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The Music Thread

Just as Mazzy Star was formulated mostly from the members of other bands the various members played with, so too with Kristin Hersh, who had a history with Throwing Muses before writing songs for herself. This one is a similiar style to Mazzy Star with very simple minor chords for the shoe-gazing and slow tempo. Michael Stipe is adding his own instantly recognizable and inimitable style, but he still stands no chance of stealing the limelight from Hersh, whose vocal style and intensity is kind of disarming.

But it's been Mazzy Star all weekend up here. I can't not listen to more no matter which single track I pick, I let it roll until I'm suicidal enough to start chewing the razor blades and washing them down with tall Bellini's. As mood music goes, I often wonder if the ladies have an edge over the gents.

 
More Stipe in the background, this time with Placebo. A criminally under-rated band whose records have a habit of never growing old even if your mood for them is rare. This one's another of those minor chord moody tracks that doesn't make much sense until you find your self hating someone for fucking you over and it's playing in the background, in which case he's singing for you. Brian Molko is an excellent lyricist, I rate him highly and am happy Placebo aren't all over the telly and radio - usually a death sentence for the band/composer(s).

They've handled their career amazingly well, never selling out or letting ticket agents and agents screw the fans over either.

It's an album track, so no official video.

 

Depeche Mode's outdoor concert at Kaisanieminpuisto scheduled for today has been cancelled due to the strong winds blowing gusts from every direction. Loads of angry people who bought their tickets last year are being asked to return their tickets for reimbursement with no additional dates added as of yet.

The anger is about the production team not changing venues to from the people's park to Hartwall Arena, an indoor ice hockey stadium usually chosen by the bigger bands who like to stretch the limits of acceptable volume. Twenty thousand tickets are now useless and have to be returned. Many locals think they should have either gone ahead with the date tonight or else re-schedule to another date.

They are a rather loud band who rely on volume to reach the back of the stadiums at outdoor gigs. Then there's the light show: it's pointless even hanging the lights at this time of year - it's still bright around midnight, there's fuck all to see bar the smoke bombs and pyrotechnics. I don't know why they bother. The storms are fairly heavy though, but I wouldn't be surprised if they shifted direction over the next few hours. Which is only going to piss people off even more.

We get hit by these power cells every once in a while. Last serious one for me was the summer of 2009. One minute we're sitting at the table on the balcony having dinner, and two minutes later I'm trying to pull the door closed but can't due to the air pressure heaving in and out of my windows. A mini-tornado then hit, right into the courtyard below, stripping the trees of leaves and week branches. Sending garden furniture flying through the air and thoroughly soaking the neighbourhood for miles around. Then, just as quickly as it arrived, it vanished and the birds started to sing again. My balcony was destroyed, tables upturned, food all over the floor, broken glasses and so on. They arrive out of nowhere and batter everything in their paths.

Like this one filmed over Heitalahti:

 
Sinead's funeral has taken place. A massive turn-out along Bray promenade and up onto the head as her hearse filed past her old home of fifteen years. I'd assume the private funeral will include a cremation instead of a grave, but she may have wanted to lay down next to her mother, who knows?

Here's a track she experimented with and did a sweet job of too. It also features Ireland's finest, Stevie Wickham on his violin for the 'Drowsy Maggie' reference across the outro. Stevie was everyone's baby: after first forming and then quitting In Tua Nua, he'd already built himself a reputation for electric fiddle playing.



He was in one local band in Ballyfermot with his old pal Hughie Purcell, RIP. I used to go along to hear their rehearsal sessions in the local girl's school during the week at evening time. The big hall had an amazing reverb that made his electrified old violin sound like God crying; a beautiful player. Later we were neighbours in Portobello and he often called in to jam with us in the living room of a tiny house we rented. Later again he invited me for the auditions for The Waterboys, whom he joined after meeting Mike Scott. They had a hard time dealing with the suicide of their regular drummer, Kevin Wilkinson (RIP) and the auditions were a horror show of bad moods, anger, members hating each other, and poor little old Mowl in the middle of it all for a weekend out in Dun Laoire's 'Top Hat' venue where they set up out on the floor, not on the stage. This way they/we could all see each other. But two members turned their stools to face their amps because they couldn't even look at each other without everything grinding to a halt. After the second day I was bollocksed and didn't see the point in finishing the weekender - these guys needed time out, not an upcoming album recording and subsequent tour. They'd have killed each other. The following album, 'Fisherman's Blues' was a country themed album very different to anything they did before and I have to admit that playing two-step country rhythms for minor chord tunes was a load of pretentious shite. 'A Bang On The Ear' and the title track were horrible to my ears, and when the Grafton Street buskers got a hold of it it was even more annoying.

This one was great fun to play, but it's also one of Kevin's last sessions with the band and they decided to use his tracked drums for the album version. Simple chords, angry lyrics, a big stadium sound, and battering drum-fills made this one Kevin's - and Stevie's:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vu65eMTuqsQ

Anyway: so long to Sinead O'Connor - she'll go down in the history books and her light will continue to shine across the next generations. Like her music or loathe it, it's still what it is: a massive collection of on-point genius level arrangements and searing vocal abilities. And if thicko Val's reading: it's not 'The Emperor Has No Clothes' you thick cunt. It's 'The Emperor's New Clothes' as in that little story we were told as children to teach us about honesty and being yourself. In school. You probably didn't go to school though, right? Home-schooled by your aul fella, he taught you how to be a big mad thick cunt just like himself, you sad old tart.
 
The effect of her ripping up a picture of the pope on US network TV had ... it was like sunshine breaking through to me. 'Fight the real enemy'.

And seeing the horror among the hoi-polloi in the media in the days after. The pearl and twinset mob in a rage. Just that moment alone. Loved that girl.

Such a strange mix of strength and fragility. Like a sort of Irish Edith Piaf. A fighter, injured.
 
Do you guys have any male role models? 🤔

Collett/Woods/Morgon - your role models.

Mine?

Me, myself, and I.

The effect of her ripping up a picture of the pope on US network TV had ... it was like sunshine breaking through to me. 'Fight the real enemy'.

Grossly misunderstood at the time, there was a larger percentage of people who had no idea what she was doing that night with the pope's photo. They thought it was a publicity stunt - which it was in a way: a snowball atop a large hill was set in motion and one by one the house of cards fell down around the church in Ireland.

Of the kids I knew who were either raped and abused or even just raped, the floodgates started to open, the church tried to pull the ladders up into the towers, but the weight of the accusations was far too much to contain and so began the crumbling edifice of the Roman Catholic Church in Ireland.

The same church who refused to allow me to leave their ranks (which generated their tax-free status) even though I stood against one of their priests in both the police stations and local clinics. He's still behind bars, and I'm still listed as a member of the church I despise with all my heart and soul.

And seeing the horror among the hoi-polloi in the media in the days after. The pearl and twinset mob in a rage. Just that moment alone. Loved that girl.

Such a strange mix of strength and fragility. Like a sort of Irish Edith Piaf. A fighter, injured.

Yeps - just like Edith: a small and self-contained unit of fire and brimstone - except not directed at the flock, but rather at the top level liars in the church itself. These goons were professional stone-wallers. I say were with relish. Because the crack that Sinead made in their crack'd looking glass was ripped wide open by another younger generation right behind her pulling up the rear.

I like that the huge Eire marker on the top of Bray Head had her name added.

A positive sight for all those attending yesterday's celebration of her life and work. And that's what it was, it wasn't some twee pseudo-political event for ministers to stand up and say their bit:

'She was a fine young filly, with plenty of meat on the thighs and a great wan for the GAA and rugby. She rented out a space on her forehead to advertise Guinness and homemade Irish stew. And then she threw the money at anyone she met who was in a worse state than she was herself. A great lassie, aye-aye - and the people of Ireland loved her dearly. So much so we had to do all we could to lambast her in life and feel sad for her passing. Because now we've nobody to level the blame on. But still, a great turn-out on the day and lots of ice cream cones sold to the kids'.

Do you have anything to say for yourself that is not repeating some online right wing influencer, like here you are bleating Jordan Peterson?

Wasting your time talking to that spare. Best to leave him fester in his own piss, he's only here to annoy people. The rest of the time? You can find him on telegram, sending love-letters to his triumvirate of twats: Collect/Woods/Moshpit.

A sad and lonely little boy who tossed his spaghetti and pooped his pants.

No wonder he hates himself.
 
Yes, a good image, thanks Lumpy Von Talbot Lumpy Von Talbot


Do you have anything to say for yourself that is not repeating some online right wing influencer, like here you are bleating Jordan Peterson?
lol Jordan Peterson never occurred to me, and what have I told you (many times) about caricaturing?

And that's really what you need me to be.. someone you (think you) understand because the fake news media has told you allll about them..
 
Jambo likes: Susanna Hoffs and The Bangles, Liam Gallagher's boxer shorts, and George Michael.

It's not so much that he's out of the closet - it's that the closet doesn't like him either.

He's one of life's eternal losers.
 
Jambo likes: Susanna Hoffs and The Bangles, Liam Gallagher's boxer shorts, and George Michael.

It's not so much that he's out of the closet - it's that the closet doesn't like him either.

He's one of life's eternal losers.
Actually I've only posted songs by (the pop duo) Wham!

And I think they've stood the test of time. Of course it was inevitable that George Michael would launch a (hugely successful) solo career and here it is.. Ladies and gentleman, I give to you.. George Michael! -



The organ sound at the beginning will be instantly recognisable to men (and women) of a certain age (David is probably a bit too young), in fact they'll hear the lyrics in their head, I even posted it before, watch -

Post in thread 'The Music Thread' https://islepoli.com/threads/the-music-thread.5/post-1492

The organ is such a beautiful sounding instrument though, isn't it? Although that said, with your past and its association with Catholicism it probably gives you the jitter bugs.
 
Robbie Robertson, leader of The Band, died today at 80 (link). Over the years he became a favorite of mine. His music, including The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down, and The Weight, movie soundtrack Easy Rider, provided many good times and moments of listening pleasure. Once We Were Brothers, a movie about The Band, was the last movie I saw before Covid Lockdown, in New City, New York.

I will miss him.
 
Robbie Robertson, RIP.

If you haven't seen it, here's the full documentary called 'One World, One Voice' from 1990 where Kevin Godly and Rupert Hine set out around the world recording hundreds of musicians and composers in an attempt to highlight the damage we're doing to our planet. It came right out of the blue for me - switched on the telly one night and it knocked me for six.

The sections recorded in Ireland are wonderful, but trying to fuse so many cultures and styles together must have an endless headache for the production team. Back then we had very basic computer-based recording using early versions of Cubase to knit sections together rather than having to physically cut the 2" tape with blades and insert them in the correct places. In many ways, it's the modern digital option being experimented with live and on a vast scale. Quite impressive how they pulled all the parts together to create a symphony of this depth and variation.

The first half is the documentary around the making of the music, and the second half is the actual symphony (for want of a better word) which begins with Robbie Robertson quoting tribal elders of the Native American tribes warning s about our lax and lazy attitude to respecting nature and the very planet we inhabit.

I've time-stamped this video to the beginning of the symphony itself, if you'd like to see how this was actually made, then starting from the beginning you can see the entire production and every stage of recording the various players. It's a wonderful way to spend an hour of your evening.

 
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