Declare this an emergency
come on and spread a sense of urgency
and pull us through
and pull us through
and this is the end
this is the end of the world

it’s time we saw a miracle
come on it’s time for something biblical
to pull us through
and pull us through
and this is the end
this is the end of the world

proclaim eternal victory
come on and change the course of history
and pull us through
and pull us through
and this is the end
this is the end of the world

Every day I listen to either my current favorite song, a song that somehow summarises my mood or just a song that makes me feel happy before going to bed. I’ll try to post this song as a constant every time before I go to bed – if it’s available on youtube.

I recently rediscovered Muse, and so far I particularly like this song:

la musica e` sotto la vasca

Voce del verbo. Voce. Verbo.
Se stessi. Come se ci si rincorresse, bussare per aprirsi.
La cosa più difficile è rimanere, restare vicini a quello che si vorrebbe.
Essere.
Sentire le proprie mani, le proprie gambe, il proprio respiro.
I movimenti impercettibili del proprio corpo.
Come se ad essere si facesse molta più fatica che a stare o a parlare o ad occupare uno spazio inconsapevole. O ad avere.
Siate pure voi.
In un esortativo da pulpito.
Come se fosse facile essere e non perdere.
Che a perdere non siamo buoni, non ci stiamo a perdere, magari rinunciamo ad essere ma dobbiamo restare con il nostro gruzzolo di partenza.
Che rischiare ci pare significhi solo mettere dei soldi, non provare ad essere.
Semplicemente essere senza condizioni e senza strutture.
Senza omologare pur di farci stare dentro il nostro posto. Caldo e scomodo.
Essere.
Che non essere non è una scelta o un dilemma.
E` solo smettere di guardarsi o rinunciare a respirare.
(E.)

Press play and scroll!

Maybe it’s part of my deep-seated sociopathic tendencies, but I’ve long daydreamed about a lifting of the veil. There’s something seductive about the idea. Much in the same way that Lost mines a collective inner desire to get marooned in a plane crash; the end of the world — deadly chaotic as it may be — feels like our best chance to relax and escape the rat race. When faced with mortgage payments and performance reviews, wouldn’t we all rather be siphoning gas, looting abandoned houses and hiding from feral catamites?

Horrible Disasters seem to mark my life. A few days after I moved into a house in Santa Cruz, some religious assholes flew planes into the World Trade Center. While I was driving down I-5, moving to San Diego, New Orleans was getting obliterated by Katrina. Shortly after I moved back from San Diego, the town threatened to burn itself down. Then, a year later, I was choking on smoke fumes as I walked across the parking lot to a job interview in Northern California. I got the job. And now, it’s LA’s turn again.

Sidebar: this is the fourth catastrophic fire to hit California in the past seven years. And the third year in a row. At what point should we start getting concerned?

Anyway, The night before Katrina wiped out New Orleans, I wrote a blog wherein I expressed my hope that the approaching hurricane would cause catastrophic damage. I got my wish! So let’s give it another shot. I would very much like to see the current fire burn the Hollywood sign. Make it happen!

Muse – Apocalypse Please

Declare this an emergency
come on and spread a sense of urgency
and pull us through
and pull us through

and this is the end
this is the end
of the world

and it’s time we saw a miracle
come on, it’s time for something biblical
to pull us through
and pull us through

and this is the end
this is the end
of the world

proclaim eternal victory
come on and change the cause of history
and pull us through
and pull us through

and this is the end
this is the end
of the world

Intossicati di televisione, ingoiati dalle brutte parole, scritte male e pronunciate peggio.
Ci sono poche parole da salvare e di solito sono quelle pronunciate per caso, senza pensarci troppo.
Certamente non vengono fuori dalla televisione. O non le si trova sulle pagine di un giornale.
Spesso si incontrano per caso.
E tutto il resto pare pornografia. Tutto. Condito di ipocrisia, di voyeurismo, di benevolenza.
Ci restano solo alcuni pionieri. Fotografi per caso, pensatori da marciapiede.
Solitari parolieri, mogol delle ombre.

Nous sommes votre maigre satisfaction dans un monde composé de faux authentique. La substance pure disparaît au profit d’une société du faux. L’ère de l’Hyper réalité est arrivé, allé tous regarder de la pornographie dure. (Benoit Paillé)

(E.)

Matt Bellamy - he's from Teignmouth. My grandparents used to go there on holiday.

New Muse Album and Tour later this year.

‘Otherworldly disco’, ‘orchestral monsters’, ‘at least one 15 minute space-rock solo’, ‘it may just be one 50 minute symphony’, ‘like a full collaberation with an orchestra’, ’we’ll be knocking on Classic FM’s door, you know?’

…and apparently Matt’s composing all the orchestral parts himself ‘cos he’s worried about another composer changing his music.

Sounds awesome.

I tend to think of Origin of Symmetry as their most consistently brilliant album so far, but there are great things about all of them.

I would possibly choose Unintended from Showbiz as their single best song, I tend to find that if I can play a song on guitar it makes it less impressive, but in this case, even though I can play and sing it (sometimes even at the same pitch as Matt) at the same time, I still love it. Escape is also a favourite. I’m not necessarily opposed to lots of production, I think music should sound how the artist intends it to sound, I’m mainly interested in quality of lyrics and composition than ’sound’, but this is a good ‘raw’ album.

My favourite songs on Origin would have to be Space Dementia, Citizen Erased, and Micro Cuts has grown to be one of my favourites after initially being the weird song that I usually skipped.

Absolution has Butterflies & Hurricanes. It’s worth having just for that really. I’m not a big fan of Time Is Running Out, although I do play and sing along to that too. Obviously there’s Stockholme Syndrome and Apocalypse Please which are also great.

Black Holes & Revelations excites me less, but works well live. I would like Knights of Cydonia a lot more if it didn’t contain the suggestion that God falls asleep on the job. Watching the Invincible guitar solo is one of the highlights on the HAARP dvd, and I love the Maggie’s farm ending to Map of the Problematique (obviously that’s not part of Black Holes, but to me it’s part of what Muse are about). If you don’t already have the Grand Omega Bosses Edit of Assassin (B-side to Knights of Cydonia), you have to hear it, I can only assume it was left off the album because it’s too good, the rest of Black Holes sounds boring in comparison.

Muse’s ‘best yet’ – BBC
Theories about the new Album at MuseWiki
Tour Details coming soon – Muse official website

declaro esto una emergencia
vamos y extiende una sensación de urgencia
y empújanos
empújanos
y este es el fin
este es el fin del mundo

es hora de que veamos un milagro
vamos, es hora de algo bíblico
para empujarnos
y empujanos
y este es el fin
este es el fin del mundo

proclama la victoria eterna
vamos y cambia el curso de la historia
y empújanos
y empújanos
y este es el fin
este es el fin del munco

Two hundreds miles above Central Asia, the skies are visibly calmer as polar mesospheric clouds are captured on film. While the earth is still shrouded in darkness, the clouds are illuminated by the first streaks of sunlight (courtesy of NASA)

Calendari e nuvole rosa su questo mattino di fine anno.
Un sole arancio da risveglio da savana sui tetti lividi di una città che dorme senza scampo, col ghiaccio a terra e la neve a pochi chilometri, sui rami spogliati da un inverno inclemente e due cuffiette nelle orecchie che concilierebbero piu` il sonno che un inizio di giornata di lavoro.
Il cielo si tinge di rosa, colora le finestre e i cavalcavia, la lattuga oltre i guard-rails, le scavatrici lasciate a dormire lungo la strada.
Dura qualche minuto questo silenzio e questa magia, poi tutto torna normale, come se te lo fossi sognato e il sole, un miracolo, inonda tutto, come fosse sempre stato lì.
Lì a guardare tutto.
Il mondo, i conflitti, le bombe, i morti ammazzati, le auto accartocciate, gli addobbi natalizi, i libri sul comodino, i corpi nudi di chi si ama e i corpi denudati dalla povertà e dalla morte.
Le cose tutte insieme, sparpagliate come in una soffitta, come un riassunto strampalato, fatto di immagini, di gol, di tacchi a spillo, di elezioni, di striscia di gaza, di into the wild, di finestrini appannati, di pagine scritte fitte, di mani troppo spesso dimenticate.
E avremo un secondo in più domani. Lo hanno stabilito senza chiederci il permesso.
E giù retorica sul valore di un secondo.
Che vale davvero un secondo. Non un primo, nè un dessert.
Vale quanto una parola detta piano, senza fretta. Che duri il tempo giusto e che significhi tutto il suo significato, pieno, senza risparmiarsi.
Vi auguro quella parola.
Quella che volete.
Ché si muore un po’ quando qualcosa finisce e gli occhi pieni di lacrime illuminano ancora di più la vista di un sole inatteso.
Io prendo il sole. Lo prendo per mano, lo infilo nei calzettoni. Fin quando ce n’è.
(E.)