I don't like what I wrote before about the music I like... so I'm changing it... We're all kinda subconsciously influenced by all music but heres a list of things I like off the top of my head... the Beatles, David Bowie, Pink Floyd, King Crimson, Led Zeppelin, Fionn Regan, Thomas Dybdahl, 13th Floor Elevators, Soft Machine, Petrushka, Ian M Hale, Steely Dan, Nexus, Supergrass, Syd Barret, ROLF HARRIS, Smoke Feathers, *brains implodes*
I like melodic prog rock and psychedelia... I wish these two songs were written about me:
Letter To Hermione - DAVID BOWIE
Moonchild - KING CRIMSON
I can break down into tears at night listening to those songs... they are truely beautiful...
Sounds Like
Record Label
i bought a pack of sticky labels.... that'lll do..
...SIMPLY... I was concieved in a hospital store room and brought up listening to David Bowie, Bob Marley and Bob Dylan... I got my first guitar when I was 7, though my mother reckons I was 5, and started playing open mic nights when I was 8... I continued to do so untill I turned 16 and went to Brit School whereapon I met a crazy drummer and a ginger guy... I wrote some tunes, brought them forward to the "band" and we called ourselves Retrospect... I neglected my solo music and personal progression which is why I'm here!
...Stoolpigeon said this:
Charlene Soraia tells me there’s a lunar eclipse next weekend. I ask her where.
“In the sky, silly,” she says as she steals one of my crisps. “I wrote a lullaby about it last night. I made up a new word, too: ‘moonwink’. I swear I’m obsessed with the moon.”
That’s Charlene: a lunatic in the literal sense of the word; a space cadet in the figurative sense; and a musician from the moment she first snuck her father’s guitar from behind the sofa, laid the neck over her legs and started picking away at the strings until they snapped. “My dad would ask if I’d been playing with his guitar and I always said, ‘No, it was the cat, I saw her do it with her claws.’ I recently admitted that was a lie.”
Charlene got given her own guitar when she was five, played her first open mic night when she was eight and was a regular on the circuit by the time she was 10. She was 14 - and a convert to the transforming powers of psychedelic drugs - when she wrote ‘Stars Shoot By’, the song, she says, that turned her from a passable pop singer into a proper songwriter. In 2006 she released the ‘Lemonade’ EP, which in its contrasting shades of light and dark set the stage for two very different Charlene Soraias: the girl who likes to pick flowers and run through fields in frilly dresses, and the one who wants to float through the blackest fathoms of space watching planets being born.
“There are two sides to my music,” she says. “There’s the folky, idyllic side that comes out in songs like ‘Daffodils’ and ‘Lemonade’, and there’s the cosmic night time side, songs like ‘Jupiter’ and ‘Postcards From iO’. Although I actually thought Jupiter was the one with rings around it until recently. I also thought Io was the moon made of ice, but apparently that’s Ganymede. I guess ‘Io’ just sounds more like ‘ice’. ‘Ganymede’ sounds like a venereal disease.”
Patrick Moore will sleep easy tonight. Mariah Carey, however, may lie less peacefully on the perfumed pile of money she calls a bed, for the preening diva of dog-bothering octaves has a young contender hot on her heels, and Charlene has a secret weapon when it comes to hitting the high notes.
“I’ve got a little man with a needle who lives in my pocket, and there’s a tiny piano tattooed on my leg. Whenever I want to hit a high note I just give him a prod and he pinpricks the right one. It works every time.”
She also knows where to obtain excellent shrooms. The two facts may be related.
...Someone nice said this about a show off the Stephen Fretwell tour:
The South Londoner Brit School graduate Charlene Soraia who takes to the stage sings ... straddled with guitar and an impressive repertoire; jazz leanings and beautiful runs, rich flurries with reverb. Her voice breaks with meaning, cracks with purity, squeaks with pleasure, as fingers dance across fret like fireflies across an electrical lake. Humour runs amok (and laughter is permitted) on "Does She Fake Her Cum Face?" the sweet delight of a public display of revenge.
My Dear CharleneSoraia.com, I want you to know that your music and your songs are my passion. I am addicted. There is something that pulls me towards them. Keep it up CharleneSoraia.com. Jane PS:Follow Me Twitter at http://twitter.com/iaent
Ha....you mean that turd encrusted sofa bed!...class... We all heard,saw, ate, smelt a lot of things from that sofa...the best of times. You wont go wrong with Uncle Paul.xx
Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow- You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand- How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep- while I weep! O God! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
Sooooo... I got the tattoo...i believe the 'Wedding' offer still stands?
Lewi (Lui hehe) and I went to my brother's wedding the other weekend and got into a discussion as to what our first dance will be... Bike won't be the same without you playing us into our first dance... yes yes yes?
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