Let Me Kiss You

There's a place in the sun
For anyone who has the will to chase one..AND I
I think I've found mine
Yes, I do believe I have found mine

So, close your eyes and think of someone you physically admire
And let me kiss you, let me kiss you

I've zig-zagged all over America and I cannot find a safety haven
Say, would you let me cry on your shoulder
I've heard that you'll try anything twice

Close your eyes and think of someone you physically admire
And let me kiss you, let me kiss you

But then you open your eyes and you see someone that you physically despise
But my heart is open, my heart is open to you.

Morrissey

só

 

 

Ah, só eu sei quanto dói meu coração. E não o posso dizer porque sentir é como o céu, lamenta Fernando Pessoa.

Ah, só

Ah, só eu sei
Quanto dói meu coração
Sem fé nem lei,
Sem melodia, nem razão.

Só eu, só eu,
E não o posso dizer
Porque sentir é como o céu
Vê-se mas não há nele que ver.

Fernando Pessoa
(1888-1935)

Japan is Alive

Tsunami: One year later

Moments following the tsunami striking Japan and the same view as it is today.

A whirlpool caused by the March 11, 2011 tsunami is seen near Oarai City, Ibaraki prefecture, in this image taken March 11, 2011 (L), with the same area being shown on March 3, 2012, in this combination photo released by Kyodo on March 7, 2012, ahead of the one-year anniversary of the March 11 earthquake and tsunami. Mandatory Credit REUTERS/Kyodo

The tsunami-devastated Yamada town in Iwate prefecture is seen in two images taken on March 14, 2011 (top) and March 1, 2012, in this combination photo released by Kyodo on March 7, 2012, ahead of the one-year anniversary of the March 11 earthquake and tsunami. Mandatory Credit REUTERS/Kyodo



A tsunami-devastated area in Kesennuma, Miyagi prefecture, is seen in these aerial view images taken March 12, 2011 (L) and March 3, 2012, in this combination photo released by Kyodo on March 7, 2012, ahead of the one-year anniversary of the March 11 earthquake and tsunami. Mandatory Credit REUTERS/Kyodo



A tsunami-devastated area is seen in Kesennuma, Miyagi prefecture, in this aerial view images taken March 12, 2011 (top) and March 1, 2012, in this combination photo released by Kyodo on March 7, 2012, ahead of the one-year anniversary of the March 11 earthquake and tsunami. Mandatory Credit REUTERS/Kyodo



A combination photograph shows the same location on a street in Miyako, Iwate Prefecture, northeastern Japan on two different dates, March 11, 2011 (top) and February 17, 2012 (bottom). The top photograph shows a wave crashing onto a street after the magnitude 9.0 earthquake

* see more on http://news.yahoo.com/photos/tsunami-one-year-later-slideshow/combo-photo-shows-tsunami-devastated-kesennuma-miyagi-prefecture-photo-105154736.html#crsl=%252Fphotos%252Ftsunami-one-year-later-slideshow%252Fcombination-photograph-shows-same-location-two-different-dates-photo-114630928.html

 

Edson Marques sabe das coisas...

Mulheres

Não me bastam os cinco sentidos para perceber-lhes toda a beleza. Não me bastam os cinco sentidos para viver com totalidade o mistério profundo que elas trazem consigo. Eu tenho é que tocá-las, cheirá-las, acariciá-las, penetrar-lhes o sorriso, sentir o seu perfume, beijar-lhes o céu da boca, ouvir suas histórias, transformá-las em deusas. Tenho que dar-lhes o amor que o meu corpo conduz e sustenta-me a alma. O belo amor natural de todos os corpos e almas e coisas do mundo. Como espelho de paixões em labareda, tenho que sentir nos seus olhos um raro brilho diamante.

Eu as respeito e as venero, com a graça de um cisne satisfeito nadando num lago tranqüilo e a ousadia de um touro selvagem recém-despertado. Não lhes faço perguntas, não as pressiono por nada, não quero mudá-las jamais. Sempre imagino o que possam sonhar, e procuro suavemente entrar no sonho delas. Cavalgo o vento para visitar-lhes as razões, as emoções, as loucuras. E como um deus escandaloso e surpreso por sua própria criatura, eu entro então no coração de cada uma delas, deliciosamente, como se entrasse numa pulsante catedral. Mergulho na essência dos seus desejos e cada vez me espanto mais com tanta fantasia, com tanta formosura. Os cinco sentidos, por não serem precisos, ainda não bastam, e eu preciso mais do que isso para compreendê-las.

Toda mulher é silenciosa por dentro. A existência pura se manifesta em cada detalhe. Assim na terra como no céu, amar as mulheres é uma experiência religiosa. E eu as amo, fina substância, como deve amar quem ama de verdade — incondicionalmente. Sem ciúmes. Eu amo as morenas, as loiras, as baixinhas, as altas, as lindas, as quase feias. Amo as virtuosas, as magras, as gordinhas, as diabólicas, as tímidas, e até as mentirosas. As iluminadas, as pecadoras, e as santíssimas. Amo as virgens, as pobres, as ricas, as loucas, as muito vivas, as inocentes. As bronzeadas pelo sol, e as branquinhas. As inteligentes, e as nem tanto. Desde que sensíveis, eu amo as jovens, as velhas, as solteiras, as casadas, as separadas. As bem-amadas, e as abandonadas. As livres, e as indecisas. E se me dessem o poder, o tempo, e, principalmente, a chance, eu a todas elas daria, todos os dias, um orgasmo cósmico e sublime. Poeticamente.

Apanharia flores silvestres, tomaria sol com todas elas. Andaríamos descalços na areia, contemplaríamos crepúsculos cor de abóbora, jantaríamos à luz de velas, dançaríamos, tomaríamos vinho branco, olharíamos as estrelas. E eu lhes faria poesias de amor. Puro como um anjo, amaria cada uma delas eternamente — uma por vez. Com delicadeza, com doçura, com profundidade, com inocência. Entusiasmado, como se cada uma fosse a única. Como se no mundo inteiro não houvesse mais nada, nem ninguém.

Todas as noites, passaria cremes e encantos no seu corpo. Falaria sobre fábulas, contaria histórias românticas, as veria dormir. Ao som de Vangelis, velaria por um tempo o sono delas, e de madrugada, antes do sol raiar, antes do primeiro pássaro cantar, as cobriria com o resto de luar que ainda houvesse, e sairia em silêncio. Como um felino lógico, sensual e saciado, deslizaria pelo cetim azul-celeste dos lençóis, saltaria por sobre todas as metáforas — e sorrindo iria embora.

Enfim, se fosse Deus, eu com certeza não mais cuidaria do universo e dessas coisinhas banais. Não iria ficar controlando o destino das pessoas, o tempo, a pressa, os compromissos, as horas, o caminho dos planetas, a economia, o cotidiano, o infinito, a Internet, a geografia... Não!

Eu somente iria amar as mulheres, como elas merecem. E como nunca foram amadas.

Só isso, definitivamente. Nada mais, nada mais!

Edson Marques

http://www.edsonmarques.com/p/artes.html

Delírios, sonhos, utopias...

Delírios, sonhos, utopias... Quem ama a Liberdade tem direito a tudo isso!
Para mim, todo momento é uma oportunidade — de criar, de sonhar, de inventar alguma coisa. De ter uma ideia, de dar um abraço, ou de fazer amor. De tomar um vinho, ou de tomar um sol. Para mim, toda ocasião é uma chance única de viver a vida. Toda ocasião é uma festa. Desperdiçá-la seria um pecado. Aliás, como dizia meu bisavô, o único crime que não tem perdão é desperdiçar a vida.

Mas eu me equilibro nesse ofício de ser muitos, de andar numa corda, saltar numa linha e correr pelos versos de mim. Eu me equilibro nesse instante em que o eterno se desfaz. Nesse inexato momento em que o poeta que sou agora dança. Pois o meu destino é viver na arena, dançando entre os leões famintos. É um perigo, eu sei. Porém, nos intervalos das lutas, sorrindo, tomo sempre vinho rouge no gargalo colorido das garrafas de cristal. Talvez um dia eu acabe até morrendo na arena, quem sabe. Acontece que, antes de "morrer" na arena, eu VIVO na arena — e isso faz toda a diferença. Prefiro ser um gladiador ensangüentado a ser um boi feliz. Meu coração precisa de sangue, não de capim.

PORTANTO, OLHE PARA OS LADOS
Agora mesmo, onde você estiver, olhe para os lados. Observe o ambiente em seus mínimos detalhes. Apure a sensibilidade, ajuste a consciência, abra seu coração, respire fundo, olhe para os lados outra vez, e responda-me, sinceramente: — As pessoas com as quais você hoje convive são amorosas, compreensivas, inteligentes, excitantes, audaciosas, livres, saudáveis, brilhantes, honestas, sensíveis, delicadas, independentes, e cheias de entusiasmo pela vida?
— São?!
Porque, se assim não forem, responda-me: O que é que você continua fazendo aí?

EdsonMarques.com

All or Nothing at All

Gleba de ausentes

"Vão as velas côncavas/ sobre o mar aberto/ vão levando o amor/ ao destino certo". 

H. Dobal

AMOR I
No áspero cálculo da paisagem:
a tarde
o domingo.
O verão:
a cidade ereta
no planalto seco.

A cidade masculina.
A cidade armada de ângulos
de concreto. Sua couraça
de vidro, sua indiferença
de mármore.
Seu amor:
o apressado atrito dos sexos.

De Os Signos e as Siglas (1987)


AMOR II
Na calma da tarde
vem um pensamento.
Partir para sempre.
Só. No adeus do vento.

Vão as velas côncavas
sobre o mar aberto
vão levando o amor
ao destino certo.

Turva calmaria
afunda o verão.
Naufragado amor.
O amor é somente
uma dessas cousas
que vêm e que vão.

De Ephemera (1995)


MULHER
A brisa e a luz cantarão nos teus cabelos.
A luz que acende a cor:
a saudade no sol nas dunas do teu corpo.
A brisa sobre as águas: o fogo no sangue,
os árdegos cavalos que a manhã dispara.
A tarde do fauno:
a doçura da pele sob o tremor dos dedos.
À noite a luz crescente
sonha o amor nas tuas areias.

De Ephemera (1995)

 

Thelonious Monk Redux

By

RAUL D'GAMA ROSE,

Raul d'Gama Rose

Senior Contributor - Since 2003

When you hear great music, be prepared to be touched in your soul.

443 articles published | Recent:

• Thelonious Monk Redux
• William James's Varieties of Religious Experience
• Cello Lounge
• Mexico Azul
• Impressions

Published: March 10, 2012


Perhaps there are no better contemporary homages to pianist and composer Thelonious Monk than the ones re-imagined by soprano saxophonist Steve Lacy and trombonist Roswell Rudd, as well as by pianist Misha Mengelberg. But the greatest of all is the short one by composer and pianist Heiner Stadler. That seminal album—Tribute to Bird and Monk (Tomato, 1978; Labor Records, 2011)—alone gave evidence that Monk's music would live on for scores of succeeding generations. It also gave notice of Stadler's ingenuity. And it put him in the august company of musicians such as alto saxophonist, flutist and bass clarinetist Eric Dolphy, alto saxohonist Ornette Coleman and a handful of others for the sheer brilliance of his innovative approach to music even beyond Monk's own repertory. The attraction of Monk continues unabated. Here are some of the more recent gems from the musical jewellery store.
The Microscopic Septet
Friday The 13th: The Micros Play Monk
Cuneiform Records
2011
Once the Microscopic Septet gets into character, there is no stopping it. Clearly this is the case with the band's slightly irreverent homage to Monk, Friday The Thirteenth: The Micros Play Monk. Of course, Monk would have it no other way, for no one could play Monk like Monk and The Man never did encourage it. Besides having once postulated that there was no such thing as right or wrong notes, His High Outness paved the way for his music to be played somewhat irreverently and this is what the Microscopic Septet do as the band recreates some of the classic music of the 20th century. Rather cleverly—at least intellectually speaking—the heroic work is done not by the piano, but by the horns and that is probably why the music succeeds to a such an extent, because rather than copy the angularly rhythmic architecture of Monk's music, the band's approach is holistic. Consequently, the marvelous repertory ensemble does find greater comfort in the work of composer and arranger Oliver Nelson's approach, or even that of orchestrator Hall Overton.

The key tracks would be the rousing crescendos of "Friday the 13th," the glittering crescendos of "Evidence" and the timeless swing of "Brilliant Corners." But there is brilliant Monk in the exquisite transposition of the master's music to horns and this is everywhere on the album.
Jimmy Owens
The Monk Project
IPO Recordings
2011
Monk's music was all about time. Few musicians in any era of jazz have had such mastery of the art of time. Only reeds and woodwinds master Anthony Braxton in the modern era comes close. Now trumpeter and flugelhorn player Jimmy Owens pays tribute to this aspect of Monk's music with The Monk Project. Owens' project revolves around not just the overall ingenuity of Monk, but also focuses attention on the masterful display of the aspect of time, in Monk's oeuvre. The result is: even when Owens is growling like jungle blues trumpet stylist Bubber Miley and wailing like Miles Davis, he is actually setting about to examine what happens when a musician slows down the tempo considerably throughout, but keeps the pulse of the music intact; or when he or she trawls in the river of tears, as in the blues, with aching brilliance and plays around the pulse created by the swing of standard Monk. Thus he inadvertently recalls Monk's debt to the blues as via the delta or the plantation in his and Owens's soul.

Owens' of "Blue Monk" is one of the finest in recent memory and struts in a more formal manner than Monk's did when he actually swayed and sashayed in the pool of tears of the 1940s. The inclusion of "It Don't Mean A Thing (If You Ain't Got That Swing)" is not just a tribute to Monk's lineage to its composer, Duke Ellington, but to the proto-historic world of stride piano as well. And while the album is superb throughout, "Brilliant Corners" bristles with singular genius. As do the contributions of Howard Johnson on tuba, Wycliffe Gordon on trombone and master percussion colorist and timekeeper extraordinaire, Winard Harper.

Monkadelphia
Crepuscule
Dreambox
2010
Monkadelphia's tribute, Crepuscule is the oldest of these three recordings and what sets it apart is the subtle re-harmonization of Monk's oeuvre by the ensemble from Philly. This has everything to do with the vibraphone of the band's chief progenitor, Tony Miceli. Monk worked with only one vibraphonist of note and that was Milt Jackson—or was it the other way round: Jackson working with Monk? At any rate, the 1954 recording Bags Groove on the Prestige label was the only known testament to this relationship. Several vibes players may have attempted to re-locate the music of Monk to the resonant landscape of that instrument. But none is as memorable as Miceli's. Naturally, the vibraphonist's interpretations focus on the rhythmic aspect of Monk's music, but the bright tubular bells of the vibes makes it a truly memorable experience. For one, it is possible to get melodic, where most drums would not cut it. Miceli is a sublime melodist and his harmonic palette is vast and—while not as steeped in the blues as Jackson—he still pays deep respect to that idiom.
The poetics of "Bemsha Swing" are spectacularly re-constructed with a heavy underpinning of percussion at the opening and throughout the rest of the short piece. Much of the album is up-tempo, compared with Jimmy Owens' as well as compared to many of Monk's own versions, but there is truth and beauty in merely understanding the changes in Monk's music and in playing it with singular individualism. Miceli does this with aplomb. The rustic drums of Jim Miller and the melodic bass of Micah Jones mirrors those players who once graced Monk's quartets and the big fat tenor saxophone of Chris Farr does more than mirror the playing of the great saxophonist Charlie Rouse especially on the hauntingly beautiful "Crepuscule With Nellie."

All of this is proof of the fact that the music of Thelonious Monk is alive and well and ready for new generations of musicians and fans alike.


Tracks and Personnel
Friday The 13th
Tracks: Brilliant Corners; Friday The 13th; Gallop's Gallop; Teo; Pannonica; Evidence; We See; Off Minor; Bye-Ya; Worry Later; Misterioso; Epistrophy.
Personnel: Phillip Johnston: soprano saxophone; Don Davis: alto saxophone; Mike Hashim: tenor saxophone; Dave Samuelson: baritone saxophone; Joel Forrester: piano; David Hofstra: bass; Richard Dworkin: drums.

The Monk Project
Tracks: Bright Mississippi; Well You Needn't; Blue Monk; Stuffy Turkey; Pannonica; Let's Cool One; It Don't Me A Thing (If It Ain't Got That Swing); Brilliant Corners; Reflections; Epistrophy.
Personnel: Jimmy Owens: trumpet, flugelhorn; Wycliffe Gordon: trombone; Marcus Strickland: tenor saxophone; Howard Johnson: tuba, baritone saxophone; Kenny Barron: piano; Kenny Davis: bass; Winard Harper: drums.

Crepuscule
Tracks: Bemsha Swing; Bright Mississippi; Crepuscule With Nellie; Green Chimneys; Eronel; Humph; Reflections; Skippy; Played Twice; Let's Call This; Bye-Ya.
Personnel: Chris Farr: tenor saxophone; Tony Miceli: vibes; Tom Lawton: piano; Micah Jones: bass; Jim Miller: drums.

Related Video(s):

 

http://www.allaboutjazz.com/php/article.php?id=41530

 

 

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