone called Jamie Calvert),  linked here: Nixon in China is Geico-green with envy.

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Je ne veux pas travailler

translation :”working fuckin sucks man!”

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Summer appetizer

A concert poster on the adjacent building:

!SMASHING PUMPKINS!
!RED HOT CHILLY PEPPERS!
!MARYLAND CRAB CAKES!

What an indigestible combination, really, just like the meal I ate for lunch in the newly open BBQ place: sweet potato puree in whiskey sauce and a ring of BBQed smoked sausage. If that’s what they call an authentic Texas experience, I’ll better stay here.

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When opera was the pop-culture of Vienna*

As you know, in April I went on a short vacation in pre-Catskills. It was a much-needed break, even the lack of proper hiking weather during most of my stay was not objectionable: over its 140 years Mohonk House collected a library any country-house should be proud of. Seated comfortably in a deep chair, warmth from a fireplace on my cheeks, it was such a pleasure to leasurely turn pages of random volumes, some from the 30’s, some older, and every once in a while look up at the peaceful lake framed by the Arts&Crafts oak window frame.

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