Archive for the Category » Mood of the day ! «

Mood of the day : Roger Waters – It’s a miracle

Saturday, February 04th, 2012 | Author:

Album : Amused to death
Released : 1992
Ecoutez ce choeur, à la fin du morceau, la guitare de Jeff Beck … Et la radio qui ponctue la chanson, nous renvoie-t-elle à la fin de “Have a Cigar” sur Wish you were here ? ou encore, à cette télé, entre “Don’t Leave me now”, et “Another brick in the wall part 3″, sur The Wall ?
Extraits choisis : “We’ve got a choice” – “The Lord said Peter I can see Your house from here” (me fait toujours sourir au milieu du morceau, celle-là !) – “An honest man Finally reaped what he had sown”

*******

Miraculous you call it babe
You ain’t seen nothing yet
They’ve got Pepsi in the Andes
Mcdonalds in Tibet
Yosemite’s been turned into
A golf course for the Japs
The Dead Sea is alive with rap
Between the Tigris and Euphrates
There’s a leisure centre now
They’ve got all kinds of sports
They’ve got Bermuda shorts
The had sex in Pennsylvania
A Brazilian grew a tree
A doctor in Manhattan
Saved a dying man for free
It’s a miracle
Another miracle
By the grace of God Almighty
And pressures of marketplace
The human race has civilized itself
It’s a miracle
We’ve got a warehouse of butter
We’ve got oceans of wine
We’ve got famine when we need it
Got a designer crime
We’ve got Mercedes
We’ve got Porsche
Ferrari and Rolls Royce
We’ve got a choice
She said meet me
In the Garden of Gethsemane my dear
The Lord said Peter I can see
Your house from here
An honest man
Finally reaped what he had sown
And farmer in Ohio has just repaid a loan
It’s a miracle
Another miracle
By the grace of God Almighty
And pressures of marketplace
The human race has civilized itself
It’s a miracle
We cower in our shelters
With our hands over our ears
Lloyd-Webber’s awful stuff
Runs for years and years and years
An earthquake hits the theatre
But the operetta lingers
Then the piano lids comes down
And break his fucking fingers
It’s a miracle

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Mood of the day : Supertramp – Fool’s overture

Sunday, November 06th, 2011 | Author:

A couru tôt dans le matin d’un superbe jour d’automne, au travers d’une forêt de bruns châtoyants et d’oranges ensoleillés.
A traversé les arbres baignant dans les rayons éblouissants et chaleureux du soleil de saison, bas sur l’horizon, accueillant et volontaire.
S’est immergé dans les senteurs fraîches des feuilles mortes et humides.

Va interroger ses rêves, et sur les moyens de les transformer en une réalité.

***

Supertramp – Fool’s overture (10:51).
Album : Even in the quietest moments, 1977.
On y trouvait aussi : Give A Little Bit, Even In The Quietest Moments, From Now On

History recalls how great the fall can be
While everybody’s sleeping, the boats put out to sea
Borne on the wings of time
It seemed the answers were so easy to find
“Too late,” the prophets cry
The island’s sinking, let’s take to the sky

Called the man a fool, stripped him of his pride
Everyone was laughing up until the day he died
And though the wound went deep
Still he’s calling us out of our sleep
My friends, we’re not alone
He waits in silence to lead us all home

So tell me that you find it hard to grow
Well I know, I know, I know
And you tell me that you’ve many seeds to sow
Well I know, I know, I know

Can you hear what I’m saying
Can you see the parts that I’m playing
“Holy Man, Rocker Man, Come on Queenie,
Joker Man, Spider Man, Blue Eyed Meanie”
So you found your solution
What will be your last contribution?
“Live it up, rip it up, why so lazy?
Give it out, dish it out, let’s go crazy,
Yeah!”

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Mood of the Day : Pierre Guyaut summer, mais ne se rend pas

Thursday, August 25th, 2011 | Author:

Hommages et Remerciements – sur un fond sonore choisi par Mr Guyaut himself ce soir:

Cette semaine Pierre Guyaut (“La mémoire molle du Rock ‘n Roll”) anime ses dernières émissions “21 rocks” après 40 ans de radio, et en cette fin d’été 2011, une page radiophonique se tourne pour moi. Je rédige ces lignes avec un pincement au coeur, alors que ses jingles (“Pierre Guyaut, la terreur des sonotones”) et salutations (“je pars maintenant, car je préfère partir au faîte de la gloire, plutôt qu’aux fêtes de Wallonie”) ponctuent des morceaux de Queen, des Kinks, Deff Lepard, ACDC, The Whos, des Stones, Paul Personne, Beatles, Eagles, Led Zep, Humble pie, (“Le morceau préféré de Natacha”) Deep Purple, Metallica, (“si vous n’avez pas encore mis votre chat dehors, vous verrez, maintenant il va sortir tout seul – écoutez plutôt”) Motorhead, Megadeath, … Bref, le quotidien de mes soirées lorsque je suis à la maison – et en fait, beaucoup de la musique que j’aime. It’s only Rock ‘n Roll, and i like it – c’est ainsi.

Pierre Guyaut, que je range donc comme précieuseument au moyen de cet article avec Philippe Gauthier (Ah ! Perfecto sur Radio2, à la charnière des années 80 et 90 ! je sais l’ami qui devrait se souvenir, mais qui d’autre se rappelle des fanzines et du répondeur, je me demande ?), Jacques de Pierpont, Martine Matagne, Jacques Mercier, Jean-Paul Smismans, Max, Francis Zegut (!) et quelques autres, principalement mais pas exclusivement de la famille rtbf, lignée 21 (… Radio21, 21, Classic21), et dont les voix et les équipes ont fait et font le bonheur de ma culture radio, et plus particulièrement musicale.

Olivier Monssens reçoit Pierre Guyaut – un peu plus sur Impédances, Jacques Mercier et Route 66, entre autres.

Evidemment, il s’agit de lui – mais finalement, aussi de tous les autres dont le tour est venu, ou viendra; et c’est inéluctable.

Quelqu’un a fini par trouver le moyen de prépensionner Pierre Guyaut … et Natacha par la même occasion.

*révérence*
Ami du soir et de la guitare, au revoir !

Bohemian Rhapsody – Queen, sur A night at the opera, 1974.

Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide,
No escape from reality
Open your eyes, Look up to the skies and see,
I’m just a poor boy, I need no sympathy,
Because I’m easy come, easy go, Little high, little low,
Any way the wind blows doesn’t really matter to me, to me
MAMA just killed a man,
Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he’s dead
MAMA, life had just begun,
But now I’ve gone and thrown it all away
Mama, ooh ooh oooh ohh.., Didn’t mean to make you cry,
If I’m not back again this time tomorrow,
Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters
Too late, my time has come,
Sends shivers down my spine, body’s aching all the time
Goodbye, ev’rybody, I’ve got to go,
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth
Mama, ooh, I don’t want to die,
I sometimes wish I’d never been born at all
I see a little silhouetto of a man,
Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango!

Sent a bolt of lightning, very, very frightening me
(Galileo) Galileo!! (Galileo) Galileo!!, Galileo!!
figaro!!
Magnifico I’m just a poor boy nobody loves me
He’s just a poor boy from a poor family,
Spare him his life from this monstrosity
Easy come, easy go, will you let me go
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let me go) Will not let you go
(Let me go) Will not let you go (Let me go) Ah
No, no, no, no, no, no, no
(Oh mama mia!!!, mama mia) Mama mia, let me go
Beelzebut!.. has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me
So you think you can stop me and spit in my eye
So you think you can love me and leave me to die
Oh, baby, can’t do this to me, baby,
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here
Nothing really matters, Anyone can see,
Nothing really matters,
Nothing really matters to me
Any way the wind blows

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Category: C'est ainsi, Incontrovertible, Mood of the day !  One Comment

Mood of the day : Double shot !

Thursday, August 18th, 2011 | Author:

Yop, jour anniversaire, que je clos sur deux chansons, après une belle journée de mois d’août, faite (pêle-mêle) de soleil, de nombreux rires, messages sympathiques et affectueux, une séance photo pour un article à venir, et la visite de témoins de Jéovah (Ben oui, tout arrive).

Perfect Day, de Lou Reed, en 1972, sur Transformer, album post Velvet. Repris à ma connaissance et dans le désordre par Nick Cave – peut-être même est-ce encore une version différente lorsqu’il la chante avec ses mauvaises graines ? – U2, Suzanne Vega, et Tom Jones, et probablement beaucoup d’autres. Je suis sûr que vous aurez l’une ou l’autre version supplémentaire en tête.

Just a perfect day
drink sangria in the park
And then later when it gets dark
we go home

Just a perfect day
feed animals in the zoo
Then later a movie too
and then home

Oh, it’s such a perfect day
I’m glad I spent it with you
Oh, such a perfect day
You just keep me hanging on
you just keep me hanging on

Just a perfect day
problems all left alone
We can do this on our own
it’s such fun

Just a perfect day
you made me forget myself
I thought I was someone else
someone good

Oh, it’s such a perfect day
I’m glad I spent it with you
Oh, such a perfect day
You just keep me hanging on
you just keep me hanging on

You’re going to reap just what you sow
You’re going to reap just what you sow
You’re going to reap just what you sow
You’re going to reap just what you sow

Et, Double Shot oblige, comme je l’entends alors que je rédige ces lignes, la succession des morceaux de Dark Side of The Moon – aujourd’hui, je retiens Time : ça sonne comme de circonstance, alors qu’une autre année commence. Mais ce sera sans doute sur The Great Gig in The Sky que je m’endormirai dans un instant …

Pink Floyd : Time – (Mason, Waters, Wright, Gilmour)

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way.
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.

Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain.
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today.
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you.
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.

So you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it’s sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again.
The sun is the same in a relative way but you’re older,
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death.

Every year is getting shorter never seem to find the time.
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over,
Thought I’d something more to say.

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Mood of the day : Dire straits – Telegraph road

Sunday, July 31st, 2011 | Author:

… Moment détente d’après course dominicale …

Paraît sur l’album Love Over Gold, en 1982 – je vous recommande cette version longue, pour le son incroyable du final.
Ici, dans la version live releasée sur Money For Nothing.

***

A long time ago came a man on a track
Walking thirty miles with a sack on his back
And he put down his load where he thought it was the best
Made a home in the wilderness
Built a cabin and a winter store
And he ploughed up the ground by the cold lake shore
The other travelers came walking down the track
And they never went further, no, they never went back
Then came the churches then came the schools
Then came the lawyers then came the rules
Then came the trains and the trucks with their load
And the dirty old track was the telegraph road

Then came the mines and then came the ore
Then there was the hard times then there was a war
Telegraph sang a song about the world outside
Telegraph road got so deep and so wide
Like a rolling river …

And my radio says tonight it’s gonna freeze
People driving home from the factories
Six lanes of traffic
Three lanes moving slow …

I used to like to go to work but they shut it down
I got a right to go to work but there’s no work here to be found
Yes and they say we’re gonna have to pay what’s owed
We’re gonna have to reap from some seed that’s been sowed
And the birds up on the wires and the telegraph poles
They can always fly away from this rain and this cold
You can hear them singing out their telegraph code
All the way down the telegraph road

I’d sooner forget but I remember those nights
Yeah, life was just a bet on a race between the lights
You had your head on my shoulder you had your hand in my hair
Now you act a little colder like you don’t seem to care …
Well just believe in me baby and I’ll take you away
From out of this darkness and into the day
From these rivers of headlights these rivers of rain
From the anger that lives on the streets with these names
‘cos I’ve run every red light on memory lane
I’ve seen desperation explode into flames
And I don’t want to see it again …

From all of these signs saying ‘sorry but we’re closed’
All the way down the telegraph road

***

A cette époque, Dire straits, c’est

  • Mark Knopfler, Guitare & chant
  • John Illsley, Basse & chant
  • Hal Lindes, Guitare & chant
  • Alan Clark, Claviers
  • Terry Willians, Batterie
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If, Rudyard Kipling

Saturday, January 30th, 2010 | Author:

En parcourant quelques livres dans la bibliothèque aujourd’hui, ce feuillet s’est échappé de la biographie de Baden Powell, qui s’est inspiré de plusieurs écrits de Kipling, dont Le livre de la Jungle, et Kim, comme éléments fondateurs du scoutisme.
Je vous propose ici le texte original de ce poême, et la traduction réalisée par André Maurois en 1918 chantée par Bernard Lavilliers, en 1988, sur l’album If, et entendue … ce même jour à la radio.

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
‘ Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

Si tu peux voir détruit l’ouvrage de ta vie
Et sans dire un seul mot te mettre à rebâtir,
Ou perdre en un seul coup le gain de cent parties
Sans un geste et sans un soupir ;

Si tu peux être amant sans être fou d’amour,
Si tu peux être fort sans cesser d’être tendre,
Et, te sentant haï, sans haïr à ton tour,
Pourtant lutter et te défendre ;

Si tu peux supporter d’entendre tes paroles
Travesties par des gueux pour exciter des sots,
Et d’entendre mentir sur toi leurs bouches folles
Sans mentir toi-même d’un mot ;

Si tu peux rester digne en étant populaire,
Si tu peux rester peuple en conseillant les rois,
Et si tu peux aimer tous tes amis en frère,
Sans qu’aucun d’eux soit tout pour toi ;

Si tu sais méditer, observer et connaître,
Sans jamais devenir sceptique ou destructeur,
Rêver, mais sans laisser ton rêve être ton maître,
Penser sans n’être qu’un penseur ;

Si tu peux être dur sans jamais être en rage,
Si tu peux être brave et jamais imprudent,
Si tu sais être bon, si tu sais être sage,
Sans être moral ni pédant ;

Si tu peux rencontrer Triomphe après Défaite
Et recevoir ces deux menteurs d’un même front,
Si tu peux conserver ton courage et ta tête
Quand tous les autres les perdront,

Alors les Rois, les Dieux, la Chance et la Victoire
Seront à tous jamais tes esclaves soumis,
Et, ce qui vaut mieux que les Rois et la Gloire
Tu seras un homme, mon fils.

***

*ton songeur* C’est amusant de voir ici le nombre de traductions existantes de ce texte …

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Song of the day : Simon & Garfunkel – The boxer

Saturday, December 05th, 2009 | Author:

Album : Bridge over Troubled Water
Année : 1970 (original single release : 1969)
La version du concert à Central Park (1981) est probablement la plus inoubliable.

****

I am just a poor boy
Though my story’s seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocket full of mumbles such are promises
All lies and jests
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest

When I left my home and my family
I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station running scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know

Lie la lie …

Asking only workman’s wages
I come looking for a job
But I get no offers,
Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there

Lie la lie …

Then I’m laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was gone
Going home
Where the New York City winters aren’t bleeding me
Bleeding me, going home

In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of ev’ry glove that layed him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
“I am leaving, I am leaving”
But the fighter still remains

Lie la lie …

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Song of the Day : Dust brothers – This is your life

Wednesday, November 11th, 2009 | Author:

Durée : 3’32
Album : Fight club soundtrack
Année : 1999

***

And you open the door and you step inside
We’re inside our hearts
Now imagine your pain as a white ball of healing light
That’s right, your pain
The pain itself is a white ball of healing light
I don’t think so

This is your life, good to the last drop
Doesn’t get any better than this
This is your life and it’s ending one minute at a time

This isn’t a seminar, this isn’t a weekend retreat
Where you are now you can’t even imagine what the bottom will be like
Only after disaster can we be resurrected
It’s only after you’ve lost everything that you’re free to do anything
Nothing is static, everything is appaling, everything is falling apart

This is your life, this is your life, this is your life, this is your life
Doesn’t get any better than this
This is your life, this is your life, this is your life, this is your life
And it and it’s ending one-minute at a time

You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake
You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else
We are all part of the same compost heap
We are the all singing, all dancing, crap of the world

You are not your bank account
You are not the clothes you wear
You are not the contents of your wallet
You are not your bowel cancer
You are not your grande latte
You are not the car you drive
You are not your fucking khaki’s

You have to give up, you have to give up
You have to realize that someday you will die
Until you know that, you are useless

I say let me never be complete
I say may I never be content
I say deliver me from Swedish furniture
I say deliver me from clever arts
I say deliver me from clear skin and perfect teeth
I say you have to give up
I say evolve, and let the chips fall where they may

This is your life, this is your life, this is your life, this is your life
Doesn’t get any better than this
This is your life, this is your life, this is your life, this is your life
And it and it’s ending one-minute at a time

You have to give up, you have to give up
I want you to hit me as hard as you can
I want you to hit me as hard as you can

Welcome to Fight Club
If this is your first night, you have to fight

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Song of the Day : Bruce Springsteen – Streets of Philadelphia

Saturday, October 17th, 2009 | Author:

Durée : 3’15
Album : – (single released for the Streets of philadelphia movie) Academy and Grammy Award winning song
Année : 1994
* Bruce Springsteen – vocals, drums, guitar
* bass and background vocals from “Other Band” member Tommy Simms

***

I was bruised and battered and I couldnt tell
What I felt
I was unrecognizable to myself
I saw my reflection in a window I didnt know
My own face
Oh brother are you gonna leave me
Wastin´away
On the streets of philadelphia

I walked the avenue till my legs felt like stone
I heard the voices of friends vanished and gone
At night I could hear the blood in my veins
Black and whispering as the rain
On the streets of philadelphia

Aint no angel gonna greet me
Its just you and I my friend
My clothes dont fit me no more
I walked a thousand miles
Just to slip the skin

The night has fallen, Im lyinawake
I can feel myself fading away
So receive me brother with your faithless kiss
Or will we leave each other alone like this
On the streets of philadelphia

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Song of the day : Norman Greenbaum – Spirit in the sky

Wednesday, February 25th, 2009 | Author:

Durée : 3’57
Album : Spirit in the sky
Année : 1969
* Lead guitar : Russell DaShiell
* Bass : Doug Killmer
* Drums : Norman Mayall
* Guitar, vocals : Norman Greenbaum

***
“Spirit in the Sky” contains lyrics about the afterlife, making several references to Jesus. However, Greenbaum, who identifies himself as Jewish, stated that he had no particular religious intentions with the song.
Russell DaShiell explains how the spatial -beep beep- sound was created :
“I actually played the lead guitar parts on Spirit, using a 61-62 SG Les Paul, a 68 Marshall Plexi 100w half stack and a home-made overdrive box in front of the Marshall. Regarding the ‘beep beeps’ as I call them, when the producer asked me to play some fills in between the verses, as a joke I said how about something spacey like this and I did the pickup switch/string bending thing. I saw him stand up in the control booth and he said “that’s it! let’s record that!” so we did. (There was no slide involved, just my fingers, and I used the bridge humbucker and the pickup switch). The fuzz part is Norman with a built-in overdrive circuit built into his Tele pickguard.”
Source : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spirit_In_The_Sky
***

When I die and they lay me to rest
Gonna go to the place that’s the best
When I lay me down to die
Goin’ up to the spirit in the sky
Goin’ up to the spirit in the sky
That’s where I’m gonna go when I die
When I die and they lay me to rest
Gonna go to the place that’s the best

Prepare yourself you know it’s a must
Gotta have a friend in Jesus
So you know that when you die
He’s gonna recommend you
To the spirit in the sky
Gonna recommend you
To the spirit in the sky
That’s where you’re gonna go when you die
When you die and they lay you to rest
You’re gonna go to the place that’s the best

Never been a sinner I never sinned
I got a friend in Jesus
So you know that when I die
He’s gonna set me up with
The spirit in the sky
Oh set me up with the spirit in the sky
That’s where I’m gonna go when I die
When I die and they lay me to rest
I’m gonna go to the place that’s the best
Go to the place that’s the best

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