Nu te teme, e genul de iubire îndreptată către cel mai bun prieten. Dar tot iubire este, deci se potriveşte şi aici. La mulţi ani! Şi să ne trăieşti (deşi suntem destui cei care uneori ţi-am rupe gâtul). Sper că ai pregătit borcanele…

sau, dacă preferi…

Din borcan, din sticla, merge chiar si din pahar. Daca are gheata.

From Allmusic we learn that despite a huge hit single in the mid-’70s (“The Boys Are Back in Town”) and becoming a popular act with hard rock/heavy metal fans, Thin Lizzy are still, in the pantheon of ’70s rock bands, under-appreciated. Formed in the late ’60s by Irish singer/songwriter/bassist Phil Lynott, Lizzy, though not the first band to do so, combined romanticized working-class sentiments with their ferocious, twin-lead guitar attack. As the band’s creative force, Lynott was a more insightful and intelligent writer than many of his ilk, preferring slice-of-life working-class dramas of love and hate influenced by Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, and virtually all of the Irish literary tradition. Also, as a black man, Lynott was an anomaly in the nearly all-white world of hard rock, and as such imbued much of his work with a sense of alienation; he was the outsider, the romantic guy from the other side of the tracks, a self-styled poet of the lovelorn and downtrodden. His sweeping vision and writerly impulses at times gave way to pretentious songs aspiring to clichéd notions of literary significance, but Lynott’s limitless charisma made even the most misguided moments worth hearing.

Sadly, Lynott died in 1986 at the age of 35 as the result of his longtime abuse of heroin, cocaine and alcohol, but the alcohol really was not his fault inasmuch as he was, after all, Irish. The following is a videoclip of Thin Lizzy performing an amped up version of the traditional Irish song, Whiskey In The Jar on Britain’s Top Of The Pops in 1973.

Sean has gone down home to Cork today which means I’m free – free! – for the next 24 hours to window shop and snap photos like a tourist. I can troll the Rimmel section at Boots, try on hats at Topshop, browse issues of Glamour UK at Waterstones, and pose next to Molly Malone all I like!! Yippee!! Sorry, Sean, but there are just some things you can’t do with a man around.

The drugstores sell Maybelline and L’Oreal, but not Cover Girl. There is a Boots brand of cosmetics.  Spray-on deodorants appear to be very popular for women as well as for men. I can’t afford any of the lovely clothes or shoes I’m seeing until I find a way to get paid in Euro and it is almost impossible to get a clear picture of Molly Malone since so many people pass by her on the street or plunk themselves at her feet. And all the poor girl wants to do is sell her cockles and mussles, alive alive-o. Give a working girl a chance! ‘Tis a busy life, sweet Molly Malone. Ah, that it is.

We moved in to our new apartment last night. After Sean left for the train station, I began the day by coordinating maintenance men as they fixed and re-fixed the toilet, then plastered up a hole in the wall.

“Welcome to Ireland,” said Sean last night as we discovered the non-flushing toilet and the hole. “Typical Irish standards. Cowboys, the lot of them!”

Regardless, it is a lovely apartment in a lovely brick Victorian Dublin house with white spiral staircases – flooded with light, cozy, and beautifully furnished. A lovely apartment in a lovely house on a lovely street.

Street signs are always written in both English and Irish.  Cars are always cute.

There are trees lining the street and gardens inside the wire fences.

After a day of trolling the college campus and searching for a Mac store – unless any of you know how to reset the password on my computer so I can install broadband – I’m in an internet cafe on Grafton Street. Grafton Street is lined with red bricks, forming a pedestrianized gallery of shops and restaurants stretching from the famous Molly Malone statue to the lush St. Stephen’s Green. When I first arrived in Dublin, the luxurious foliage in St. Stephen’s was all bright Irish green. It has become increasingly blanketed by yellow and red leaves as fall begins.

There is a busker playing Thin Lizzy’s “Whiskey in the Jar” down on the street as I type – a far more welcome companion to my money guzzling internet cafe hour than cigarette smoke and pervy teenage boys reading manga porn. It’s a song I’d never heard until a week ago, when Sean played it for me on his uncle’s stereo. He couldn’t believe I’d never heard it before and neither could I.

Hunched over, my shoulders hurt after a day of dragging my laptop in search of Dublin’s Mac store but I’m happy dreaming of dinner and Rimmel lipstick and the brick houses on the street where I live.

Anche questo week ho passato una serata impegnativa, una di quelle serate che il giorno dopo i ricordi non si focalizzano bene nella mente, ma si esprimono in senso di nausea, mal di testa e sonnolenza… Però tutto questo ne è valsa la pena per la stupenda serata passata con diversi amici, e non, al Papaya di Milano…

Tornato a casa ho vomitato davanti al cancellone e al cancellino… Credo fossero le 5 del mattino… Ho preso la scopa e l’acqua e mi son messo a pulire… Sbronzo marcio… La mattina alle dieci mi sveglia mia madre, io ero sul divano che russavo come un indemoniato… Roba che Gerry aveva paura di scendere pensando ci fosse un orso o una bestia del genere…

Insomma, apro gli occhi, neanche il tempo per fare mente locale che mi trovo di fronte due agenti della Guardia Forestale, uno con un bastone con attaccato un laccio di ferro che mi punzecchiava, l’altro prendeva la mira con un fucile enorme, credo uno di quelli che sparano le siringhe con il tranquillante… Allora mi alzo, farfuglio qualcosa con la bava alla bocca… Quello col fucile urla qualcosa del tipo “Ahhhh E’ ENORME!!!”, ricordo un boato… E niente più…

Mi sveglio con la terra in bocca, tossisco stordito e assordato dal casino infernale, rumore di uccelli, scimmie, elefanti e cincillà mi circondano, mi debilitano e si appropriano di me sempre di più. Apro gli occhi e noto che sono circondato da una folta vegetazione… Non è di certo il giardino di casa mia, mancano le melanzane e i pomodori dell’orto. Ci sono piante assai estranee alla mia nulla conoscienza botanica, colori mai visti e sensazioni a me sconosciute. Sono nudo e sento pizzicare in testa. Mi tocco e sento un urlo! Una scimmietta mi stava spidocchiando alla grande, più in la un’altra mi guarda divertita, di fianco invece, una scimmietta vestita di giacca e cravatta che, fumando un sigaro, mi guarda schifata, sputa, guarda l’ora e se ne va…

Ad un certo punto un boato più forte di tutti che fa azzittire l’intero ecosistema circostanziale, fauna e flora tremano e scappano piu forte che mai… Non è un terremoto ma tutto vibra… A colpi sempre più assordanti e veloci… Sempre più vicini… Guardo la pozzanghera d’acqua che vibra e forma cerchi concentrici sempre più ritmici, sembra quasi che anche lei voglia scappare! Un altro boato assordante, mi ricordo quindi di quel film dei dinosauri… Cazzo non sarà mica un T-Rex… Per precauzione mi appoggio ad un albero e rimango immobile, cazzo se non mi muovo non mi vede, penso… Ma come avranno pensato poi gli scienziati storici ad aver socperto sta cazzate della visibilità dei T-Rex soggetta soltanto al movimento… Comunque non c’è troppo da pensare, bisogna agire dato che se il lucertolone ha fame con me ce ne da saziarzi, un mozzarellone così farebbe gola a tutti.

Le foglie giganti di fronte a me continuano a muoversi, la bestia ancora sconosciuta continua a fare casino e sento che viene verso di me, io non mi muovo, e non è freddezza, ma fifa vera e propria! Porca puttana è proprio un T-Rex, ma dove cazzo sono finito!!! E’ enorme e fa veramente brutto, si guarda attorno e continua ad annusare, fin quando non si avvicina col muso verso di me… E’ spaventosissimo, sbava più di un Rottweiler e ha denti enormi e le narici grandi quanto la mia testa… Mi annusa e starnutisce schifato, poverò me faccio schifo anche ai tirannosauri, beh poco importa, l’importante è che se ne vada, difatti si sta spostando come se non ci fossi… Si affianca all’albero, alza la zampa destra e come un cane mi piscia addosso tutto quello che ha…

Ad un certo punto mi sveglio di colpo! Batto la testa contro l’armadio a ponte e bestemmio… Mi alzo per prendere dei pantaloncini e scendere a darmi una sistemata… Sono ancora scioccato e vado in bagno, apro la porta  e cosa vedo… La scimmietta in giacca e cravatta seduta sul cesso che legge “Il sole 24 ore” e fuma il sigaro, mi guarda schifata e mi dice: “Levati dalle palle coglione, non vedi che ho da fare? Piuttosto preparami un caffè e datti una sistemata che faresti schifo anche ad un T-Rex… A proposito, ho letto che stanotte ne è scappato uno dallo zoo, fai attenzione quando esci!”

Sento pungere verso di me, urlo dal dolore e mi giro di colpo, cazzo ancora le due guardie forestali, quello col fucile urla “Cazzo è ancora VIVO!!!!” ricordo un boato… E niente più…

Importante: Ci mancava Mino ieri sera, purtroppo ha avuto un problema che non so ancora se ha risolto oppure no! Domani gli scriverò, sappi Mino che gli amici esistono ancora e non ti hanno mai abbandonato, se hai bisogno noi siamo qui, ho scritto queste cazzate per farti fare due risate, per farti ricordare di noi, di tutto quello che abbiamo da dire e da fare insieme… Non è finita qui, ti metto un video che è stato colonna sonora del nostro week, il delirio si è impossestato di noi, come ai vecchi tempi… Ricordi?

Metallica – Whiskey In The Jar – From YouTube

]]> http://seopetriii.wordpress.com/2009/05/29/perjantai-pillutpuskat-kuntoo-ammat/ Fri, 29 May 2009 14:45:31 +0000 seopetriii http://seopetriii.wordpress.com/2009/05/29/perjantai-pillutpuskat-kuntoo-ammat/

Brasilia

laisella

bikini

vahauksella

pahoja

seurauksia?

New Jerseyn osavaltiossa Yhdysvalloissa halutaan kieltää kokonaan brasilialainen vahaus, jossa poistetaan kaikki genitaalialueen karvat, kertoo uutistoimisto AP.

Asiaa on alettu harkita sen jälkeen, kun kaksi naista ilmoitti loukkaantuneensa brasilialaisen vahauksen seurauksena. Molemmat ovat joutuneet sairaalaan tulehduksien takia. Yksi naisista on nostanut lakisyytteen.

Tekniseltä kannalta genitaalialueiden vahaus ei ole ollut edes sallittua, mutta sitä on tehty, koska brasilialaista vahausta ei ole erikseen kielletty. Tavalliset bikinivahaukset aiotaan kuitenkin jatkossakin sallia.

Kiellosta voi olla isoakin haittaa kosmetologiyrittäjille, sillä brasilialainen vahaus on suosittua naisten keskuudessa.

Ei ole tiedossa, että mikään muu Yhdysvaltain osavaltio olisi kieltänyt brasilialaisen vahauksen.

ONKO PUSKAT AJETTU?? PETRI JA KANERVA TULEE TARKASTAAAAAAAAN,,,

NÄTTIÄ TELTTAA,,,SISÄÄ VAIKKEI SEISOISKA???

KAIKKEE PITÄÄ OLLA…?

HUPS,,VITTUMAISET MARTINA AITOLEHDET KÄYNY TÄSSÄ,,,SYSTSEM? SYDEEMI?,,KATELLAA SYSSYMÄLLÄ…

AIKA VITU HYVÄ PIIRTÄÄ..VOI KYRPÄ..

VITTU NÄTTIÄ,,,KATO NÄSINEULA !!!!!

Poliisin mukaan nuori mies ampui katkaistulla haulikolla yhden laukauksen vartijaa ja kultasepänliikkeen työntekijää kohti.

SIIS VITUN HULLU VIIKONLOPPU TULOSSA,,,MÄÄ VITTU TUNNEN SEN,,,TÄÄ HELLE SAA SUOMALAISET SEKOON,,EIKÄ SEO AINA NIIN POSITIIVISELLA TAVALLA TIÄXÄÄ,,SANON VAA ETTÄ OLKAA ONNELLISII KU SELVIITTE MAANANTAIHIN,,VIIKONLOPPU+HELLE+SCHOOLS OUT+VIINAA+HUUMEET+AURINKO+TÄSTÄ TULEE HULLUA,,,

ÖÖÖÖ,,HMMM ONKO NOILLA SEMMONEN HERKKU SPAGETTI IMU SETTI MENOSSA TOSSA,,,MMM,,VITTU HERKULLISTA MUTTA MÄÄ TAIDAN PASSAA TÄN,,,EI TOI OO MILLÄÄ VITULLA HIENO HATTUKA,,,ENMÄÄTIÄ,,

MAAILMAN PARAS PERSE??? HHMMMMM,,,,,NOENTIÄ AIKA PANNUKAKKU SETILLÄ OLLAA LIIKENTEESSÄ…

RIKAS PILLUMAGNEETTI,,,

VÄHÄÄ AIKAA HUIPUIMMAN ELOKUVAN KANAMUNAT,,,,NÄTTIÄ,,,

Seksiä joka päivä! Big Brotherista tutut Henna ja Antti seurustelevat nyt tositarkoituksella, kertoo 7 päivää -lehti.

PAINA MENEE ANTTI!!! HENNA ON KULEMMA KOVA PANEEN…..

WISKIÄ KONEESEE !!!!!!!!

Kohublondi Johanna Tukiaisen laulajanura on kohta julkista, sillä juhannuksena hän laulaa ensimmäisen kerran Lööppijulkkis-laulun yleisön edessä Porissa RMJ Party Campissa.

SIIS HUH,,MENEEKÖ TÄÄ LÄPI?? LÖÖPPIJULKKIS??,OLISKO TÄÄ PITÄNY TEHÄ JO KOLME VUOTTA SITTE ????,,MILLASTA MUSAA TÄÄOIKEE TULEE OLEEN ,,,VOISINKO MÄÄ TEHÄ YHTEISTYÖTÄ JOTENKI??? MÄÄ OON VITUN HÄMMENTYNY,,PÄÄSENKÖ MÄÄ TAUSTATANSSIJAX???????

VÄÄRÄ VITUN VUOSI,,,NYTO 2009 JA TÄNÄ VUONNA TULEE MUN LEVY !!!!!!

TYTÖILLE ANNAN PIPPELII, ÄMMILLE MUNAA, HUORILLE KYRPÄÄ JA FRIIKEILLE JUNAA,,,

Este tema tradicional irlandés llamado “Whiskey in the jar”, es una de las canciones más interpretadas y versionadas por diferentes grupos de la historia de la música. Se cuentan por decenas, los grupos que la han interpretado. Desde la visión Folk de The Dubliners, hasta la más guitarrera de Thin Lizzy, grupo que la acercó al mundo del rock, sin olvidar a Metallica, que con su versión, obtuvo un Grammy.

En resumen “Whiskey in the jar”, cuenta la historia de un bandolero que es traicionado por una mujer. Dicho bandolero, había robado a un funcionario ingles, llamado Farrel. De vuelta a casa con el botín, su amante o mujer (no queda muy claro su relación) se la juega, ya que el capitán Farrel, le sorprende en casa, supuestamente avisado por la señorita Molly, Ginny o Genny, dependiendo la versión que se escuche, y es encarcelado. La canción termina, con el reo, perjurando que no acabará sus días en ese lúgubre lugar y que logrará recuperar la libertad.

El origen de la historia es desconocido. El historiador de música folk Alan Lomax, la sitúa en el siglo XVII. Se presupone que el origen de la misma se localiza en las montañas de Cork y Kerry en Irlanda, como se cita en la primera línea de la canción. En la etapa expansionista, de la corona británica en tierras norteamericanas, se popularizó esta canción, versionándola con distintos sucesos contra cargos británicos en tierras americanas. De esta manera, una versión de esta canción habla de Alan McCollister, un soldado que es sentenciado a muerte por robar a oficiales británicos.

No queremos dejar pasar la ocasión, para hablar de uno de los grupos irlandeses más influyentes en las últimas décadas, los Thin Lizzy. Este grupo irlandés fundado en Dublín a finales de la década de los 60, fue una autentico soplo de aire fresco en esta época. Fueron pioneros del uso de dos guitarras melódicas simultáneamente, que influenciaron claramente en grupos posteriores como Iron Maiden o Judas Priest. A su vocalista Phil Lynott, se le considera por muchos, uno de los mejores compositores de la historia. Tienen auténticos clásicos de la historia del rock como “The boys are back in town” ,“Bad Reputation” o el propio “Whiskey in the jar”, que te presentamos a continuación.

Descarga la canción pinchando sobre la carátula

En el siguiente video, aparece la versión de Metallica, que les valió el grammy.

Si quieres conocer todas la canciones con historia disponibles en nuestra web,  pincha aquí.

Tobi has hooked us all up again. Here you go, enjoy!

The Gaslight Anthem – Live From The CD101 Big Room (2009)
http://rapidshare.com/files/221142690/The_Gaslight_Anthem-Live_From_The_CD101_Big_Room-2009.rar

The Gaslight Anthem – Turner Hall Ballroom 04.02.09
http://rapidshare.com/files/221143070/The_Gaslight_Anthem-Turner_Hall_Ballroom-04-02-09.rar

The Turner Hall Ballroom thing is just a cover of Whiskey In The Jar. Both packages have the videos converted to avi and the mp3s normalized and tagged as always, enjoy!

Working up in the garret in Clarendon Street, sometimes called the eyrie, is a new experience for me.

Firstly, there are three Andrews up here at the moment which makes any form of meaningful communication virtually impossible.

Secondly, I didn’t realise how much I missed the office banter… bouncing ideas off the creative team (having my ideas purloined for our in house competition!).

You just don’t get this working from home, nor do you get the occasional cup of tea which, as anyone who has attended a recent Authoring Tool workshop will understand, is best when made by someone else.

Highlights, so far, has to have been getting first pint of Guinness in with the band in Peadar’s bar striking up ‘Wild Rover’, then moving on to ‘No Man’s Land’.   How clever was I to coincide my visit to colleagues with an international day of celebrating all things irish?

Later in another pub up the road the we sang along to ‘Whiskey in the jar’.  It’s St Patrick’s Day today (loved the Eastenders take on getting the day wrong) so possibly more merriment tonight.  Possibly?  Who am I kidding?

Now did I pack my bodhran? Altogether,  “And it’s no nay never, tum, tum tum tum…”

Andy H

Hoje, meus amigos, é dia de usar verde e tomar trago. Sim, vamos comemorar o Saint Patrick’s Day. Um costume que vem, aos poucos, ganhando adeptos pelo mundo, independente da ligação com o país de origem ou com a religião em questão. Claro que a bebida é o que nos une neste sagrado dia.

Antes de mais nada, vamos a um pouco de história. St Patrick’s Day é um dia de celebração a São Patrício, um dos padroeiros da Irlanda (lá é feriado). É uma festividade ligada a Igreja Católica, e atualmente, as pessoas fazem desfiles e utilizam roupas da cor verde, degustam comida irlandesa e bebem cerveja, whiskey ou irish cream. Há também a tradição de usar o Shamrock, o trevo de três folhas que São Patrício usava, para representar a santíssima trindade.

Fora da Irlanda, o St Patrick’s Day é comemorado em diversos países com população de origem irish. Sem contar essas localidades, a data virou um ode ao trago interminável. É exatamente esta desculpa que eu e possivelmente algumas centenas de malucos vão usar nesta terça-feira, em Porto Alegre. Temos uma vasta programação na cidade devido ao grande número de pubs irlandeses. Ainda não defini o meu roteiro, mas aí vão algumas opções:

Shamrock Irish Pub – bar do Simon, irlandês da gema, que vai fazer uma patcha festa. A cada quatro pints de Guiness, ganha uma na faixa. Ingressos limitados a R$ 20,00.

Dublin Irish Pub – Pula-pula de chopp Brahma a noite toda e muitas outras surpresas. O ingresso é isento para quem for com alguma roupa verde.

Mulligam – vai estar cheio, sem dúvida. E tem um chopp incrível, além da tradicional pint de Guiness.

Para aquecer os tamborins, quer dizer, os canecos, postei o vídeo da banda The Dubliners, cantando o clássico Whiskey In The Jar, que deve ser o hino dessa noite. Whack for my daddy-o, there’s whiskey in the jar!

I’m told Saint Patrick’s Day is a bigger deal here in the States than in Ireland, or at least that the celebrations/parades are bigger. I don’t really know about that, but I do know that the people here in Portland, OR will party for any reason even Groundhog’s Day. Scratch that, especially Groundhog’s Day. Anyway, with St. Patty’s looming like an Indian from a Ken Kesey novel I thought I would compile a list of bands to check out to help you organize your iPod playlist for March 17th.

Of course one could be inclusive and include any band from Ireland such as U2 or Oppenheimer, but ‘m going for over the top here. I’m going with bands that are unmistakably Irish from the first note of a song even if they may actually be from Boston or London. So here they are in no particular order. Please leave a comment if there is a band you feel I have neglected.

Drop Kick Murphy’s

How can you not have these guys. Loud, sound drunk, and I swear I get transported to some Irish pirate ship every time I hear them.

The Pogues

I think they may actually be Irish pirates, just happened to have been born in England.

Flogging Molly

Less punk and more traditional, these guys will give your party emotional balance.

Now I hear you say, “But dude, I don’t want to just get drunk and party and get in a fight.” Too which I say, “Pussy.”

But alright. Here’s for your less…enthusiastic party, shall we say.

The Corrs

Very pretty to look at and they are actually good at what they do.

The Chieftans

The great thing about these guys is their first 10 albums are titled 1, 2, 3, 4, you get the idea. They’re for your trad crowd.

Enya

Well, you saw Titanic, ’nuff said.

Now for your less Irish sounding Irish, just because:

U2

Van Morrison

Oppenheimer

The Boomtown Rats

Thin Lizzy

Well, that should get you going. iPod up, party down, and call some Irish dude a Mick. Because everyone should be punched by an Irishman once, at least.

Musha rig um du rum da, / Whack fol the daddy O,
Whack fol the daddy O, / There’s whiskey in the jar

Die Hälfte der Woche ist Geschichte und in dieser Ausgabe von „Video zur Wochenmitte“ möchte ich mich einem Lied im Wandel der Zeit widmen. Es ist ein großartiges irisches Volkslied mit dem Titel: Whiskey in the Jar. Und so dürfte das hunderte Jahre alte Original klingen.

Dann kam die Version von Thin Lizzy:

Und schließlich Metallica.

Si, falta la 13 y la catorce. Pero bueno, la última ha sido la quince, y vamos a por ella. Esta sesi´ñon viene marcada por el desastre musical que resultó la anterior, y que nos dejó muy tocados, sobre todo a Nacho. Por eso, a la semana siguiente programamos otra, para quitarnos el mal rollo. Esta sí sonó mejor.

Al Grano. Entramos con Honky Tonk Woman. Buena, buena.

Después del poderío sucio, dejamos limpio el sonido, y nos lanzamos a Six Blade Knife, quizá nuestra versión más personal en nuestro repertorio. Aquí la hicimos sin micrófono.

Seguimos limpios. Una que no acaba de sonar como los primeros días, pero que va cogiendo un toque propio muy interesante. Sweet Home Alabama.

Una de las que nos quedarán bien algún día. De momento no acaba de cuajar, pero deja buenas sensaciones. Whiskey In The Jar.

Perlaza al canto. Esta nos dará tardes de gloria. Desde la primera toma ya suena como un cañón. Jumpin’ Jack Flash, de los Stones.

A por otra joya. El grandioso Money For Nothing. Esta sería mucho mejor cantarla, pero es que si la canto no me sale la guitarra.

Otra que nos dá mucha guerra por el hecho maravilloso de hacerla “a nuestra manera”. Poco a poco va cogiendo forma.

Volvemos a intentar el Sweet Home Alabama, pero ésta vez con el Bajo de Fabián, que antes no estaba.

Otra de las de la nueva hornada, que aún no suena bien, pero promete. Es nuestro sino: todas prometen, día a día, pero no acaban de quedar nunca bien…. . Cocaine. Tampoco ve mal, pero no sé, debería ser un cañón…

Una de las agradecidas: Another Brick On The Wall. Esta sí que queda bien. Aunque sólo hacemos dos partes del principio, pero tienen marcha y clase.

Vamos por fin a hacer una canción que no es canción, sino desbarre. Es dificil improvisar con banda de 4, porque hay muchas cosas que deben empastar, pero mola más que ninguna otra cosa. Aquí ya nos acompañaba Fran, que grabó con su cámara planos distintos a los de la cámara de la esquina que usamos siempre.

Aquí vemos la mísma canción, grabada por la cámara de Fran. Formáto panorámico y primeros planos. Moooola. . Lo que dice la letra, más o menos, es “ese puto trafo no se vé. Donde está??? donde está???? Lo perdió, la pringó, Ramonín….. Ese puto trafo ya no sé ni donde estás….” etc….

Otra toma del Walk Of Life….. No sé que tiene, que mola mazo.

Tras unos minutos de desfase, nos centramos en Hey Joe. No suena mal. También tiene toma grabada por la cámara de Fran. Como se vé aquí, Fran nos grabó ésta de frente. Con lo sencilla que es, no acaba de convencerme. Pero tiene chicha, tiene.

Y aquí vemos la toma de Fran. De nuevo panorámica, y con más calidad de grabación.

Un ratito de relax, sin tema definido, haciendo el pijo, afinando, etc…

y ahora una de las gordas. Impresionante Six Blade Knife! También tiene toma alternativa, grabada por Fran. Esta es la de la cámara de la esquina…

… y aquí vemos la grabada por Fran. Tremenda, la verdad.

Sesión productiva, a mi entender. Perlas interesantes.

Musical memories – for Bog Raver and Nobbly. Enjoy !!!

I woke up a bit late today, but when I was ready for my day Bethany was still sleeping, so I went out on my own. I bundled up a suitable amount and headed out to meet the beautifully foggy day. Across the football field I walked down the winding garden path where I met knotty, old trees twisted and ripped and turned with age.  The ground was soft and I took each step with care as I embarrassingly feared some sort of sinking sand. At long beautiful last I reach the end of the wooded are and came out to a lovely opening.

I followed the prescribed path as far as I could before my shoes began to fill with sand.  I knew the sand would only increase as I drew nearer the water’s edge so I resigned myself to a seat there in the sand.

Carefully, I removed each shoe, gently placing them on the soft Irish sand, all the while the CD “Whiskey in the Jar” spoke of Irish beaches.  I removed my socks hoping I’d not filled then with too much sand. I emptied my shoes. Socks in pocket, shoes in hand, feet bare, I rose to journey on.

As I approached damp sand I saw to my left the brilliant green, rolling hills. Each square of green a different shade; emerald, jade, forest, olive, all fresh and inviting. The water lay quiet before me as I took as many pictures of it all that I could manage.

I headed the opposite direction toward the sea, my feet now sinking deeper into the cool, wet sand.  Stones lined my path and I picked a few up tumbling them gently in my hand, seeking the perfect one.  I picked up a few perfect shells, though I kicked them over first to ensure they were not still home to some creature.  As I rounded the bend the sea expanded before me and the Mourne Mountains grew in the sun lit mist. and I felt like Bilbo as I wandered nearer the Misty Mountains and the Shire faded further and further behind me.

Though I never faced Smog, I wrestled so many childish issues in my head and put them aside as I thanked God for the small favors, as I looked upon a big one.

My feet became colder so I turned to return to the house. I went back the way I came, as I passed a sign that said something about not walking on the beach when the red flags were out because it meant the military was doing some range shooting. The red flags were out. Unshot, I returned my feet to their toasty shelters when the ground returned to a solid state.

I made the journey back, now less frightened of quick sand, but of trolls and giant spiders and goblins.

I went back to the house and ate lunch with Amelia, who, after hearing the troubles of yesterday, offered me a ride into Belfast.  Not knowing if I’d get a hold of Ruth at all I accepted and we made the journey.

Amelia gave me a wee tour of East Belfast where C.S. Lewis grew up, and she showed me beautiful and powerful murals and a statue of Diggory looking quietly and hopefully into the wardrobe which was just outside the library.

From there I walked (shh, don’t tell Nanny) to the City Centre and waited for Ruth. We met for dinner, and I sat across the table from a total stranger I felt entirely comfortable with.  I’d never met her or seen her and yet it all felt so familiar, but I’d guess that’s how family is meant to feel.

She took me to see Queen’s University before dropping me at the bus station.  I waited there, reading, enthralled by the Little Women I have always loved.

My bus arrived a bit early.  I took my seat and read the whole way back. At peace as the Prince Caspian soundtrack spoke of journey and home and hope and I smiled a quiet smile.

The bus stopped as always outside Spar and I set off on another journey, Prince Caspian playing all the way down and around the corner as I walked the two or so miles up the long, dark road to the house.  The moon shone through the whisping clouds vaguely lighting my path. I crossed the bridge and breathed deeply in the soft, cold air of the sea.

I passed a large, dark shape and as my eyes adjusted I noticed more of the same forms.  I took out my booklight to see a bunch of cows near the road, which startled me. No. Squared the poo out of me, until I remembered I was walking through a cattle grid. And I finally reached the large door of the house to make myself warm.

All in all a successful day. I am at peace with myself and with the world.  Much love to all.

Sesión de nuevo grabada desde la esquina en plano fijo, y sin “colaboradores”. Otro dato reseñable es la vuelta de Ramón a la Stratocaster. El sonido en la sala nos pareció mucho mejor que en la sesión anterior, y quizá sea cierto que las tomas son mejores. Aunque en la grabación no se aprecia tanta diferencia como la que nos pareció que había en la sala.

Si en las últimas tomas Ramón ya iba destapándose para cantar, en ésta sesión la cosa ya toma tintes dramáticos. Sin pudor alguno, desparrama gritos y alaridos de forma lamentable por todas las canciones. Piazo de friki… Podeis entreteneros buscando donde dice, literalmente, “soy un maricón enamorado”, cuando le echan en cara que canta a Metallica como si fuera Heidi. Bueno, pues nada, vamos al ataque. Preliminares:

Promete, eh? Pues tras el calentamiento, nos metemos de lleno con una perlaza. La gran Cocaine, de J.J. Cale, cae a nuestros pies. Esta llegará a sonar muy bien, ya veréis. Veamos los ajustes iniciales, y primeros escarceos:

Va ajustandose. Tras la parada técnica de rigor, hacemos el primer intento serio:

Joder, coooomo mola. Aún no está del todo fina, volvemos a parar, ajustamos detalles, y va la toma de verdad:

Contundente. Seguimos la sesión con una que nos dará tardes de gloria: Whiskey In The Jar. Sonamos muy nuestros, pero quizá se parezca más a la versión de metallica. Lo de Ramón aquí es inenarrable. Sin palabras….

Joer, para ser los primeros escarceos, suena ya de cine. No nos poníamos de acuerdo con la versión, así que paramos para ajustar cositas. Ojo a lo que sigue, que mata. Fijaros en Nacho, que no puede evitar troncharse de risa. Hablando en serio, ésta es un pepinazo. Una bomba.

Uffff, vaya ritmazo. Tras un rato intentando dejarla niquelada, antes de tener bien el final, nos rendimos y probamos una de las que ya tenemos más o menos preparaditas. Aunque como hace tiempo que no la hacemos, no nos acordamos de los giros que tiene. Aún así, su ritmo Stoniano dá para mucho. Otra joya de nuestro repertorio: Lovin’ Cup, de los Rolling Stones:

De nuevo, como dedicamos al tema más de 10 minutos, hay que cortarlo en dos tomas. Vemos aquí la segunda.

Elegante, ritmosa.

Seguimos a todo ritmo, con la mítica Hey Joe, de Jimi Hendrix. Poco rato, pero poderoso.

Va sonando, va…. Esta le gusta mucho a Nacho. Los enormes ZZ Top, “La grange”.

Después de “descansar de ella” para meternos por otras, retomamos de nuevo la que estamos estrenando, la maravillosa “Whiskey In The Jar”, de Metallica. Ya va sonando mejor, fijáos….

De nuevo ajustes, y probamos la definitiva. Las guitarras ya no aturden, se reparten, el ritmo se refina, y en suma ésto funciona:

Un cañón. No os podeis imaginar lo que se disfruta hacerla. Es contundente. Tras la maravilla extraordinaria, vamos con una que nos va a dar más trabajo. No sé que tienen los Straits, que hasta lo más sencillo es imposible de imitar. Nos atrevemos con la “simple” Walk Of Life, que como veréis, en ésta primer toma de contacto suena lastimosa, horripilante. Yo no veo claro que nos acabe sonando bien. Nacho sin embargo es más optimista. Veremos. Walk Of Life, de los legendarios Dire Straits. Voy a dedicársela a Isabel. Porque se lo merece, hala.

Ufff,  qué desastre. Mucho de ello es que no tenemos matizados los cambios de acorde, que son simples pero muy contínuos, y se prestan al lío. Tras la parada técnica, conseguimos un sonido mejor. Pero aún dista mucho de ser aceptable. No me convence.

Seguimos, no nos rendimos, pero realmente, el hecho de hacer más o menos lo que hay que hacer no garantiza resultados. Vamos arreglando los problemas musicales, pero hay algo que falta. No suena, es muy apurada, muy nerviosa. Esto debe de sonar más suave. De todas formas, ya va acercandose algo más. Ya empieza a ser medianamente aceptable.

De nuevo y sin que sirva de precedente, vemos el final de la sesión, con la recogida de cachivaches y los comentarios nuestros sobre lo tocado y sobre lo demás. Interesante jam session de Nacho en el coche, con la guitarra española de Ramón. Qué técnica…. Sobre partitura es tremendo, Nacho.

Es gibt von diesem Song mehrere Versionen. Logisch.

Aber wie so oft ist keine so gut wie das Piece von Thin Lizzy….

Schwer mitzusingen  – beim ersten Mal…

…Musha ring dum a doo dum a da
Whack for my daddy-o
Whack for my daddy-o
Theres whiskey in the jar-o….

Whiskey In The Jar

1993 Live, Shit, Binge & Purge (3cd’s)

cd 1
1.Enter Sandman
2.Creeping Death
3.Harvester of Sorrow
4.Welcome Home (Sanitarium)
5.Sad But True
6.Of Wolf and Man
7.The Unforgiven
8.Justice Medley
9.Solos

cd 2
1.Through the Never
2.For Whom the Bell Tolls
3.Fade to Black
4.Master of Puppets
5.Seek and Destroy
6.Whiplash

cd 3
1.Nothing Else Matters
2.Wherever I May Roam
3.Am I Evil?
4.Last Caress
5.One
6.So What/Battery
7.The Four Horsemen
8.Motorbreath
9.Stone Cold Crazy

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1996 Load

1.Ain’t My Bitch
2.2×4
3.The House Jack Built
4.Until It Sleeps
5.King Nothing
6.Hero of the Day
7.Bleeding Me
8.Cure
9.Poor Twisted Me
10.Wasting My Hate
11.Mama Said
12.Ronnie
13.The Outlaw Torn

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1997 ReLoad

1.Fuel
2.The Memory Remains
3.Devil’s Dance
4.The Unforgiven II
5.Better Than You
6.Slither
7.Carpe Diem Baby
8.Bad Seed
9.Where the Wild Things Are
10.Prince Charming
11.Low Man’s Lyric
12.Attitude
13.Fixxxer

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1998 Garage Inc. (2cds)

cd 1
1. Free Speech For The Dumb
2. It’s Electric
3. Sabbra Cadabra
4. Turn The Page
5. Die Die My Darling
6. Loverman
7. Mercyful Fate
8. Astronomy
9. Whiskey In The Jar
10. Tuesday’s Gone
11. The More I See

cd 2
1. Helpless
2. The Small Hours
3. The Wait
4. Last Caress/Green Helll
5. Am I Evil?
6. Blitzkrieg
7. Breadfan
8. The Prince
9. Stone Cold Crazy
10. So What
11. Killing Time
12. Overkill
13. Damage Case
14. Stone Dead Forever
15. Too Late Too Late -
16. Crash Course in Brain Surgery

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1998 The Complete Garage Days

1. Breadfan
2. The Prince
3. Am I Evil
4. Blitzkrieg
5. Stone Cold Crazy
6. Killing Time
7. So What
8. Helpless
9. The Small Hours
10. The Wait
11. Crash Course In Brain Surgery
12. Last Caress
13. Green Hell
14. Overkill
15. Damage Case
16. Stone Dead Forever
17. Too Late Too Late
18. Whiplash

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