HAPHAZARD MUSINGS

Posted in Uncategorized by lmass on 29/03/2011

Tennessee Ernie Ford – 16 tons

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printemps

Posted in Uncategorized by lmass on 28/03/2011

…finally! Glorieuuzzzeeee blossom and daffodils.

Le Petit Prince

Posted in Uncategorized by lmass on 27/03/2011

 

-Quand tu regarderas le ciel, la nuit, puisque j’habiterai dans l’une d’elles, puisque je rirai dans l’une d’elles, alors ce sera pour toi comme si riaient toutes les étoiles. Tu auras, toi, des étoiles qui savent rire!

Et il rit encore.

-Et quand tu seras consolé (on se console toujours) tu seras content de m’avoir connu. Tu seras toujours mon ami. Tu auras envie de rire avec moi. Et tu ouvriras parfois ta fenêtre, comme ça, pour le plaisir… Et tes amis seront bien étonnés de te voir rire en regardant le ciel. Alors tu leur diras: “Oui, les étoiles, ça me fait toujours rire!” Et ils te croiront fou. Je t’aurai joué un bien vilain tour…

Et il rit encore.

Written in 1943 by Antoine de Saint Exupéry.

RIP

Posted in Uncategorized by lmass on 24/03/2011

Elizabeth Taylor, 1932-2011

 

Posted in Uncategorized by lmass on 22/03/2011

This new trend of beat type hip hop is hitting the spot. Gil Scott Heron, Tyler the Creater and Ghostpoet are all champions of this new vibe…

Gil Scott Heron [jamie xx] – New York is Killing Me

Tyler the Creator – Yonkers

Ghostpoet – Cash and Carry me Home

The Radiant Child

Posted in Uncategorized by lmass on 22/03/2011

Jean-Michel Basquiat was born to a Haitian father and puerto-rican mother in 1960. He grew up in Brooklyn, leaving home at 15 after a brief stint in puerto rico with his mother. Living on the streets, Basquiat started to daub the walls of New York with political/poetical phrases under the psdeunoym SAMO [Same Old Shit]. In 1979 the project was put to rest with the inscription on a wall in brooklyn of SAMO IS DEAD.

By 1982, Basquiat was famous in the art world. In 1983 he started to collaborate with Andy Warhol, overlaying the latters iconic images of consumerist symbols with his renegade, vibrant style.

When Warhol died in ’87, Basquiat retreated into a world of isolation and heroin addiction which tragically culminated in his death, of a heroin overdose, a year later at the sinister age of 27.

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Posted in Uncategorized by lmass on 17/03/2011

 

Smiley Culture – Cockney Translation

RIP

Posted in Uncategorized by lmass on 16/03/2011

The silky voice behind some of the slickest Rnb and HipHop – Nate Dogg, aka Nathaniel D Haye

Posted in Uncategorized by lmass on 15/03/2011

pishposh

Posted in Uncategorized by lmass on 14/03/2011

CousCous

Posted in Uncategorized by lmass on 10/03/2011

Big fan. Always have been. Literally salivated at the some of the more foodie scenes that are the undeniably feat of this film – you can practically smell the fish, roasted poivrons and couscous thanks to the sumptuously intimate hand held close ups of fingers spooning food into hungry mouths.

Couscous, or Le Grain et le Mulet begins as a charming family drama based around the lives of North African immigrants living in the port town of Sète, in south of France. Slimane is the taciturn and long-suffering protagonist who has chosen voluntary redundancy rather than being slowly weedled out of the shipyard in which he has worked for 35 years. With his redundancy he has decided to set up a couscous restaurant on a scrap-boat which he lovingly restores with the help of various family and friends.  Opening night arrives and Slimane, with the help of the feisty young Rym, his semi-adopted daughter, have done it; the boat looks glorious, he might just be able to impress those in power who can make his dream a reality. At this point, predictably, everything falls apart. Various references to Slimane’s mortality imply that something dark is going to happen eventually, thus the intensely stressful ending is neither a surprise nor particularly emotional – just exhausting.

I can, to an extent, appreciate involving the audience in the plight of film, to feel what is happening. However, cinema is a form of entertainment, thus putting your viewers through pain and angst is a little bit presumptuous, and a clear display of too much artistic license. If a film exceeds 2 hours, then it should be pre-ordained as an epic. You should know what you are getting yourself into before you switch it on, because by the end of this mother I was utterly resentful.

So opening night arrives. Slimane and his motley crew have managed a miracle, and the unpleasant and inherently racist french characters are impressed. The night starts well, with the [now quite unsympathetically] stoic and silent Slimane bearing with stooped shoulders the effusive praise of the vulgar, bourgeois natives. Then the couscous maddeningly, and disastrously, is lost. Three excessively long sequences are the culmination of an otherwise beautifully balanced and deliciously performed film; the hysterical russian wife of Slimane’s wayward son, weeping, shouting and hyperventilating because of her useless husbands lack of respect and fidelity; Slimane doggedly [and may I suggest stupidly?] chasing after three awful young hood rats who have stolen his mobylette; and finally the heroic and feverish belly dance of Rym. The first is, quite simply, unbearable to listen to, the second frustratingly futile. The third is, initially, appropriate and mesmerising, Rym’s brave gesture fitting with the desperate need to distract the french customers from the terrible absence of their food. But after countless close ups of the young girls puppy-plump undulating stomach, the sweaty and [performance or not] lascivious attentions from the elderly musicians, and the wild, frenetic music just becomes heady and nauseating.

By the end it has gone on too long, eviscerating any residual charm that the previous 2 hours had established; maybe this is what director Abdellatif Kechiche intended. The majority of the film’s subtle realism allows us an intimate glance into the lives of this extended family. It is deeply upsetting that the finale is so melodramatic and drawn out, particularly because it seems so incongruous with the rest of the authentic, rambling storyline. The sun-soaked, exotic and aromatic lifestyle, with its stellar matriarchs and fierce traditions, is why this film was so celebrated, winning countless awards including the Cesar for best film. The sexual politics of family and food imbue the story with a strong cultural identity, while the Beur theme of the ethnic hybridity of displacement and assimilation gives the film a real sense of purpose.

But 150 minutes running time? –  just exhausting.

summer on the horizon…

Posted in Uncategorized by lmass on 07/03/2011

blossoms are starting to sprout and the air smells sweet…

Submotion Orchestra – Finest Hour [Planas rmx]

Flight Facilities – Crave You