Car l'étoile du berger, Said the Gramophone, a posté ses cent premiers chansons de 2010. Je les digère depuis cinq jours mais je dégotte toujours des pierreries (en fait, je n'avais jamais entendu les trois en tête...). J'avais fait l'acquisition des cinq chansons suivants pendant le cours de 2010 grâce aux mecs STG. Quelques ne figurent pas dans sa liste mais je les choisis parce qu'elles demontrent UNE veine/sonne que j'aime de Said The Gramophone: l'éther. Des chansons qui sont aériennes et floue mais sont, aux même temps, inflammables et enivrant...
A morbid, now regrettable, flight of fancy lead me to Google the word eunuch earlier. Reading soon snowballed into listening to 'Ave Maria' as sung by Allesandro Moreschi, 'the last castrato'. An internal organ shrivelled.
On screen, Dick Van Dyke has been rescued from untimely death by flying cars and magical nannies. Off screen, the veteran star of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and Mary Poppins had to rely on the help of a pod of porpoises after apparently dozing off aboard his surfboard. "I'm not kidding," he said afterwards.
Van Dyke's ordeal began during an ill-fated trip to his local beach. "I woke up out of sight of land," the 84-year-old actor told Craig Ferguson on his TV chat show. "I started paddling with the swells and I started seeing fins swimming around me and I thought 'I'm dead!'"
Van Dyke was wrong. "They turned out to be porpoises," he said. "And they pushed me all the way to shore." The porpoises were unavailable for comment.
We looked at James Dean's head. It was on a plinth. His statue didn't have eyes, but he had his back to the view anyway. I pretended I could see as far as the sea but really, I just saw The Angels as a profusion of lights. A low-lying galaxy. Later, we looked through the Zeiss telescope - an action requiring step ladders. Supposedly, they had pointed it at Saturn but all we saw was a white dot on a dark blue square inch. It could easily have been drawn on, we said, and wondered if Saturn existed. You slept through the show in the planetarium, missing the lady proclaim that we are all made of stardust. Bullshit! we said afterwards: We're 90% water. And, what with e equalling mc² and all that, the other 10% must be little balls of energy, or light. Or something. So we drove down Sunset into the sunset and queued for a hot dog. Celine Dion had been to the same restaurant, her photograph was on the wall. I tried a root beer and felt bilious at it's soapiness. Back in your car, the fans blew out cool leathery air. At some point that evening we careered into a tunnel. It looked like a nostril in the hillside. We were listening to Fleetwood Mac and I've not forgotten that evening. Not yet anyway.
"My friends have often told me that I should model", Anna Szabo told a press conference in Budapest, "and they have frequently suggested that I should go for beauty pageants. So I applied for several contests, but I was always rejected at the entry stage, because the organisers invariably ruled out anyone with a criminal record. That's why I was so attracted to the Miss Mafia beauty contest. Because here, for once, my considerable criminal convictions can be used to my advantage."
Explaining the rules of the Miss Mafia contest, one of the competition organisers added that "contestants can only enter the competition after submitting a police mug shot to us, to prove they have a valid criminal background. As well as the usual statistics of hip size, bust size, weight, personality and poise, our judges are looking for other statistics, such as criminal charges, underworld associates, gang membership, and time spent behind bars. After a preliminary competition to weed out unsuitable contestants, the final contest will be held in the 8th district, in a bar that was once bombed out in a Mafia clan fight. We have thieves, fraudsters, gang members, bank robbers, and swindlers taking part as contestants and judges, so it should be an interesting night."
I wrote about Sublime Frequencies on Band of Gypsies a while ago and spent a surreal evening watching Omar Souleyman perform in an old WMC in the backstreets of Leeds in April. So, since I intend to be in India this time next year, I look forward to the release of the above film from the same label. I hope I see fire and tinsel and elephants and trumpets and goats.
This much I know: though their visual identity is based in self-imposed mystique, WU LYF are a collective based geographically in Manchester. Their artwork and promo collages rebellion, religion and revolution; their music combines thrash and gospel - the sound of spectres moving through a concrete jungle: sharp-fisted and spooky: hoods up in heaven.
Taken from a photographic survey of the Russian Empire between 1909 and 1912 by Sergei Mikhailovich Prokudin-Gorskii (1863-1944) using a specialized camera to capture three black and white images in fairly quick succession. He used red, green and blue filters, allowing them to later be recombined and projected with filtered lanterns to show near true color images. View more here.