Reynaldo Gianecchini And Thais Arunjo 2011

long

(Big Black / Flaming Lips?, Electric Boys, Bohren under club of gore, Jim Collins, Swell Maps, Glaxo Babies, Sumo and some other ramblings)

Theirs is to win
If it kills
Them They're just Humans
wives and Children With
Flaming Lips-Race for the prize

I think I fucked your girlfriend eleven

Maybe twice, I do not remember

Then I fucked all your

friend's girlfriends

Now They hate you

Big Black, Bad Penny

Able to be studied psychology, whenever I get up (unless you're coming somewhere later), I have the habit of staying disciplined minutes trying to remember what I dreamed, to write on my computer. The result of that there are thirty-odd facet of descriptions of dreams that I keep as a black box of something that happened to me and probably forgot in the afternoon. Not long ago I came to the conclusion that if one does not remember the content of their dreams, no way to compare them with the real world, and therefore, not be this opposition, you really would be living in two worlds simultaneously. The reconstruction of Dreams has some of the constructions of nations in the fact that one tends to fill the gaps with myths and artificiality as befits the story, this, of course, unconsciously fact in the act of remembering-and more if you usually write, succumbing to the trend of decorating dreams with some things that may change.
dream There are several formats that are very suggestive, but one of my favorites are the dreams related to music. A few years ago I had a dream similar to that tells phibrizoq in this post , only instead of referring to Chan Marshall, I was in Tres Cruces with Fiona Apple and we took a TOC to his home in La Floresta (sic) where we used to see Requiem for an Empire, played by Harvey Keitel. This Saturday when I woke up in Mary's home, asleep with his arm (obvious and expected result of sleep two people in a single bed), I found myself busy indeed, but not like those awakenings post traumatic nightmares, but rather as if it had been running, or something. After spending a few minutes sitting on the edge of the bed, sleep comes to memory. BJ was talking to Alexander (one of the coordinators of bowling and vertebrae singer, who has a physical format Pirate King) and type reproached me that people who had brought my band was very rare, and that was frightening about European tourists who were eating there, yes, supposedly the bowling was also a restaurant. Indeed, the audience was a collection of gothic they were on the verge of bondage, and when I saw made me a slight bow with your head makeup. There is a blank space can not remember what happened, but after a slight change of story, I'm singing and playing guitar in a band whose members simply do not remember or know. In the dream I realize that I play very well, "something that is very far from happening in the real world, like a learned skill in another life. Finish a song, and tell the audience makeup, we do a cover. The song starts, and now recognize as Race for the prize, a song that exudes a pristine goodness in a Flaming Lips album of the park-like amusement in miniature, which takes as a dove, but without shame, a world that would not be very different from the one alternative that is presented in the video for the Chemical Brothers, The Golden Path (just with the participation of FL). It is an issue that more than one provider may not seem suitable for diabetics, but for me it's the embodiment of those beautiful utopia you thought as a child. The welfare state was tremendous, even to remember the time from the edge of the bed, my stomach classic jumble in the morning is supplanted by a feeling of quiet serenity. But this would be a dream, but outside that, after a bridge instrumental all of a sudden the band and I stepped to play Bad Penny, Big Black. Should be the first time in the history of virtual or written material referred to Flaming Lips and Big Black on one line. That is, try to find a strange case, but really those two bands together is a true oxymoron. Perhaps what connects them are the same opposition. The only thing in common is that they are two albums that I've been hearing a lot lately: the The Soft Bulletin and Songs about fucking.

disc Albini and Co. is the most perverse may have heard. Evil in the true sense of the word ie from actual psychoanalytic terms, that record may have written only one type of perverse structure. Albini says it all, and says it without mercy, as that part spoken Bad Penny I recite in sleep while all goths are scaring tourists waving white as milk: I think I fucked your girlfriend eleven / Maybe twice, I do not remember / Then I fucked all your / friend 's girlfriends / Now They hate you . It's a fucking verse within a song and a hard fucking even more screwed. This topic always seemed to me (whether that is earlier, but I heard later) version of radical and suppurating is Liar by Henry Rollins. Those songs that ooze poison and proclaim the same singer as the biggest scum that may exist on earth. With that win both items, but an even more fucked in the case of Albini, is what strikes deeper than that to be spoken in first person, as by decantation, leaving out any trace of guilt. Is evil in the flesh, not distilled, the drug never before imagined that kills in the first peak to the vein. Everything in the Big Black album sounds sick ulcerated tissue from love Thanatos My precious thing, the powerful malicious dimension of the female sex Pavement Saw. But the dream
follows, then, after finishing this grim medley, the song becomes the theme of the Flaming Lips and ends of the harmonious way it had begun. The way the issue of Big Black loose in a song appears as a tumor in a healthy body, yet still makes it look darker, like the scars on the bodies of the characters in Crash. But people clap and now there is not a European among the public.

I wanted to do

a topic to speak of yesterday

today is not

because today, my world broke

Electric Boys

zero-tolerance

a Saturday wake up at nine o'clock loses much of Saturday. Who is accustomed to waking up at about one, at so early to walk around the streets of Montevideo you feel that the day will hacérsele too long. When Pocitos way as early or as late-that is, at times where most sleep-I love to walk silently, trying to get my steps become increasingly deaf, like the ninja he saw on television as a kid . Nearly flat on tiptoe, I like to walk in the middle of the street, more and more silent. It is a feeling of wellbeing that could be defined as the pleasure of disappearing, becoming invisible to be a ghost in the city and cease to exist. That's when in the same corner of Solano Antunes Tomás Diago and I meet a former professor of mine who I admired a lot, and whose daughter went out and ended up behaving very badly over three years. I greet him with a slight nod, but the man greets me by my name and very cool question I have walked all this time. Middle uncomfortable, talk to him on the right above, on my last book and some other things in my family, wondering if the guy knows about the outcome of my relationship with her daughter, if known and forgave me, or if known and everything is a good deal as macabre as the medley of Bad Penny in Race for the price. Type I say goodbye on good terms, saying that one of these buy my book. Shook his hand, while low in the wadi, I asked, already half a block away, you scream where I can buy.
was going to my house, but then it occurs to me to turn around and hit me one pass through the fair (I know that if I get home, probably the only thing to do is see how the sun is ascending from the east to the zenith while looking for useless information on Wikipedia). The Villa Biarritz is fair, let ' a shit, a place where there is a continuity of stalls selling the same T-shirts and trousers for women, the same imitation Mormaii clothing for men, they kill and squared Torres García for tourists. The only thing salvageable from the show are two positions that are also in the show Tristan Narvaja, infinitely superior offer that I was going. A walk through the exhibition aims only two seats: Mezzanina and Helter Skelter Records , aka the post of Ernesto, the great archaeologist of vinyl that I find tremendously with bands garageras unknown, one Lydia Lunch almost impulse bought a sick fetishist, a Boys next door, and kick out the jams, no backing out, not yet sold and, for those interested, is about 800 pesos (as thirty-six U.S. dollars .) Not much luck lately in local Ernesto, I have certain dyes mystics to come from the United States a cousin with an incredible material that you prefer not anticipármelo. When you sell on Tristan Narvaja funny that always goes the same people, all with a somewhat nerdy and a little junky, a bearded Vellocets touch and is a fan of Rockabilly, a Madrid who looks exactly like David Lynch, only without the gray, and among a few others, I do listen to it on my IPod Ernesto new things that I've downloaded. But today he has nothing, and then I'll see what's in mezzanine, a place that does not usually have things very unusual, but every so often full of surprises (there once I got two discs Can). I speak a little peeling, reviewed the records, and the same material as always: Aerosmith, Pink Floyd, Yes, Iron Maiden, Nirvana, Soundgarden. I run into the American , Offspring and revised it for a moment. Rayon is the small pen in the bottom: Yes, it's my disc, the disc I decided to exchange it for another when he was seventeen. Just now I come to realize that five years ago that the guy has it and it made me an odd feeling. God knows that today there are few things that interest me unless Offspring, but my fetish with certain objects normally results in a very intimate relationship with them, and what it feels like meeting an old friend after five years and see what is in either, knowing that if one would have supported it might have caught a better way. Five years having passed through the fingers of thousands of people still there, along with many other albums despised by their former owners, in such hits as an orphanage that is plastic and paper. Looking
more albums, just behind one of Green Day, I epiphanic encounter with What Would the community think of Cat Power, and when I scream "Stop!", all potential buyers look at me, next to bare not understand my reaction. Disbursement and decide pay immediately the album, surprised at my luck, not just for the sake of finding the disk, but also have enough money on it. Continuing on my run, I find the underground Boys' Toy elective, and I decide to buy, just because I like it a little absurd price (200 pesos, less than ten dollars), and partly because of the historical value of the material. Unlike most people, I like the Toy Underground. True, no flight Psychosound , but it's a bum disc, so bum as was the band itself, as bum as the theme thirteen, where inexplicably repeats the entire disc. Ezekiel later me dispel the doubts, explaining the reason for this redundancy. Apparently, the discs take twenty minutes, and the label seemed too little Koala. The band said they would see what they did, and he was returned to the company a new copy of no less than forty-five minutes. Koala types naturally not listen to the album, and glad to see 45:09 number on your player, decided to launch it. One if you put the disc reaches the issue twelve, and thirteen starts all over again, all the way through on one track. This detail I think it speaks volumes about what guys were elective, one of the wildest bands and beaten (almost literally) of the strange underworld in which Uruguay became the rock of the nineties. But the pleasures offered by the disc does not stop there, going to my house and after listening to Cat Power, I put the disc, I start to lay down the book-sooo fulero, of course, but perhaps that was the idea and behind the clear plastic CD holder, I find loose, the following paper:

Apparently

free admission came with the disc. An entry that no one took advantage. I try to venture in that December 4, possibly in 1998, a day before my birthday, which was a cumplebaile that would be radically opposed to those boring nights of distortion on the grounds of good German Thomas, arguably one of the types universally loved and respected by those who've heard in my life. I think what would have been my life if I had used that post, and really care less if this is a false trail left by the former owner of the material or the same owners of the post, put it slowly into the bookshelf, I see from my bed and I feel being in front of a huge archaeological remains of value.

Now you can not eat and play

in my garden

i have to close the gate

for Might hurt you fear me

or Worse, I'd hurt myself

Jim Collins-Scorpio in Mars

After two listened to the album from Miss Chan Marshall and one of Barcia and co, I know I have to get to school. I will not be the first nor the last to complain to study in the summer. When I was in high school to study music felt very connected to lack of performance, slowly falling to the influence of the song and inevitably playing a standby battery with my pen. However, over time the need to fill the void with music became more dominant, and so fu me getting used to study at first more or less smooth bands, up to boring reading material to speak for Genetic Psychology Back piercing ears. I can even eat or sleep well with any type of music, which for most people unthinkable.
Yet these days the study I have found a rough work, just because I'm trying to read some Lacan seminars (which is quite dense even some teachers), and a bit since the summer pass Montevideo and not in Atlantis, I feel a little out of room. For this reason, my focus is much more frail than usual, so I have to limit the range of music I listen to while studying.
After trying several, I realize that the only thing that I can play with more or less well is not sung with music, especially jazz (everything looks better and more sophisticated if accompanied by a serene shade of jazz).
To not burn a few discs of the genre that I have in my house, I decided to get out some ambient music. I under some of Brian Eno, and one of Authecture , which recommended in elbailemoderno. Supposedly, the environment can not be measured with the same yardstick with which to measure the rest of the music is a listening that is more like that of psychoanalysis floating attention than a history that intentanta find the truth behind a verse or a sentence. At that point, the issue of ambient genre seems tailor-made for the study. Despite my good mood and my desire to give a chance to gender, I soon realized that the ambient embolism me deeply and perhaps more counterproductive resulting plunger ends for studying a disk of Bad Brains.
But a week later, on a day with very little creativity, I look between the disc one I gave Gustavo Antunes and had not given ball. I found it strange that despite its macabre name, Bohren und der Club of Gore , Gustavo told me it was "tranqui music, but very good." After a few months to have filed what I hear. It feels somewhat like a cello invade my room and I get to hear a sax slow but powerful moves like lava. One hopes the outbreak, but never comes. Jazz is a dark, dense and deep enough to dive and swim in a sea of \u200b\u200btar. It's daylight, but I feel as if suddenly the moon eclipsed the sun, and was in deep gloom, supplanting the heat for a cool breeze and sea-scented smoke snuff and whiskey. At first I think that music is a cinematic landscape for any film noir has been made. Of this there is no doubt: the sax creeping, silences, brushes drums, piano calm, intuitive, my room seems to lose color and become black and white, and almost feels imminent arrival of a femme fatale with a feather boa on the neck on my doorstep. But then I discover something more. The band's name is not used in vain: it feels like the music of film noir, but it is even darker, with a different texture. It is here that David Lynch nobre jumps on stage, and I realize that it is inconceivable that any of those songs was included in Twin Peaks, when he appeared on stage as the beautiful Audrey Horne (a sort of femme fatale and virginal teen ), Lost Highway, in the dark and aseptic Bill Pullman apartment, or even the U.S. megaclip is Industrial Symphony n.1. Especially in the latter material, the similarities between the German band and the music of Angelo Badalamenti is more than noticeable. As I listened to the album I feel that my movements are slow, full of suspicion, as if the whole room was full of string and bowls with which to stumble, as Oliveira's room in chapter 56 of Rayuela. I turn to wikipedia and try to get information from the band, and is something that is surprising, but that is understandable in the product sound the same: the band has a history intertwined with the Doom Metal. Indeed, there is something in the dark atmospheres and harmonies, as well as the slow pace, which can not create anything but that, even the term doomjazz seems extremely attractive to define the style of the band. The album ends and the moon again to hide behind the horizon, the sun burning my legs.

Strangely, the very next day I drive under a random- Mutant Sounds fetish page you downloaded weekly brunomilan multiple disks and I, and I find such a Jim Collins, which NOBODY knows nothing, not even the same type responsible for the page, which is like the oracle of Delphi in regard to unknown discs (the disc you can download it here ). It's an album in 2000, and the cover promises something rather dark and quiet. The music justifies the cover, is a darkest folk that seems to have been recorded at the bottom of a well located in the garden of a tapeada home of one of those ghost towns that border the U.S. interstate. It's so dark and gloomy as that elusive thing that touch your leg in a stream, listening to the voice of the kind, monotone, in a sort of psych folk where some guitars with fuzz and wah wahs come and go like the song of some birds that cross the sky, far, far away, because one can only be viewed from the bottom of the pit, that hole in the sky that filter a few drops of light. I imagine a night walk through a forest untouched Biarritz spa, listening to the voice and guitar of Jim Collins in my headphones as a message from beyond. I promise to do someday, but that experience, I do not know if you live to tell it.

Silver moon is always writing

Like the waves write on the sea

Silver moon is always laughing

When Should she really cry

Silver moon is like a window

Like Adoor Into the sky!

Silver High-Mula

is night, and the computer I had to take a break. Three days and a half without turning it off, I imagine sweaty and tiresome, as the horses that pull carts in the summer. Choose an album to fall asleep is an event. Moreover, the fact go to bed is an event. In recent years I lie down to sleep, I usually fall asleep. Thus, I woke up in every way possible, sitting in a swivel chair, on the laptop, with the word with a fifteen-page ñññññññññññññññññññ, or half of the body in a chair, and the other on the bed, opening eyes and my meeting with the frightening image of Santolalla, in a Rolling Stone cover of a limp I used as a pillow.
The choice of the disk is connected to a post last Dagnasty , who introduced me to a post punk band called Glaxo Babies. Recently coming off a good run Post Punk, listening to several albums Bristol scene, including the dazzling notif And The Pop Group, This Heat on the other hand, with that great record is Deceit, ahead of all and recorded, nothing more and nothing less than a former refrigerator, and one of Swell Maps, a great band, which is unique in its crudeness interpretive turn in the same action for sonic experimentation and soundscapes. So, you listen to Sonic Youth and beyond the issue of alternate tunings, you know that Moore and Ranaldo are good guitarists. In the case of the Swell Maps Nikki Sudden and co, their music and interludes create a kind of proto-post-punk in the prevailing spirit of impudence and guerrilla Amateur first punk scene, but making sound collages that many bands would just a few years after taking the post of kraut and other genres. As the detuning of Sonic Youth is a resource, Swell Maps is a way of life.
But back to the Glaxo Babies (the band name comes from a gruesome mutations suffered by some British babies after their mothers consumed a drug called Glaxo during pregnancy), being a band already very good, one of the most interesting, as Dagnasty says, is the parallel with a band better known and close to a time not later: High. In his fotolog, gives the example of the song Flesh versus Five gorgeous, but I find a resemblance especially better not talk about certain things , especially the bass line at the beginning of the song and the entry of a saxophone is actually a replica to that of the British. Courtesy, I leave the two topics to compare themselves.

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If you are interested download full, best sound quality, the disc of Glaxo Babies, here I leave download link, via tastes like rock and roll .
not be the first time that High puts hand in another material, from the same album name Divided by happiness, even a few letters, of which I remember this post Benito in fuckyoutiger. This led me to hear a review of the material of Sumo, and very different mood that I had moved butcher at first unusually generated a new appreciation for the band. High was one of those bands that prefer the myth to the real story. Once a friend, referring to Illustrious Corpses, told me that the band had to locate all copies of their discography and burn them to live their myth. Illustrious Corpse heard nothing, so I refrain from comment, but rescued the comment, because it is very similar to what he thought of Sumo. Luca Prodan is a passionate man with a history of life much more exciting that I imagine (looks very good the Babylonian Espina Rodrigo documentary), but at some point, I always chalked that he, along with Los Redonditos Ricotta, contains the germ of many of the things I hate the Argentine and Uruguayan rock these days. The shirts rock is very hard to imagine without the Indian Luca Solari, and this is reason enough to put the odd objection to the mythical image of the two peeled, no matter how we do shit with laughter at some supplement the Pity TN news. But unlike anything that usually refers to the Supreme, I bow with the band for the music, something that did not pay attention long.

I bought the Sumo: Obras Cumbres a summer in Punta del Este, a summer suffered enough because it would be one of the first to pass away from the woman who at that time was becoming my girlfriend. All topics Mula especially Silver and not finish reminds me of my melancholy little bar in a trap (the only one among all clubs in a big budget) requeches fact remained on the edge of the stream of Barra. The bar owner was a seasoned veteran who had much of the eighties, and became more of all issues Tosh, Marley and reggae tracks Prodan and co. I remember laying on a hammock, with a kaipiroska, feeling miserable while listening beautifully You'd better get up brother, up brother, / Up brother yeah! / Do you go too far! , as he watched on the other side of the creek were armed hecatombs binational in a bath of broken bottles, dirt and blood stained shirts poles (I admit that perhaps I exaggerate). But back to Sumo itself can be considered more than a great Prodan in terms of gender Marcopolo introduced to Argentina. The close relationship that existed between punk and reggae (a fact that most of the official history of rock often overlooked), as well as the prominence of low post-punk movement, usually things is usually awarded to Luca main introducer. In fact, it could be a High as the first reggae band, and perhaps post punk from Argentina. But beyond that, "after all, is nothing nothing more than labels, "Sumo has a plus compared to many bands of the era that make it beyond a mere generation. Topics such as Silver Mula are light years ahead of anything that has made the river reggae silver, containing psychedelic perhaps the true representatives are Spinetta, Manal, and others that were already making the best lyrics the area, but within the genre bring out a face as most of the bands farting ska reggae or forgot, or were simply unable to come to light, preferring to messages of peace or love or verses and dazzling "Beware of the cane going 'pre' . " Even Morning in the supply beyond its lyrical simplicity, has some images and soundscapes that inexplicably become pervasive throughout post holiday morning walk through any city that still has not woken up, when they are out to porters with their hoses descoronar day. And also, the guitar solo disgustingly distorted Better not talk about certain things have an essence treacherous, so screwed, that enchase as few solos I've heard in rock history River Plate (perhaps only after any of the topics Days blues). And the list goes on, with no song both as good as it needs to be The blonde was calibrated up Shut up Mark that based on fuzz, and reverb flangers thundering in my opinion is more gothic things I've heard in these latitudes. Over there you say that all this has already been invented, but if we so complicated we have to rock in this hemisphere.
But the real change of mind before falling asleep was when I entered "not anything else," therefore no one theme to emerge in the post-mortem collection is Fever. This is a very austere sound accusing obviously a b-side of what could be an issue, but the same aesthetic focuses stripped the beauty of the subject and I could imagine Game of pricks, or any issue of GBV in a super production process. The guitar, a battery that seems to have been recorded in a submarine, the confessional voice, slow and Luca, I do not know if it's night sleep, the open bed, or the night that sneaks through the window and made to sleep on the floor, but that issue seems to BUILT all the pieces on a Saturday, very, very long. And sleep listening do not know When It's time to change / It comes the change right now / I can feel it vibrating-through the ground / Baby, here by me, baby, baby / Climb out off the sea / You 're a wet fish / fish come Wet / Wet fish go / Wet fish come / And wet fish go, thinking that once would have touched that subject to some unknown person on a night like this. Boomp3.com