Category Archives: Music
I stayed in Manhattan once.
I should have ordered a Manhattan and listened to this track.
Instead I had a Vodka Martini and went to a jazz club in Bleecker Street, probably in that order.
Many, many months have passed by since then. Now, I would never be so conceptually unintact.
I took the eldest daughter to Wembley last night to see the ginger-headed one – the best bit I felt was when he referenced his Irish roots (and my Scottish ones) by singing The Parting Glass acapella. The rest, well, it wasn’t altogether my cup of tea, but there’s no knocking the lad’s intent, his passion and the overall workrate. And he’s only 24.
His set was just over 2 hours long, alone with his guitars, and without a break. He held the audience’s attention, although my own mind wandered from time to time. I took a few photos – as did thousands of others.
We spent the night high up in the gods and, looking down, as the sun set, I was reminded of nothing more than Ai Weiwei’s Sunflower Seeds that made me so angry some years back in the Tate Modern’s Turbine Hall. That was a blog post that never got written, and never will, now.
A lifetime ago.
Goodnight and joy be with you all
Today would be the late great Robert Nesta Marley’s 70th birthday.
Happy Birthday Bob Marley. What better way to celebrate than with this wonderful song that showcases the particular timbre of his voice which is utterly unique and about as soulful as I think it gets.
Go here for more songs, great photos, and a better article than I can put together, which is only what Bob deserves.
There’s something about this rehearsal recording that is very touching.
The performance is not earth-shattering; it’s a rehearsal after all. I think it’s to do with the lack of audience. The pair are stripped right back, playing only for the other musician: George Harrison plays to Bob Dylan, and Dylan plays back to him.
There’s a moment where Harrison relaxes. It’s palpable. Enjoy.
Re: the previous post.
This is more like it – properly turned out for a music video too.
Here endeth the August jukebox mofos. Back to peeling paint next time.
Good song, fo sho. But the chutzpah of it – turning up at the Royal Albert Hall to tinkle the ol’ joanna in just yer vest and not a medallion in sight.
It’s thrown me into a regular linguistic confusion.
In my case, I wish I was good at shopping. As everyone knows: I am rubbish at it. Still, there’s always this song to groove to after looking at literally thousands of products, with NO SUCCESS. If you’ve had a birthday recently, all I can offer on the gift front is: I am behind. Sorry!