Music of Les Gitans de Sarajevo harmoniously integrates outside influence into the various Balkan styles of music to create a “World” feeling. Songs filled with nostalgia explore conflicting feelings on such themes as exile, tragic outcome of seperation and above all celebration of Woman. Songs relate the pain of lost, inaccessible or impossible loves. LGDS add a whole new flavour to music from the Balkan and Eastern European music. Not only do they continue to play the seductive airs natural to gypsy music, but interpret it with a unique spirit that pushes the traditional into a modern context.
LGDS are based out of Montreal and they are releasing their 3rd album OPA! in November. You can preview the new album right here on this page. Enjoy!
You can order CD's from our website lesgitans.info
After you've finished here, you may like to hear this poem sung on myspace...
Poem 162 of 230, WalkaboutsVerse (please see my blog): TEES TO TYNE: FIRST IMPRESSIONS - SUMMER 2001
Where traditions are not so rare; Sea, country and works scent the air; A multitude of monuments, Planted tubs and patterned pavements.
The longish pedestrian malls; The remnants of defensive walls; Historic buildings are a gauge Of the respect for heritage.
Wheat, rape and pines in the fields; Estuaries guarded by shields; Long sandy beaches and wide scenes; Romantic-ruin go-betweens.
Rivers in parts licked by trees, Or fringed by boat clubs, wharfs, gantries, And crossed by practical delights - Varied spans, forming pleasing sights.
Fine churches headed at Durham; Football kits ad infinitum; Kept castles - one for study; Masonry behind masonry.
And, with moulding-works out that way, It’s somewhere for a longer stay..?
After you've finished here, you may like to hear this poem sung on myspace...
Poem 2 of 230, WalkaboutsVerse (please see my blog): WALKABOUT WITH MY PEN
Once drove an old sedan, up north, From a place in Sydney to Cairns; Then to Kuranda I went forth, By train, to look without set plans.
I browsed through the trendy market, With fresh fruits of tropical kind; Walked to the creek through lush thicket - Nature’s hand giving peace of mind.
I dined in a scenic cafe; Then, outside, as I wrote for yen, Some passing Kooris called-out: “Hey, You go walkabout with your pen.”
Request or question, I don’t know - Assured voices, elderly men. That’s now several years ago, And I’ve seen the world - with my pen.
Support your local deejay! "March Of The Sultans" is doing great at iTunes. If YOU like it, buy it and play it loud!
As heard on Studio Brussel and BBC radio one!
Buy here:
http://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewAlbum?i=315252447&id=315252443&s=143446
Thanks for your support!
MARCH OF THE SULTANS TOUR with gigs at Belgium's biggest festivals! Pukkelpop, Dour, Sfinks, Cactus, Tomorrowland, 10daysoff and more!
CIAO AMIGOSS, WELCOME TO “PALESTISRAEL CITY” AND KEEF THE RIDE… PEACE FOR KIDS BY BOOGIE BALAGAN
LAMENTATION WALLOO //LAMENTATION DE RIEN DU TOUT
When i was a boy//Quand j’étais un gosse I was dreaming of a land//Je revais d’un pays (terre) A Promised land for everyone//Une terre promise pour tout le monde When i was a kid//Quand j’étais gamin I was diggin n’ diggin//Je creusais creusais Across the border line//Le long de la frontière I was sawing the seeds of time//Je semai les semences du temps Sun flowers, avatiah...feeling fine//Tournesol, pastèque je me sentai bien
My homeboy Ali was my buddy//Mon pote Ali était de ma bande But he was playing by the other side...//Mais il jouait de l’autre côté
So we were climing up those mountains//Nous escaladions ces montagnes Flyin’ high as eagles do...//Nous volions aussi haut que les aigles N’ meanwhile//Alors que pendant ce temps heads were banging //Des têtes se fracassaient On the lamentation walloo//Sur le mur des lamentations de rien du tout
When i was a toy//Quand j’étais un jouet I was praying with the gun//Je priai avec un flingue I didn’t know how to read //Je ne savais pas lire between the lines//entre les lignes When i was a toy//Quand j’étais un jouet I was bleeding n’bleedin//Je saignais saignais It was a sign of spine//C’était la colonne vertébrale I was layin’ on my home grown sorrow//J’étais étendu sur la tristesse de mes terres A kind of bleeding graps of wine//Des grappes de raisins s’écoulaient de mon corps My homeboy Ali was my best enemy//Mon pote Ali était mon meilleur ennemi But he was burried by the other side...//Mais il était enterré de l’autre côté (Azriel : ps 9 the Walloo Book)
