Arschcool!
~
i.n.c.i.n.e.r.a.t.e.
Arschcool!
~
i.n.c.i.n.e.r.a.t.e.
caribou - a final warning
Es kommt nicht oft vor, aber dieser Titel erregte meine Aufmerksamkeit. Das muss daran liegen, dass die Band(?) so ähnlich heißt wie dieser Vogel, den ich so lustig finde.
Dann geriet es aber wieder in Vergessenheit, bis ich gerade gelesen habe, dass die bald hier ein Konzert geben.
Jetzt höre ich nochmal rein.
Coldcut haben ihren Auftritt abgesagt, die Schweine.
Michael's bones
Lay where he fell
Face down on a sports ground
Oh ...
He was just somebody's luckless son
Oh, but now look what he's done
Oh, look what he's done
Your gentle hands are frozen
And your unkissed lips are blue
Your thinning clothes are hopeless
And no one was mad about you
Michael's bones
Were very young
But they were never to know
Oh ...
Impetuous fun
Mr. Policeman
I don't know where you get such notions from
His gentle hands are frozen
And his unkissed lips are blue
But his eyes still cry
And now you've turned the last bend
And see - are we all judged the same at the end?
Tell me, tell me
Oh, you lucky thing
You are too brave
And I'm ashamed of myself
As usual
The paint, my love, gets you going like
You wanna be got for the next world's scene
Radiohead -the headmaster ritual-
Saugeil. Die dürfen das und können es noch dazu. Give up life as a bad mistake...
Nächster Halt: Haltestelle.
Elvis Perkins - All the night without love
Lord they went to the southside and we must go too...
liliput / boatsong
Being announces itself in the imperative.
Wenn ich nur Klavier spielen könnte. So ne 70er Nummer müsste man draus machen- so Elton John mäßig... and I feel like a bullet in the gun of Henry Ford..
Da da da da da da da da da da da da
Da da da da da da da da
Da da da da da da da da da da da da (x2)
(Ooh)
REPEAT
un glaublich.
und dann: Well, then there’s “American Gangster,” which, by all formal (read: my) criteria, is the best track Jay’s ever recorded. Yes, there are more classic tracks throughout the discography -- “Girls, Girls, Girls” still titillates, and who wants to fuck with “Brooklyn’s Finest” -- but there’s really no precedent for the burst of second-by-second inspiration, the scintillating fusion of production and flow, on display here. This track can only come at the end. It can only be the title track. The only name more appropriate for a solipsistic fulfillment like this would be to self-title it even more, call it Jay-Z, or give it no name at all. This is soul music masquerading as hip-hop. Meaning hasn’t been compressed into raps like this since the mid-90s, and only then in the finest records this genre has produced. All the themes of American Gangster and its lineage are here -- hip-hop, death, family, ambition, regret, worldliness, this whole picaresque saga -- and Jay-Z becomes an outline, a conduit, a silhouette engorged in flames. Again and again Jay demands on this track, beneath the hook and scattered through this starburst of sound, “I want the sky,” which sounds fairly familiar, but never before has he sounded so close to holding it. Never before has the listener been taken by the hand and lead, step by step, to catch a glimpse of the infinite like this. Certainly art transcends -- hello, Lisbon (2006); hello, 2001; hello, “The Dead,” hello to all the reasons I spend my time parsing this shit, hello to every time I’ve ever found for an instant the source of inspiration -- but not so often with this graded accessibility, and not so often in this genre, and not so much at all in 2007. It doesn’t happen like this very often. I’d thank Hov, but I already know how welcome I am.
yes, yesss. <3 <3 <3 (von wegen tocotronic album des jahres, ne? 'kannse knicken'.)
achja, johannes!
sounds like the type of song you'd cruise too while gettin a blowjob from a hooker.
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