Δαι μουσικές (daeman's tunes)
- Thread starter daeman
- Start date
Κελτάκια, ε;
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rCilaU3mmyo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5nVncRnah9g
αφτωποστάρωμαι ασιστόλος...
Τώρα που δεν ενοχλώ τους άλλους, μια εκπληκτική επίδειξη δεξιοτεχνίας του καλύτερου ροκ μπασίστα, τελεία, την οποία πρωτοάκουσα χτες το βράδυ. Εδώ που τα λέμε, την έχω ακούσει δεκάδες, αν όχι εκατοντάδες φορές, αλλά ποτέ έτσι μόνη της. Απομόνωσαν τον ήχο και την κάμερα τού Εντγουίστλ από εκείνη την ηχογράφηση και την προσφέρουν σαν πρόσθετη παροχή σε κάποιο DVD (ήχος από το 0':50"). Από κοντά, το ίδιο σε όλο του το μεγαλείο, παρότι το έχω ξαναποστάρει.
Play it loud.
Play it loud.
Costas
¥
Πω πω, πέθανε ο Captain Beefheart. Κλαίω πικρά...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQP9QjNjeR4&feature=player_embedded
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQP9QjNjeR4&feature=player_embedded
Όπως ανακοίνωσαν και για τον φίλο του τον Ζάπα πριν από 17 χρόνια: ο συνθέτης Don Van Vliet "αναχώρησε για την τελευταία του περιοδεία". Λυτρώθηκε κι αυτός από τη σκλήρυνση κατά πλάκες που τον ταλαιπωρούσε χρόνια τώρα. Ας χαιρόμαστε όσα μας χάρισε o πρωτοποριακός συνθέτης, η φωνή με τις πέντε οκτάβες, ο ζωγράφος, με τα έργα του και μέσω των επιρροών του σε άλλους, πολλούς και μεγάλους. So long, Captain.
Dropout Boogie
Upon the my oh my
Her Eyes Are a Blue Million Miles
Dropout Boogie
Upon the my oh my
Her Eyes Are a Blue Million Miles
Εγώ με τις ιδέες μου (Νικόλας Άσιμος) - Σωτηρία Λεονάρδου
Εγώ με τις ιδέες μου
κι εσείς με τα λεφτά σας,
νομίζω πως τα θέλετε μονά ζυγά δικά σας,
δε θέλω την κουβέντα σας
ούτε τη γνωριμιά σας.
Θα χτυπήσω εκεί που σας πονάει,
κανένα δε θα αφήσω εμένα να κερνάει.
θα με χρίσω ιππότη και τζεντάι
και άμα ξεμεθύσω
σας λέω και γκουντμπάι.
Και οι θεοί σαν πείθονται
εάν υπάρχει ανάγκα,
για πόλεμο δεν έκανα
ποτέ εγώ το μάγκα
και ούτε νεροπίστολο
δεν έχω στην παράγκα.
Θα τραβήξω το δρόμο μου όσο πάει
κανένα δε θα αφήσω
εμένα να κερνάει,
Θα απολύσω κι όποιον με περιγελάει,
χιλιάδες δυο αλήθειες
ο πόνος μου γεννάει.
Εγώ στα δίνω έτοιμα
κι εσύ τα θες δικά σου
λιγούρα που σε έδερνε
παρ' όλα τα λεφτά σου
και ούτε στο νυχάκι μου
δε φτάνει η αφεντιά σου.
Δε σε παίρνει εμένα να κοιτάξεις
χωρίς καμιά ουσία εσύ
θα τα τινάξεις.
Είσαι θύμα του νόμου και της τάξης
δεν ξέρεις καν το λόγο
για να με υποτάξεις.
Για την Έλσα.
Last edited:
Elsa
¥
Ω, ευχαριστώ πολύ! :)
(πιάσε κι ένα "Με το φόβο των μπάτσων" πάλι με τη Λεονάρδου, που είναι κι επίκαιρο! ;))
Κι αυτοί σάλπαραν με το Irish Rover. Το θυμήθηκα από κείνο το νήμα.
On the fourth of July eighteen hundred and six
We set sail from the sweet cove of Cork
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
For the grand city hall in New York
'Twas a wonderful craft, she was rigged fore-and-aft
And oh, how the wild winds drove her.
She'd got several blasts, she'd twenty-seven masts
And we called her the Irish Rover.
We had one million bales of the best Sligo rags
We had two million barrels of stones
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides,
We had four million barrels of bones.
We had five million hogs, we had six million dogs,
Seven million barrels of porter.
We had eight million bails of old nanny goats' tails,
In the hold of the Irish Rover.
There was awl Mickey Coote who played hard on his flute
When the ladies lined up for his set
He was tootin' with skill for each sparkling quadrille
Though the dancers were fluther'd and bet
With his sparse witty talk he was cock of the walk
As he rolled the dames under and over
They all knew at a glance when he took up his stance
And he sailed in the Irish Rover
There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee,
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Jimmy McGurk who was scarred stiff of work
And a man from Westmeath called Malone
There was Slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule
And fighting Bill Tracey from Dover
And your man Mick McCann from the banks of the Bann
Was the skipper of the Irish Rover
We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out
And the ship lost it's way in a fog.
And that whale of the crew was reduced down to two,
Just meself and the captain's old dog.
Then the ship struck a rock, oh Lord what a shock
The bulkhead was turned right over
Turned nine times around, and the poor dog was drowned
I'm the last of the Irish Rover
On the fourth of July eighteen hundred and six
We set sail from the sweet cove of Cork
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
For the grand city hall in New York
'Twas a wonderful craft, she was rigged fore-and-aft
And oh, how the wild winds drove her.
She'd got several blasts, she'd twenty-seven masts
And we called her the Irish Rover.
We had one million bales of the best Sligo rags
We had two million barrels of stones
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides,
We had four million barrels of bones.
We had five million hogs, we had six million dogs,
Seven million barrels of porter.
We had eight million bails of old nanny goats' tails,
In the hold of the Irish Rover.
There was awl Mickey Coote who played hard on his flute
When the ladies lined up for his set
He was tootin' with skill for each sparkling quadrille
Though the dancers were fluther'd and bet
With his sparse witty talk he was cock of the walk
As he rolled the dames under and over
They all knew at a glance when he took up his stance
And he sailed in the Irish Rover
There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee,
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Jimmy McGurk who was scarred stiff of work
And a man from Westmeath called Malone
There was Slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule
And fighting Bill Tracey from Dover
And your man Mick McCann from the banks of the Bann
Was the skipper of the Irish Rover
We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out
And the ship lost it's way in a fog.
And that whale of the crew was reduced down to two,
Just meself and the captain's old dog.
Then the ship struck a rock, oh Lord what a shock
The bulkhead was turned right over
Turned nine times around, and the poor dog was drowned
I'm the last of the Irish Rover