Using Ceramics Molds To Make

Anthem in January

We forget sometimes that is why we love so much music. A look at the reviews on music magazines, then, is depression, with little stars, grades one to centomilamilioni ... How can you give the vote to the emotion, the feeling? Oh now I'm in love with three stars, I would give my girlfriend a nice four. Bah. Ci dimentichiamo soprattutto di ascoltare veramente la musica in cui ci imbattiamo. Anzi, rifiutiamo di imbatterci, casualmente, come succedeva ai bei tempi delle radio, quando giravi il manopolone da un canale all'altro alla ricerca del "suono" poi ti bloccavi come se avessi avuto un infarto: eccola, la canzone che spacca, che spacca il mio cuore. Ogni tanto succede ancora. Bisogna imbattersi nella musica, così come ci si imbatte in un volto per la strada. Lasciarsi fissare da uno sguardo, perché solo nello sguardo di un altro siamo in grado di scorgere noi stessi. Le canzoni sono la stessa cosa, sono lo sguardo di un altro che ti fissa, per tre o quattro minuti. Che sia una canzone, un album intero, un concerto. Succede e mi rendo conto - con sollievo - di non essere il perfetto "music lover" perché altre volte, spesso, mi dimentico di ascoltare come dovrei, e cioè con il cuore. Anzi, il Cuore. E non con la testa e basta.

Stamattina ero in metro, mezzo addormentato, infreddolito, infastidito. Ed ecco una di quelle epifanie (eh, sì ho usato la parola epifania perché domani è l'Epifania, non la befana, come a Natale si festeggia Gesù Bambino e non Babbo Natale). Ieri sera avevo sparato sull'iPod il nuovo disco dei Decemberists e ascoltato già un paio di volte, in nottata. Lo aspettavo con ansia, sono una delle migliori new band degli ultimi anni. The Hazards of Love ad esempio disc is a beautiful, sort of concept album Anglo Saxon 70's folk and pop to the Beach Boys (the ones picked, not those of Surfin 'USA). And he, the frontman, Colin Meloy, a voice is crazy, splitting, E writes beautiful lyrics. So I listened and I was not stoked much of the new The King is Dead. Too "American," Neil Young Harvest too, echoes of The Band, in short stuff and felt resentful, we also put the Avett Brothers. But this morning my jaw dropped to the ankles, the coach of the yellow line stops Zara - Cordusio. Two songs that split the heart of your callous bastard here today. January Hymn, as perfect timing, since we are in January and if he the protagonist of the song goes to shovel the snow, I avoidance smog but the sentiment is common, of joyous acceptance. January Hymn can do it, can lead to joyful acceptance. Solo acoustic guitar strumming nicely, that voice that breaks and a nice chorus in the background.

And This Is Why We Fight , the song that Morrissey is no longer able to write since the Smiths broke up. Then his jaw was rolling down the escalators to the station Cordusio while I was trying to climb like a salmon against the current, ie the scale wrong. So can music. And the rest of the album? Tonight the riascolterò a dozen times, I must have missed something, certainly is a great disc. Not like The Hazards of Love but short. I listen to while waiting for a witch come to see me. Because I do not think the Epiphany, but I think the witch.

Boxing Bob Xl Freestanding

An Italian in New York

What can I do with this eternal desire?
(from a song by the group of North African Tinariwen)

I'm not envious. Obviously, yes I am. I'm envious because Riro did what I never did either, now I am sure I will ever. No longer a boy, in fact, with a family "behind" your back, work started, in fact already passed the middle of the journey of our life, he left everything and a bit 'as migrants who landed on Ellis Island at the beginning of the twentieth century, has arrived in New York Cty. The Big fuckin 'Apple. Obviously, I am envious, I always wanted to do it myself, I remember that I dreamed of and a companion sucola in high school, do it now just short of majority. I moved from my hometown of only 146 km (from slot to slot), he Riro, thousands of miles of NYC and went there, he created a work, which has the lead the whole family. of him I had already talked about here , because accidents, in addition to the discs also writes books, and beautiful. Yes it's official: I am envious.

And since he was already in Italy Riro Maniscalco was a music lover, he honed in New York even more his passion for music. Discs had already made several, this - my first review in 2011, and the last album that I listened again in 2010 - has deepened my approach to his music. Sketches of You is called, which is already a good title, which brings to mind a certain Sketches of Spain. Then that even his name is already a fine program: Maniscalco, the Carpenter, as the extraordinary song, If I Were A Carpenter. More or less. Sketches of You is a collection of "sketches" sound, or almost. There in a very remarkable taste for melody, emerging of the many plays that Riro has done in his life. It is sometimes reminded of the John Lennon solo altre tanti country singer dei più nobili. Ancora, certi pezzi mi fanno venir ein mente un gruppo che io amo moltissimo, i Great Swimmers Lake, abili autori di folk pop di classe. Chissà se Riro li ha ascoltati. E' un disco che negli anni 70 avrebbe avuto quotazione alta negli scaffali dei negozi e della critica che conta(va). Su tutte, metto la fascinosa I Wish, il brano che gode di maggiori interventi strumentali (opera del bravo Jonathan Fields) canzone che viene costruita su un crescendo incalzante di grande efficacia. E la prova vocale di Maniscalco è da antologia. Altre volte Riro si rifugia nella quiete di ambientazioni più intime, sussurrate, notturne. Si rifugia nelle corde tese di mandolino, dobro e banjo (Marco Zanzi, leggenda del bluegrass made in Italy) o nelle corde spesse di un violino, finanche una fisarmonica, per dar sfogo alla sua malinconia, di italian bluesman.

Ho messo a inizio di questo post una citazione dei Tinariwen, gruppo di tuareg "african rock" scoperti da Robert Plant. Perché quella frase, pronunciata da gente così lontana dall'immaginifico occidentale, dà il senso dell'unità di Cuore (che metto apposta con la C maiuscola) che alberga in tutti gli esserei umani. E'quello che fuoriesce dai testi delle canzoni di Riro. Testi che parlano, come intitola un pezzo del disco, di "signs (of an absence Presence), segni di una presenza assente. Come i Tinariwem come me che sto a Milano, come Riro che sta from Italian in New York, all we have in the Heart of a sengi absent presence, an eternal desire which can not do the math. In singing this, Riro smile ("Drop me a line send me a text message That is the way in 2010"), then I ((us) pulls in ("Pour me some wine, a shot ov cold vodka please, light up a cigarette for me ") and then says what is valid for all:" Tell me how nobody feels like the loving, the loving we're all longing for. "Already: How is this story that no one feels love, The love which we all aspire. "My need for love turns into heaven hell" says elsewhere, "Being Chased by a million ghosts." There is a cry that emerges clearly in the songs of Riro Maniscalco. It 's my cry, the cry of all: "And it's missing you, missing you, where are you now?". There is the sense of passing time: as a friend of mine always says, as the years go by and life becomes more difficult. How Riro says, "Time passes gently, and gently Takes vmy hand, tears dropping gently and you gently wipe Them All, hold my hand gently, and guide me through That Door." For when it comes to the end of the disc, that presence is no longer an absence. It 'a gentle hand to guide us in the running (hard, hard, bloody) the passing of time.


info, shopping etc:
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