A következő oldal a nyugalom és a közízlés megzavarására alkalmas!
Böngészését kizárólag:
látogatóknak ajánljuk!
Ennek tudatában:

– If you were able to start a super band with anyone you wanted, then:
Guitar: James Hatefield
Bass: Sting (of course)
Drums: Dhalsim from Street Fighter
Keys: Vangelis (who also comes from same city: Volos)
French Horn: Gibby Haynes (Butthole Surfers)
Spoons: Hasil Adkins (one of the earliest one-man bands)
Groupie: Belladona (Best orgasmic analist in 2002, but just nominated orgasmic oralist in 2003. In 2006 just nominated favourited ass, but in 2007 she won the title of the dirtiest girl in porn.)
Ugly groupie: Barbara Streisand
Drug supplier: Steve-o from Jackass
Bus driver: Charles Manson
Tour manager: Hugh Hefner (founder of Playboy magazine)
*Untranslatable Erika vacuum cleaner’s slogan from the 70s.
Sense: Don’t jerk off, Erika sucks it!

The American musician Saul Conrad plays „hard to categorize”, perhaps „experimental chamber pop” or „other” music on piano and guitar with surprising key changes, nonsensical rhythmic shifts, overlapping melodies, and folk elements.
His third album (read about!) – which is more popular than previous two (listen to!) – was influenced by Kirkegaard and William Blake, Townes van Zandt and Blaze Foley, Harry Nilsson and Syd Barret, and more.
Further shows in Europe
10/25 Vienna, Austria – Mo.e 10/26 Lyon, France – Kraspek Myzik
10/29 Hamburg, DE – Hasenschauke 10/30 Berlin, DE – Madame Claude
10/31 Leipzig, DE – HanDstand und Moral
Shit!, I said, all chips on the table! . Before Swans took the stage, on board the ship at anchor, watching the purplish clouds, we talked or held our breath in reverence, and to get the best night out of sweet smoke, because if there’s a time to tune in – this must it. And let me make this a disclaimer: maybe I was tuned in too much; my shoes smell like a pair of rats; I often badly miss contact at shows where everyone is facing the stage, like an altar; and most relevantly, I hadn’t got into their reunion albums deep enough.
Swans really hurt, ears and heart, by their sheer volume. The ship A38 is famed for its excellent sound, but, strangely, Gira’s sonorities got trapped in the mix – coming loud and clear, but without the depth to his voice. Count crashes to 22 – a lighthook poises! or some such intermission. Huge blocks – a bit short of details -. cold shiny storm of steel, bluesy downcast drudge, and in the center: immediacy. They bared themselves – were hypnotic, to be kind – or focused beyond bias. Earplugs came with entry, but using them would have felt like betrayal.
Levels of experience (and how they lapsed):
shimmering transfusion swept legs, twitched back and back, off with poses at the joints, I was shaking + the sense of being in the moment (but noone really broke loose)-> communal
release and abandon -> surfing, fun in the sun ( more fun fun fun!) -> magic (a few waves) -> [magical] fairy tale (alas,only a few moments of that…you know, mythic reenactment – but maybe I went to the wrong show)
It was great, it was real, it promised rapture, maybe companionship, but I didn’t totally get it.
Back in the streets, I stopped by an old man playing a woodbox guitar and singing just beautifully to it. Bucolic songs,ballads – almost myths. Thank you, Swans! Thank you, Mr Péter Lóczi!