Hugh MacDiarmid, Stevie Smith, Philip Larkin, Robert Frost, Robert Graves, RS Thomas, Andrew Young.
Hayao Miyazaki, Michael Haneke.
'Pillows & Prayers', Johnny Marr, Ivor Cutler, Jake Thackray, Neil Hannon, Lou Reed, Ennio Morricone, Leonard Cohen, Robert Wyatt, Brian Wilson, Sufjan Stevens, Hank Williams Sr., Matt McGinn.
Sounds Like
Naive, Lo-fi, acoustic songs of love, loss and regret.
Outsider Music.
'Pillows & Prayers', Marine Girls, Malcolm Middleton, Field Mice, Iron And Wine, él Records, Belle & Sebastian, The Lilac Time, Jim O'Rourke.
Sighrens started as a musical project conceived by two long-time friends. We wanted to try to express the feelings and ideas associated with loss, regret, loneliness, times lost and regained, childhood memories, failed dreams and new hopes.
Hello again Sighrens. We’ve recorded a Christmas song for free download. You can hear and download it directly from MySpace, but for a high bit-rate, near CD quality download, go to http://www.templecloudcountryclub.co.uk/xmas2009
Thanks for posting the "15 songs I was I'd written" post. It started me thinking on my own list.
One thing that I thought was funny while reading your list, is that while you cite lyrics in every song, my own tentative list was composed of mainly heart-felt chord-changes. hehehe. Lyrics always add the final layer of gloss to a great song, but I've always had a "listening impediment" and somehow heard all lyrics with indifference. I tend to hear structure, melody, chords, emotion and lyrics in a blur.
But I really did like the way you analyzed the economy of lyrics such as "please, please, please"
I am travelling to London today (for work) and will be there until Dec 9. If by chance you are in the neighborhood, let's do meet up for a pint. Otherwise, I will definitely make it to Scotland for my first Annen-Berg-themed trip to the Isles.
Cheers,
Scott
PS - will be at London Irish v Worcester Warriors (Rugby) on Saturday and Fulham v Sunderland on Sunday :D
Hi Griff, Thanks for the comment, it was good to hear from you again. I'm glad you like 'Gravity'. 'My Heart Is an Uncertain Compass' is a really excellent song. I don't suppose you would like to do a gig together in early February, would you?
wow!!!!you know we don't feel the xmas feeling untill you come by and visit us!!hehe!!we will put up a new song this week (i'm sorry you always have to hear the same ones!)if you give me your address i would love to send you the new edition we have made this year (with anoughter musicien called"el petit de cal eril")!!Merry Xmas!!!
We certainly did! And will continue to, I hope. Apart from the music, that's the thing I find most lacking from Facebook - good for interacting with people I already know but virtually no opportunity to meet someone new. Still, as long as others are still here I will be too! Maybe we should just think of it as a much more exclusive place to be now? :-)
Hi, thanks for your feedback. I'd like the vocals (and the bass, obviously ;-)) to be a little more prominent too, but unfortunately we could not afford to get the tracks mastered. Hopefully that will happen soon enough. Thanks again for taking the time to listen to us. Erika
Alabanza. Praise the busboy's music, the chime-chime of his dishes and silverware in the tub. Alabanza. Praise the dish-dog, the dishwasher who worked that morning because another dishwasher could not stop coughing, or because he needed overtime to pile the sacks of rice and beans for a family floating away on some Caribbean island plagued by frogs.
Alabanza. Praise the waitress who heard the radio in the kitchen and sang to herself about a man gone. Alabanza.
After the thunder wilder than thunder, after the shudder deep in the glass of the great windows, after the radio stopped singing like a tree full of terrified frogs, after night burst the dam of day and flooded the kitchen, for a time the stoves glowed in darkness like the lighthouse in Fajardo, like a cook's soul. Soul I say, even if the dead cannot tell us about the bristles of God's beard because God has no face, soul I say, to name the smoke-beings flung in constellations across the night sky of this city and cities to come. Alabanza I say, even if God has no face.
Alabanza. When the war began, from Manhattan and Kabul two constellations of smoke rose and drifted to each other, mingling in icy air, and one said with an Afghan tongue: Teach me to dance. We have no music here. And the other said with a Spanish tongue: I will teach you. Music is all we have.
Thought you might like this. It's long, so I have to post in two parts.
Alabanza: In Praise of Local 100 poem by Martín Espada
for the 43 members of Hotel Employees and Restaurant Employees Local 100, working at the Windows on the World restaurant, who lost their lives in the attack on the World Trade Center
Alabanza. Praise the cook with a shaven head and a tattoo on his shoulder that said Oye, a blue-eyed Puerto Rican with people from Fajardo, the harbor of pirates centuries ago. Praise the lighthouse in Fajardo, candle glimmering white to worship the dark saint of the sea. Alabanza. Praise the cook's yellow Pirates cap worn in the name of Roberto Clemente, his plane that flamed into the ocean loaded with cans for Nicaragua, for all the mouths chewing the ash of earthquakes. Alabanza. Praise the kitchen radio, dial clicked even before the dial on the oven, so that music and Spanish rose before bread. Praise the bread. Alabanza.
Praise Manhattan from a hundred and seven flights up, like Atlantis glimpsed through the windows of an ancient aquarium. Praise the great windows where immigrants from the kitchen could squint and almost see their world, hear the chant of nations: Ecuador, México, Republica Dominicana, Haiti, Yemen, Ghana, Bangladesh. Alabanza. Praise the kitchen in the morning, where the gas burned blue on every stove and exhaust fans fired their diminutive propellers, hands cracked eggs with quick thumbs or sliced open cartons to build an altar of cans.
NIce to hear from you. The winter has arrived here now. It's a batten the hatches kind of day. The rain is coming down in sheets like something off a film. There's hailstones trapped in a spider web on my windowsill. Or there was until the spider web just got blown away. Now it's thundering too. I'm counting down the days til spring already!
Schotel van de dag / Lost Bear : 10inch Split Schotel van de dag (dish of the day) is a brand new punk/hardcore/indie-band from Utrecht. They came to this world to serve humanity with uncompromised guitar violence! For this split they've teamed up with the 90's inspired hairy indierockers of Lost Bear. -- GET IT FOR FREE --
a dear friend sent me this pic-she has taken several in greenland recently which can be seen in my 'winter' pics album-thanks for the comment-glad you like it -and nice to hear from you-your autumn pic is lovely
Online Now!
![Nane [Coming soon a video for Amy Duncan]](http://c4.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/73/s_1e5cace4215436c6f0c86fdf2482c1b7.jpg)
