Billie Holiday, Audrey Tatou and Chanel No. 5

To be honest, I like the song more than the commercial.

The Animals

A friend introduced me to The Animals, and I'm sold!

Stravinsky, Petrushka

I was wondering whether Petrushka's good to have swirling around in your head while you're trying to write a bigass paper, but then I realised that I was just getting distracted from work by the thought of the music possibly distracting me from work.

11,000 words to go!

Don't see the sorrow

Psychostick

I've been laughing my head off listening to this band my friend introduced to me.




And of course...

More Music - Terra Naomi

More and more and more and more music!

The trouble with waking up at midnight and not being able to go back to sleep... I end up looking for music and getting obsessed about music and getting frustrated that I have to be passive in the musical process because I can't reproduce the music or create more music or share the music with anyone in the middle of the night except through a very non-interactive blog.

Apart from Lana Del Rey (aka psychotic songstress to some of you), I've also been listening to Kathleen Battle.



Battle also sang one of the tunes in the soundtrack of House of the Flying Daggers:



I watched that movie recently, and to be honest, wasn't a great fan. Martial arts-deception-romance-tragedy movies have been done, and done better. And while I love the song, it's somehow disconcerting to have an English song in a Chinese period movie.

Slightly obsessed

Rainy days and Bach's Chaconne

Not that I really know what Bach intended for his Chaconne, but for some reason for me it's always been a lament about mortality. Bach's Chaconne conjures images of an old cathedral, a solemn funeral, gloomy skies and the cemetary at Salzburg that I visited on a cold and rainy summer day that had so many old tombstones and brilliantly colourful flowers.

Today's a rainy day as well, and I'm vegging in my mum's room with the huge windows and looking out at tree branches swaying in the breeze, grey skies, and a half-hearted drizzle. Perfect Chaconne weather.

In embarrassing music phase

David Ford: I Don't Care What You Call Me

I wanted to say something about the lyrics, but couldn't think of anything other than 'brilliant' and 'very genuine' and 'very real' and 'we've all been there before', which makes me sound like a talent show judge. I think I've no choice but to go with 'ouch'.

Incidentally, I have a presentation tomorrow which I haven't prepared for (oh damn, it's past midnight here, so that makes it today), which is why I'm surfing the net and blogging about songs.

New Favourite Song - David Ford: Cheer Up (You Miserable Fuck)

The current heartbreak moment

Rock music

I find that I appreciate different genres of music in different ways. For example, lyrics play a huge part in my appreciation of Mandarin pop/rock, but I seldom bother to even make out the lyrics in English rock. I think it's partly because I feel that Mandarin is inherently much much much more lyrical and beautiful than English, and very often, English lyrics merely spoil the music for me. (Case in point, Celine Dion's abysmal lyrics for 'All By Myself' have forever spoiled the 2nd movement of Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No.2 for me. Forever.) Just look at the lyrics for Jay Chou's songs - how much of it can be translated into English without losing the beauty? (Ya, irreversible damage to street cred due to appreciative reference to Jay Chou. Dear Jay, long gone are the days of your coolness. You have faded into mediocre idol-ness.)

For English rock, it's the howl (or growl, depending) of the guitars, wildness of the drums, the animalistic timbre and power of the voice... (*ahem* composes self and takes cold shower) and the sheer energy of the musical dissonance that gets me. Or it is the urban degenerate druggie feel. You know, for those urban degenerate druggie rocker types who are not like the healthy ones jumping around on stage and prefer to slump in a corner while somehow producing what passes for very very cool music from their guitars (probably stolen). As for the lyrics... I don't want to know. Really.

But occasionally, I take a listen to pop/rock that I never used to think much of and kinda tear up because the lyrics are so beautiful.

Superman

I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naive
I'm just out to find
The better part of me

I'm more than a bird, I'm more than a plane
I'm more than some pretty face beside a train
And it's not easy to be me

I wish that I could cry
Fall upon my knees
Find a way to lie
'Bout a home I'll never see

It may sound absurd but don't be naive
Even heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed but won't you concede
Even heroes have the right to dream?
And it's not easy to be me

Up up and away away from me
Well it's all right
You can all sleep sound tonight
I'm not crazy or anything

I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naive
Men weren't meant to ride
With clouds between their knees

I'm only a man in a silly red sheet
Digging for kryptonite on this one way street
Only a man in a funny red sheet
Looking for special things inside of me

Inside of me, inside of me, yeah
Inside of me, inside of me

I'm only a man in a funny red sheet
I'm only a man looking for a dream
I'm only a man in a funny red sheet
And it's not easy, it's not easy to be me

For the record, you should all know that I detest Superman (the red cape guy). For reasons unrelated to my detest of the superhero and for the longest time, I was relatively unimpressed by the song. It was one of those pleasant rock ballad types floating around in a veritable Pacific ocean of pleasant rock ballads. But for some reason this song is speaking to me these days. It's speaking, dude!

All this makes me think that maybe appreciation for the lyrics of a song is situational - (i.e. we like certain lyrics because of our experiences or our ability to imagine certain situations or images), but our appreciation for the music is largely aesthetic, with nothing to do with anything outside the music. Maybe? Yeah whatever.

A perfect morning

It's one of those mornings with a good-tempered rain and light, cool breezes and chirping birds (strangely enough) and an all-the-earth-is-verdant-and-growing vibe AND that happens to be a public holiday. It's the kind of morning you stretch luxuriously and wake and look out of your window into the garden with the flowering shrubs and birds jumping in and out of tiny puddles and think, damn I need more Mozart in my music collection. In fact, it's the kind of morning for which this would be the perfect accompaniment:



Just look at how happy the pianist is!

*brain explodes*

Sarasate Zigeunerweisen (damn that was hard to spell)

This version on the erhu:



This version on the violin (Heifetz):

More Damien Rice

Ok, I HAD to put this here. I think I've fallen really hard this time...

The Blower's Daughter



I'm so in love with this music, I can't bear to sleep even though I'm really sleepy hehe... The music is so lovely! Today's been such a wonderful day, even though I slept through most of it. But the parts when I was awake were wonderful... This morning I managed to drag myself out of bed and when straight to my piano to play a very incoherent but very rapid and adrenaline pumping 3rd movement, moonlight sonata. Very very very thrilling. I swear it's immensely addictive and exciting, I don't know how I'll ever live without my piano. Almost nothing gets my pulse racing as fast haha... I love it when the music fills my head; it's almost as if I'm entirely animated by the music. And now I know I sound like an idiot, and it's really time for me to go to bed :P

Totally in love again

This is Damien Rice, my newfound love.

Volcano:



Delicate (which House used before, so even if you haven't heard of Damien Rice before, you might still find it familiar):

重色轻友

Late at night, in a car parked a deserted carpark lighted dimly by streetlights, with the rain pouring and this song playing -



And all of a sudden I wished it was LSB sitting beside me.

But it was still very fun lar, and got quite high haha.

Irish Airman and Rubaiyat and some thoughts on music

Irish Airman (Yeats_ has been a long-time favourite of mine, and LSB just introduced me to the Rubaiyat. I suppose if I pick out the stanzas in Rubaiyat, and stick them together with Irish Airman, they'd together articulate my interpretation of (and extrapolation from) both poems.

The similarities:

Irish Airman:

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan's Cross
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor;
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.


Rubaiyat:

VII.

Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly--and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.

X.

With me along some Strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultan scarce is known,
And pity Sultan Mahmud on his Throne.

XI.

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse--and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.

XXVIII.

With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,
And with my own hand labour'd it to grow:
And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd--
"I came like Water, and like Wind I go."

XXIX.

Into this Universe, and why not knowing,
Nor whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing:
And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.

XXXVIII.

One Moment in Annihilation's Waste,
One moment, of the Well of Life to taste--
The Stars are setting, and the Caravan
Starts for the dawn of Nothing--Oh, make haste!

XXXIX.

How long, how long, in infinite Pursuit
Of This and That endeavour and dispute?
Better be merry with the fruitful Grape
Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.

XLV.

But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me
The Quarrel of the Universe let be:
And, in some corner of the Hubbub coucht,
Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.

LII.

And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die,
Lift not thy hands to IT for help--for It
Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.

And these stanzas, just for the heck of it:

L.

The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes,
But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes;
And He that toss'd Thee down into the Field,
He knows about it all--HE knows--HE knows!

LI.

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

LVII.

Oh Thou who didst with Pitfall and with Gin
Beset the Road I was to wander in,
Thou wilt not with Predestination round
Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?

LVIII.

Oh Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,
And who with Eden didst devise the Snake;
For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man
Is blacken'd, Man's Forgiveness give--and take!

LXIII.

None answer'd this; but after Silence spake
A Vessel of a more ungainly Make:
"They sneer at me for leaning all awry;
What? did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"

The sentiment expressed in Irish Airman is so dear to my heart that the wanton use of the lines sans understanding of the sentiment feels to me very much like a prostitution of Yeats' poem *ahem looking at you*.

Anyway, I think that sometimes I love poems not for their content, but for the way they sound to my ears. As such, my appreciation of poetry is more like my appreciation for classical music & jazz than my appreciation of most contemporary pop. I look for balance and structure and symmetry and reflection and placement of words, and ideas are mostly secondary. Irish airman is probably one of the most symmetrical poems I know.

Hmmm I've always associated poetry with music.

If say I listened to the melody of most contemporary pop first without being exposed to it through participation in it (e.g. in ktv, where I learned most of my Mando-pop), I'd probably wince at the crudeness of the structure and the very very maudlin melodies. But that same crudeness makes it easy to listen to when I'm just not feeling up to it. And of course they're easy to sing, and I think the ability to participate in music-making is one of the most significant factors in our appreciation of music because the participation gives us an outlet for creative energies and allows us an active (if somewhat unconscious) exploration of the structure and nuances of the music. Which is why I also think that it is very very difficult for someone to fully understand and appreciate music if he doesn't actually play an instrument or sing.

Maybe I'm just a snob.

That said, some classical melodies are horribly icky as well. Yes, Sadie's Gymnopedies. *shudder*

Ok, enough of this stream of consciousness thing.