Three decades after their debut album, writer and Pet Shop Boys devotee Tom Hocknell tries to pin down the secret to the pop duo’s endurance.
“What this means, then, is that Apple is engineering a future in which rare, or varying, mixes and versions of songs won’t exist unless Apple decides they do.” A freelance composer discovers that Apple Music deletes music files from his hard drive.
In the dead of night,
blackbird chanting. I listen
til sleep reclaims me.
(27 August 2014)
“Blackbird” is track #19 on the album Love. It was written by Lennon, John Winston / McCartney, Paul James. Read more: Beatles – Blackbird Lyrics | MetroLyrics (includes a link to The Beatles singing “Blackbird”)
On Good Friday I sat in church, watching and listening as most of the congregation followed the priest around the fourteen Stations of the Cross. The woman with the walking-frame, stoically devout, completed the circuit with the others, while her white-muzzled black dog hobbled back and forth up and down the nave, stopping to receive attention from some of those who, like me, had remained in their pews.
Meditations translated from the words of French poet Paul Claudel were spoken gently by a man known for his work as a broadcaster. Between the meditations, periods of silence were terminated by spells of difficult and discordant organ music – some strident, some morose – which I could have done without.
I had earlier told the woman who had welcomed me that my parents had been married in this church, and that I had been baptized here.
I will return to St Peter’s on Willis on Easter Day, looking forward to the Eucharistic ritual I have not shared in since Midnight Mass at Wellington Cathedral on Christmas Eve.
The tradition of moving around the Stations to commemorate the Passion of Christ began with St. Francis of Assisi and extended throughout the Roman Catholic Church in the medieval period. It is also observed in Lutheranism and Anglo-Catholicism. It is most commonly done during Lent, especially on Good Friday (from Wikipedia: Stations of the Cross).
Wikimedia Commons includes a page with links to images of twelve of the fourteen Stations of the Cross by sculptor Jean-Bernard Duseigneur. (This page gives his name as Jean-Baptiste Du Seigneur, and he is elsewhere known as Jehan Duseigneur; eg, on Paris Sculptures.) Born in Paris in 1808, Duseigneur studied at the École des Beaux-Arts, and in 1831 achieved renown when he exhibited Roland Furieux, often regarded as the first romantic sculpture (now in the Louvre). Soon afterwards he turned almost exclusively to the production of religious works (adapted from a brief article in Wikipedia).
PS – Easter Day: The old black dog, Emma, was there again today; she, like the other “regulars”, was wearing her name-tag.
bird-like : mind floods with
The original version of this haiku, dating from a few days ago, had seventeen syllables; it felt clunky and long-winded. I like this four-five-four version better.
The lovely image is one of a group on Stephi Gardens : Casual Gardening in the Suburbs.
Switching my computer on, this morning – and committed to writing – I was in little doubt that material from my dream would find its way into the text. There was something about a woman I loved many years ago returning as a friend. And a bouquet of apparently unrelated images.
Après un rêve, I typed, attempting to impose some semblance of order on my unruly thoughts.
Nothing much came of it. But it did turn out that this morning’s “Composer of the Week” radio talk began with an instrumental arrangement of Gabriel Fauré’s lovely melodie, Après un rêve.
There are numerous versions of this song on YouTube, and some of the comments make interesting reading. I have not listened to them all, but was taken with two: the first, by Véronique Gens (Roger Vignoles, piano); and there’s a splendid version by Barbara Hendricks, accompanied by Michel Dalberto.
Yesterday, on the eve of Bastille Day, I experienced “patriotism” more profoundly than ever before. The agent of my enlightenment was Mireille Mathieu – and I have not a drop of French blood. 😉 PS: I was listening to a radio programme of music by French composers on Radio New Zealand Concert.
This post appeared on a certain Facebook page on 14 July, but I did not have the opportunity to post it here at that time … so I have adjusted the publication date.
Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony was premiered on 7 May 1824. So here’s to Ludwig van Beethoven (who wore a green coat to the premiere).
And here’s the “Som Sabadell flashmob” version of the Finale, which was published on 31 May 2012 to mark the 130th anniversary of the founding of Banco Sabadell.
Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known. (Carl Sagan)
Something fabulous is out there taking shape, emerging, peeking, and calling your name. (quoted in Seed of Fabulosity on Soulseeds)
My parents were not scientists. They knew almost nothing about science. But in introducing me simultaneously to skepticism and to wonder, they taught me the two uneasily cohabiting modes of thought that are central to the scientific method. (Carl Sagan, quoted in Carl Sagan: A Biography, by Ray Spangenburg and Diane Moser) .
Could be! Who knows?
There’s something due any day;
I will know right away,
Soon as it shows.
It may come cannonballing down through the sky,
Gleam in its eye, Bright as a rose!
It’s only just out of reach,
Down the block, on a beach,
Under a tree.
I got a feeling there’s a miracle due,
Gonna come true,
Coming to me!
Could it be? Yes, it could.
Something’s coming, something good,
If I can wait!
Something’s coming, I don’t know what it is,
But it is
Gonna be great!
With a click, with a shock,
Phone’ll jingle, door’ll knock,
Open the latch!
Something’s coming, don’t know when, but it’s soon;
Catch the moon,
Around the corner,
Or whistling down the river,
Come on, deliver
Will it be? Yes, it will.
Maybe just by holding still,
It’ll be there!
Come on, something, come on in, don’t be shy,
Meet a guy,
Pull up a chair!
The air is humming,
And something great is coming!
It’s only just out of reach,
Down the block, on a beach,
Maybe tonight . . .
(Lyrics: Something’s Coming from West Side Story, Book by Arthur Laurents
Music by Leonard Bernstein, Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim)
Spangenburg, Ray; Moser, Diane. 2004. Carl Sagan: A Biography. Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Publishing Group.
There’s nothing remarkable about it. All one has to do is hit the right keys at the right time and the instrument plays itself. (Johann Sebastian Bach)