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I have also discovered Zachari Logan. On his MySpace, Kate Bush with Army Dreamers almost made cry. I have no idea what she is singing about, it’s her melody that makes me feel, well, like when I was listening to her complete collection, on CD, borrowed from Man. Which reminds me I have been tagged.
So, here! forever-young.pdf
My every muscle group hurts so much, I have decided I deserve to treat myself.
Meanwhile, back at the farm , you can have a look at the highlights from my playlist.
Sam Roberts, Brother Down
Gare Du Nord, Pablo’s Blues
Holmes Ives, Lacrimas Negras
Lemon Jelly, Kneel before Your God
Kelley Polar, Entropy Reigns
Yelle, Amour du Sol
Chromeo, Momma’s Boy
As a result of my newly embraced eco-friendly approach to life in the city meets psychosis of daily urban traffic, I am riding the underground. Which gets surreal when I have a perfect audition of Pink Martini performing Sympathique, while observing my fellow commuters.
It somehow reminds me of the words of an actor friend who noticed me in similar weather conditions: “You are so not from here!”
I don’t feel like writing much. Not after I have touched Stipe (no, he didn’t touch me back!). Great day yesterday, with Roisin Murphy and the Swedish Royal Ballet. Pretty amazing dance selection at this festival. So what can top eight well built perfect smooth-movers? Nine, of course. If you didn’t get it, I am talking about the Belgian and Swedish dancers.
I was just getting the hang of this, and here we are at the end of it. Maybe I get to tell you how this last day unfolds. Cheers!
Lay, linger, and lie down. This is what I have been doing for most part yesterday. In various positions, in various locations.
The day started to pick up on the tempo once I went to the Tarot Labyrinth. Long line, worth the while. The only concert we have planned for was Jambalaya. But for lack of anything better to do, we had to listen to Olveti BB. It would not end. Plus the guy did not have a voice. It was painful like an orgasm that does not come. The kind of band who enjoys playing, but should do it at home, for friends. Jambalaya, instead, was everything and more. They are Hungarian, but I suspect they were from New Orleans in previous life. Very very good. Then it was Mory Kante, with his Yeke Yeke anniversary tour, and the Roma tent with French Roma craziness, the good kind. Unfortunately we could not attend to the very end to either, because we had other plans. And these eight wonders of the world are from Belgium: Compagnie Thor d’Orient. A dance I am glad I have not missed. Manly, erotic, and homosexual. Beautifully choreographed, extraordinary lit, well staged, it was a joy to the senses. When it was over I felt I can go to bed without regrets. I have seen a true performance.
Again my minutes are up, I have not checked my messages, and, you guessed it, I am at a Hungarian keyboard. See you tomorrow. Roisin Murphy, Serj Tankian, Enzo Avitabile and Bottari, and REM are waiting.
It’s “so far, so good”, instead of “sooo good, so far”. There are a lot of reasons for that. Like the fact the one of the guard monkeys grabbed my arm. I say learn English, learn some manners, then get paid to be a bodyguard. Anyways, nothing serious. Some of the festival staff is really good and effective. Like the guy who apologized for the guard.
So that would explain why I have started drinking beer as early as ten something in the morning. Or wouldn’t it?
Can I complain about the dust. About the little motorinoes? They are everywhere, inserting themselves in every little space available. I am talking both about the dust and the little motor bikes. Since there is nothing much I can do about the dust, I thought of just pushing the riders as they pass me by. Criminal instinct, huh?
So yesterday was the first busy day. Kaiser Chiefs made my day. “That’s a nice one, BUCHAREST”. The Romanian crowd was ecstatic. The Hungarians were like “What was that? Neah”. So that was the highlight of a day that included, dozing in the ambient tent, excellent music and sound, a indie-underground American movie and a discussion with it’s director in the Magic Mirror, The graffiti artist - don’t bother unless you don’t have anything else better, the quite electric Fanfara Tirana, and the funny Finish unpronounceable Alamaailman Vasarat, a bit hard to digest in terms of music, but very humorous intros to their pieces, Kaiser Chiefs as you know them, Jamiroquai impaired by their own live sound, so we moved next door to Bob Marley’s son. You remember the cute little Ky-Mani? He is all grown up now.
The cherry on the pie was Szivkov Aleksszandr 6 minute dance. Great, entertaining, well-done, perfect moves and his body is a bonus. On the same occasion we watched another performance, that made us want to leave the room and move forward. Some tunisian guy, speaking French, of course, using a wheel chair. The dancing was good, but the piece was all together too long and “artistic”. We ended the night in a jazz note. Rhoda Scott is an American artist that plays an instrument that’s a cross between a piano and an organ and she does it with all her soul. Plus she had help from this incredible drum player. Makes me wanna be like that when I am older.
My twenty minutes are almost up. See you soon.
LATER EDIT: Thanks to Hotnews for linking me.
So good. The first night somebody peed on our tent. The second night somebody slept on our tent, passed out completely. It is full of weirdos, nice display of tattoos so far. MGMT performance was nice, I think they are going to do great, although the voice needs growing. Internet is free in batches of 20 minutes, but the line can be somewhat of a discouragement. I cannot find all the signs on the Hungarian keyboard. Hence I write it is, not its shorter version. The coffee people have constantly taken me for a fool, charging me extra. Their loss. See you soon.
This blogger is going to sleep first, then to Sziget.
See you all later. I so deserve a vacation.
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