The sweetness of people
Whistling in their sleep
mountains made of steam, a silver mt. zion
O momento está a chegar.
28.10.08
Please believe
Please believe in gentle dreams
The sweetness of people
Whistling in their sleep
mountains made of steam, a silver mt. zion
The sweetness of people
Whistling in their sleep
mountains made of steam, a silver mt. zion
26.10.08
23.10.08
Não percam esta(s)
Ainda não posso dizer se a governadora Sarah Palin entra ou não, mas a biografia em BD do senador John McCain já se encontra na minha mesinha de cabeceira. Numa altura em que o tempo é escasso para uma leitura mais aprofundada de jornais ou revistas, estes quadradinhos vêm mesmo a calhar. E pela amostra do pouco que li, posso garantir que vale bem a pena. Um lançamento da revista "Visão". Na próxima semana é a vez de Barack Obama.
22.10.08
O seu a seu dono
Isto porque já me perguntaram. De quem é a fotografia? De quem são? És tu? (Palavra. És tu? Quem sabe um dia, disse eu.) Mas, ora bem. As guitarras Gibson que aqui expus no post do passado dia 29 de Setembro (meias guitarras, pronto), são do músico britânico Richard Hawley. Desde Fevereiro que imagens de instrumentos como aqueles não me saem da cabeça. Desde o grandioso concerto daquele artista em Santa Maria da Feira. Já agora, a imagem também não é minha. É de Chris In Brighton. Repito. O seu a seu dono.
19.10.08
It's up in the morning and on the downs
Little white clouds like gambolling lambs
And I am breathless over you
And the red-breasted robin beats his wings
His throat it trembles when he sings
For he is helpless before you
The happy hooded bluebells bow
And bend their heads all a-down
Heavied by the early morning dew
At the whispering stream, at the bubbling brook
The fishes leap up to take a look
For they are breathless over you
Still your hands
And still your heart
For still your face comes shining through
And all the morning glows anew
Still your mind
Still your soul
For still, the fare of love is true
And I am breathless without you
The wind circles among the trees
And it bangs about the new-made leaves
For it is breathless without you
The fox chases the rabbit round
The rabbit hides beneath the ground
For he is defenceless without you
The sky of daytime dies away
And all the earthly things they stop to play
For we are all breathless without you
I listen to my juddering bones
The blood in my veins and the wind in my lungs
And I am breathless without you
Still your hands
And still your heart
For still your face comes shining through
And all the morning glows anew
Still your soul
Still your mind
Still, the fire of love is true
And I am breathless without you
breathless, nick cave & the bad seeds
Little white clouds like gambolling lambs
And I am breathless over you
And the red-breasted robin beats his wings
His throat it trembles when he sings
For he is helpless before you
The happy hooded bluebells bow
And bend their heads all a-down
Heavied by the early morning dew
At the whispering stream, at the bubbling brook
The fishes leap up to take a look
For they are breathless over you
Still your hands
And still your heart
For still your face comes shining through
And all the morning glows anew
Still your mind
Still your soul
For still, the fare of love is true
And I am breathless without you
The wind circles among the trees
And it bangs about the new-made leaves
For it is breathless without you
The fox chases the rabbit round
The rabbit hides beneath the ground
For he is defenceless without you
The sky of daytime dies away
And all the earthly things they stop to play
For we are all breathless without you
I listen to my juddering bones
The blood in my veins and the wind in my lungs
And I am breathless without you
Still your hands
And still your heart
For still your face comes shining through
And all the morning glows anew
Still your soul
Still your mind
Still, the fire of love is true
And I am breathless without you
breathless, nick cave & the bad seeds
16.10.08
Lume do bom
Bruce Springsteen?! Não.
Tom Waits?! Também não.
Sem exageros.
Eaglesmith, Fred Eaglesmith.
Calling Fred Eaglesmith
10.10.08
Oh Lambchop
Pode um álbum valer apenas e só pela sua capa? Provavelmente até pode. Mas aqui não é o caso. (OH) Ohio, novo trabalho dos norte-americanos Lambchop, para além da sua magnífica capa, como acima se pode observar, é também composto por onze músicas todas elas não menos magníficas. Em boa hora estes senhores entraram no meu leitor.
5.10.08
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