es que fue hace mucho jaja, esa la había visto ya, como me imagino la mayoría, pero la de Chris me la había perdido antes.
Si, estuvo cerca, igual, era terrible en aquella época (nos es que haya mejorado mucho ahora, jajaja) Me acuerdo de otra... Rome... piensa piensa... Italy? Jajajajaja
La de Chris yo tampoco la había visto antes... Creo, ya ni me acuerdo... Pasó taaanto tiempo...
nuevo video de Stephen Malkmus "Gardenia" (como el gran tema de Kyuss) con apariciones de integrantes de Modest Mouse, Girl Talk, Weezer y Steve Turner
11/25/05 - Buenos Aires
11/26/05 - Buenos Aires
11/28/05 - Porto Alegre, BR
06/01/07 - Sao Paulo, BR
10/16/08 - Sao Paulo, BR
10/17/08 - Sao Paulo, BR
10/19/08 - Buenos Aires
nuevo video de Stephen Malkmus "Gardenia" (como el gran tema de Kyuss) con apariciones de integrantes de Modest Mouse, Girl Talk, Weezer y Steve Turner
Muchas gracias por el link, ni en sus buenas épocas MTV pasaba cosas así.
Bah, la primera vez que escuché a Pavement fué en Lado B pero por lo gral no pasaban. Estaría bueno tener Pitchfork en la tv normal de cada uno, tiene cosas muy buenas, lástima que demore tanto en cargar.
No se si ya lo vieron, pero esto lo leí ayer y es de un blog de Cornell habla de un sueño que tuvo en el que aparece Layne Stanley , también nombra a Andy Wood, me pareció muy triste.
The essence of a dream can follow you all day long. Sometimes two or three days. I have had dreams as a little kid that I remember like they were yesterday, though as time goes on these dream are sometimes hard to tell from actual events as they survive in my memory.
I am fascinated with the essence factor of dreams, period. They are as real as the essence felt from the ambience of an actual place, like a house you grew up in. Your favourite bar, or your school. The first Christmas tree you see every year, the smell of it, and especially songs. Some feelings these environments evoke are awful, some magical. All of them completely real.
Real enough that numerous cultures throughout history have believed that the dream world is every bit as important and substantial and a vital part of human life as the conscious state. Some mysticisms actually look at the world of dreams as being the "true and only world" and everything else an illusion. For my money, if you put an ice pick through your hand, I think it will prove to be a pretty fucking good illusion.
Last night I had a dream that has been following me all day like a sick dog. I was in a hotel near the house I grew up in. I was in a cafe that happened to be the lunch court of my elementary school. Various friends from my past were walking up and talking to me. In the middle of this scene walks Layne Staley. He looked much like he did the first time I met him. Shoulder length hair, clean shaved. Clear eyed and looking about 20 years old. I was so happy. Confused a little, but in a dream like this, I just wanted to accept the idea that there was some mistake and he was alive and well. He seemed happy and said was working on some new music project.
I woke up not long after that with the feeling that I had really just talked to him and he was somewhere doing just fine.
My next thought was one that has plagued me for years. Sitting in Kelly Curtis' living room with about 30 people, all sobbing. We had just come from Andy Wood's extra weird funeral-wake thing at the Paramount Theatre. It had these new age overtones that didn't fit Andy's life at all. There was an amazing film of Andy with Mother Love Bone band mates. All of Andy's friends and family were there, mixed with a bunch of fans who I didn't like but knew Andy would have loved. The fans went home. His friends went to Kelly's.
We were crammed in a smallish living room with people sitting on every available surface. Couch arms, end tables, the floor. I was leaning on the back of one of the couches that face away from the rest of the room and toward the front door. I remember Andy's girlfriend looking at everyone and saying "This is just like La Bamba" then suddenly I heard slapping footsteps growing louder and louder as they reached the front door and Layne flew in, completely breaking down and crying so deeply that he looked truly frightened and lost. Very child like. He looked up at everyone at once and I had this sudden urge to run over and grab him and give him a big hug and tell him everything was going to be OK. Kelly has always had a way of making everyone feel like everything will turn out great. That the world isn't ending. That's why we were at his place. I wanted to be that person for Layne, maybe just because he needed it so bad. I wasn't. I didn't get up in front of the room and offer that and I still regret it. No one else did either. I don't know why.
Years later, at Layne's funeral, I was angry. I kept hearing the "twice as bright, half as long" speech and the "he was just too special for this world" nonsense that I had heard at so many other funerals for so many other friends that were so young and talented. I'm not sure why I was that angry. Angry at Layne? Angry at all my other friends for leaving me? Angry at the people running around in circles saying "I knew him best" or "I was the only one he really trusted", angry at all of them for squandering what I thought of as brilliant futures that would make the world feel to me like a place worth living? Or maybe I was just mad at myself because he was dead, and one time I had a chance to pick him up, dust him off and let him know that there was a person who cared about how much pain he was in and I didn't do it.
If I ever run into him in a dream again, I hope I remember to apologise.
Night all. Sweet dreams.
" You, you are so special
You have the talent to
Make me feel like dirt
And you, you use your
Talent to dig me under
And cover me with dirt.."
No se si ya lo vieron, pero esto lo leí ayer y es de un blog de Cornell habla de un sueño que tuvo en el que aparece Layne Stanley , también nombra a Andy Wood, me pareció muy triste.
The essence of a dream can follow you all day long. Sometimes two or three days. I have had dreams as a little kid that I remember like they were yesterday, though as time goes on these dream are sometimes hard to tell from actual events as they survive in my memory.
I am fascinated with the essence factor of dreams, period. They are as real as the essence felt from the ambience of an actual place, like a house you grew up in. Your favourite bar, or your school. The first Christmas tree you see every year, the smell of it, and especially songs. Some feelings these environments evoke are awful, some magical. All of them completely real.
Real enough that numerous cultures throughout history have believed that the dream world is every bit as important and substantial and a vital part of human life as the conscious state. Some mysticisms actually look at the world of dreams as being the "true and only world" and everything else an illusion. For my money, if you put an ice pick through your hand, I think it will prove to be a pretty fucking good illusion.
Last night I had a dream that has been following me all day like a sick dog. I was in a hotel near the house I grew up in. I was in a cafe that happened to be the lunch court of my elementary school. Various friends from my past were walking up and talking to me. In the middle of this scene walks Layne Staley. He looked much like he did the first time I met him. Shoulder length hair, clean shaved. Clear eyed and looking about 20 years old. I was so happy. Confused a little, but in a dream like this, I just wanted to accept the idea that there was some mistake and he was alive and well. He seemed happy and said was working on some new music project.
I woke up not long after that with the feeling that I had really just talked to him and he was somewhere doing just fine.
My next thought was one that has plagued me for years. Sitting in Kelly Curtis' living room with about 30 people, all sobbing. We had just come from Andy Wood's extra weird funeral-wake thing at the Paramount Theatre. It had these new age overtones that didn't fit Andy's life at all. There was an amazing film of Andy with Mother Love Bone band mates. All of Andy's friends and family were there, mixed with a bunch of fans who I didn't like but knew Andy would have loved. The fans went home. His friends went to Kelly's.
We were crammed in a smallish living room with people sitting on every available surface. Couch arms, end tables, the floor. I was leaning on the back of one of the couches that face away from the rest of the room and toward the front door. I remember Andy's girlfriend looking at everyone and saying "This is just like La Bamba" then suddenly I heard slapping footsteps growing louder and louder as they reached the front door and Layne flew in, completely breaking down and crying so deeply that he looked truly frightened and lost. Very child like. He looked up at everyone at once and I had this sudden urge to run over and grab him and give him a big hug and tell him everything was going to be OK. Kelly has always had a way of making everyone feel like everything will turn out great. That the world isn't ending. That's why we were at his place. I wanted to be that person for Layne, maybe just because he needed it so bad. I wasn't. I didn't get up in front of the room and offer that and I still regret it. No one else did either. I don't know why.
Years later, at Layne's funeral, I was angry. I kept hearing the "twice as bright, half as long" speech and the "he was just too special for this world" nonsense that I had heard at so many other funerals for so many other friends that were so young and talented. I'm not sure why I was that angry. Angry at Layne? Angry at all my other friends for leaving me? Angry at the people running around in circles saying "I knew him best" or "I was the only one he really trusted", angry at all of them for squandering what I thought of as brilliant futures that would make the world feel to me like a place worth living? Or maybe I was just mad at myself because he was dead, and one time I had a chance to pick him up, dust him off and let him know that there was a person who cared about how much pain he was in and I didn't do it.
If I ever run into him in a dream again, I hope I remember to apologise.
Night all. Sweet dreams.
Layne le patearia el ojete si supiera la musica que esta haciendo...
Es muy probable... Nadie le habrá dicho nada? Ninguno de sus "viejos" amigos?
MMMM....no se si los seguira viendo...por esta carta pareceria un tipo muy sensible con esas cosas...ademas si se arrepiente de no haber tenido un gesto con Layne mientras estaba vivo da para pensar que tiene que cuidar a sus amigos mientras esten vivos y no repetir el mismo "error"...pero no se...no me la juego...igual en el mundo de la musica...con los amigos a veces es dificil decir que lo que esta haciendo otro es una cagada...cosa que creo que Layne seria uno de los pocos que no tendria problemas en decirlo, jajaja.
MMMM....no se si los seguira viendo...por esta carta pareceria un tipo muy sensible con esas cosas...ademas si se arrepiente de no haber tenido un gesto con Layne mientras estaba vivo da para pensar que tiene que cuidar a sus amigos mientras esten vivos y no repetir el mismo "error"...pero no se...no me la juego...igual en el mundo de la musica...con los amigos a veces es dificil decir que lo que esta haciendo otro es una cagada...cosa que creo que Layne seria uno de los pocos que no tendria problemas en decirlo, jajaja.
Si, que se yo... Debe estar alejado de todo ese "pasado" de Seattle... Una pena...
pobre cornell.....aburriendose solo en su restaurante de paris...al borde del suicidio, sin duda alguna....yo creo que lamancha d ehumedad de la pared que tengo adelante separece a popeye y me habla
pobre cornell.....aburriendose solo en su restaurante de paris...al borde del suicidio, sin duda alguna....yo creo que lamancha d ehumedad de la pared que tengo adelante separece a popeye y me habla
Comments
qué es entonces?
en "los 40 principales" no se los escucha mucho...
hating indie crap since 1978
Hardcore / Punk
You might get lost
"El punk es un género musical dentro del rock que emergió a mediados de los años 1970..."
http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Punk
si en realidad el hardcore punk es un derivado del folklore noruego, den pruebas.
hating indie crap since 1978
Jajajajajajajajajajajajaja...
Estás aburrido?
todo lo contrario, tirar caca para todos lados es una de mis actividades favoritas.
hating indie crap since 1978
El entrevistador es MALISIMO
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PPIal41JNKc
jaja que boludo que es ese chavón "¿no te gusta el ruido?" " ehh... algunas partes sí..." jajajaj tremendo
Este paloma entrevisto a Ed tb. si no me equivoco...jajajaja
Si, es el mismo. Pero mejoro un poco para esa. Levemente.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w-gmaO4qw2s&NR=1
además Eddie es mucho más "sociable" que Chris en ese momento, me parece. Le hace la entrevista mucho más fluida ...
Igual me mata como lo boludean cuando el loco se pone a hablar en alemán jajajja que capos.
Eddie = 1992 = Sociable... Que raro me suena... Jajajajajajaja... Pero estaba simpático en la nota esa, si...
Me había olvidado de está entrevista... It´s from Denmark... Yeah... It´s dutch... Jajajajajajajajajajajajaja
Jeje bueno, estuvo cerca.
es que fue hace mucho jaja, esa la había visto ya, como me imagino la mayoría, pero la de Chris me la había perdido antes.
Si, estuvo cerca, igual, era terrible en aquella época (nos es que haya mejorado mucho ahora, jajaja) Me acuerdo de otra... Rome... piensa piensa... Italy? Jajajajaja
La de Chris yo tampoco la había visto antes... Creo, ya ni me acuerdo... Pasó taaanto tiempo...
You have the talent to
Make me feel like dirt
And you, you use your
Talent to dig me under
And cover me with dirt.."
http://www.pitchfork.tv/videos/stephen-malkmus-gardenia
11/26/05 - Buenos Aires
11/28/05 - Porto Alegre, BR
06/01/07 - Sao Paulo, BR
10/16/08 - Sao Paulo, BR
10/17/08 - Sao Paulo, BR
10/19/08 - Buenos Aires
Muchas gracias por el link, ni en sus buenas épocas MTV pasaba cosas así.
Bah, la primera vez que escuché a Pavement fué en Lado B pero por lo gral no pasaban. Estaría bueno tener Pitchfork en la tv normal de cada uno, tiene cosas muy buenas, lástima que demore tanto en cargar.
You might get lost
You have the talent to
Make me feel like dirt
And you, you use your
Talent to dig me under
And cover me with dirt.."
The essence of a dream can follow you all day long. Sometimes two or three days. I have had dreams as a little kid that I remember like they were yesterday, though as time goes on these dream are sometimes hard to tell from actual events as they survive in my memory.
I am fascinated with the essence factor of dreams, period. They are as real as the essence felt from the ambience of an actual place, like a house you grew up in. Your favourite bar, or your school. The first Christmas tree you see every year, the smell of it, and especially songs. Some feelings these environments evoke are awful, some magical. All of them completely real.
Real enough that numerous cultures throughout history have believed that the dream world is every bit as important and substantial and a vital part of human life as the conscious state. Some mysticisms actually look at the world of dreams as being the "true and only world" and everything else an illusion. For my money, if you put an ice pick through your hand, I think it will prove to be a pretty fucking good illusion.
Last night I had a dream that has been following me all day like a sick dog. I was in a hotel near the house I grew up in. I was in a cafe that happened to be the lunch court of my elementary school. Various friends from my past were walking up and talking to me. In the middle of this scene walks Layne Staley. He looked much like he did the first time I met him. Shoulder length hair, clean shaved. Clear eyed and looking about 20 years old. I was so happy. Confused a little, but in a dream like this, I just wanted to accept the idea that there was some mistake and he was alive and well. He seemed happy and said was working on some new music project.
I woke up not long after that with the feeling that I had really just talked to him and he was somewhere doing just fine.
My next thought was one that has plagued me for years. Sitting in Kelly Curtis' living room with about 30 people, all sobbing. We had just come from Andy Wood's extra weird funeral-wake thing at the Paramount Theatre. It had these new age overtones that didn't fit Andy's life at all. There was an amazing film of Andy with Mother Love Bone band mates. All of Andy's friends and family were there, mixed with a bunch of fans who I didn't like but knew Andy would have loved. The fans went home. His friends went to Kelly's.
We were crammed in a smallish living room with people sitting on every available surface. Couch arms, end tables, the floor. I was leaning on the back of one of the couches that face away from the rest of the room and toward the front door. I remember Andy's girlfriend looking at everyone and saying "This is just like La Bamba" then suddenly I heard slapping footsteps growing louder and louder as they reached the front door and Layne flew in, completely breaking down and crying so deeply that he looked truly frightened and lost. Very child like. He looked up at everyone at once and I had this sudden urge to run over and grab him and give him a big hug and tell him everything was going to be OK. Kelly has always had a way of making everyone feel like everything will turn out great. That the world isn't ending. That's why we were at his place. I wanted to be that person for Layne, maybe just because he needed it so bad. I wasn't. I didn't get up in front of the room and offer that and I still regret it. No one else did either. I don't know why.
Years later, at Layne's funeral, I was angry. I kept hearing the "twice as bright, half as long" speech and the "he was just too special for this world" nonsense that I had heard at so many other funerals for so many other friends that were so young and talented. I'm not sure why I was that angry. Angry at Layne? Angry at all my other friends for leaving me? Angry at the people running around in circles saying "I knew him best" or "I was the only one he really trusted", angry at all of them for squandering what I thought of as brilliant futures that would make the world feel to me like a place worth living? Or maybe I was just mad at myself because he was dead, and one time I had a chance to pick him up, dust him off and let him know that there was a person who cared about how much pain he was in and I didn't do it.
If I ever run into him in a dream again, I hope I remember to apologise.
Night all. Sweet dreams.
You have the talent to
Make me feel like dirt
And you, you use your
Talent to dig me under
And cover me with dirt.."
Layne le patearia el ojete si supiera la musica que esta haciendo...
You have the talent to
Make me feel like dirt
And you, you use your
Talent to dig me under
And cover me with dirt.."
Que triste.... Ahora además de aburrida, estoy deprimida
You have the talent to
Make me feel like dirt
And you, you use your
Talent to dig me under
And cover me with dirt.."
Claaaaaaaaaaaro... Para no ser la única... Que generosa que sos :P
Jajajajajajajajajaja
Fuera de joda... Interesante...
Es muy probable... Nadie le habrá dicho nada? Ninguno de sus "viejos" amigos?
MMMM....no se si los seguira viendo...por esta carta pareceria un tipo muy sensible con esas cosas...ademas si se arrepiente de no haber tenido un gesto con Layne mientras estaba vivo da para pensar que tiene que cuidar a sus amigos mientras esten vivos y no repetir el mismo "error"...pero no se...no me la juego...igual en el mundo de la musica...con los amigos a veces es dificil decir que lo que esta haciendo otro es una cagada...cosa que creo que Layne seria uno de los pocos que no tendria problemas en decirlo, jajaja.
Si, que se yo... Debe estar alejado de todo ese "pasado" de Seattle... Una pena...
Eso te pasa por robarle la pipa...
que salaga un disco nuevo de per jam