Posts tagged ‘music’

April 12, 2012

Esperanza Spalding Without the Floor

I used to hear Esperanza Spalding through the floor of my apartment as she practiced for classes at Berklee. I could tell she was good, but her music now excels at fusing the interaction of her band mates into a joyful whole.
Ms Spalding has a new album that shows off her music with a bit more tunefulness this time without giving up her usual multi-influenced style. The bebop elements are still there, dancing with Latin rhythms. The bass still duels with her voice. Her band is rock-solidly with her material. Though her style varies now from classical influences to avant garde, the sound is always pure Esperanza. Enjoy. There’s a bit of it here to hear below. Downbeat magazine says: “The most anticipated jazz album of the year has arrived, and Esperanza Spalding’s hook-filled Radio Music Society is an artistic triumph.”

http://www.downbeat.com/default.asp?sect=reviews


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Radio_Music_Society

http://www.itemvn.com/player.swf?soundFile=F34EEF4F84&autostart=no&loop=yes

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January 1, 2012

Two Means of Swan by Alfred Lord Tennyson and Camille Saint-Saens

Two Means of Swan by Alfred Lord Tennyson and Camille Saint-Saens

The music and the poem:

The Dying Swan

by Alfred Lord Tennyson

I.

The plain was grassy, wild and bare,
Wide, wild, and open to the air,
Which had built up everywhere
An under-roof of doleful gray.
With an inner voice the river ran,
Adown it floated a dying swan,
And loudly did lament.
It was the middle of the day.
Ever the weary wind went on,
And took the reed-tops as it went.

II.

Some blue peaks in the distance rose,
And white against the cold-white sky,
Shone out their crowning snows.
One willow over the river wept,
And shook the wave as the wind did sigh;
Above in the wind was the swallow,
Chasing itself at its own wild will,
And far thro’ the marish green and still
The tangled water-courses slept,
Shot over with purple, and green, and yellow.

III.

The wild swan’s death-hymn took the soul
Of that waste place with joy
Hidden in sorrow: at first to the ear
The warble was low, and full and clear;
And floating about the under-sky,
Prevailing in weakness, the coronach stole
Sometimes afar, and sometimes anear;
But anon her awful jubilant voice,
With a music strange and manifold,
Flow’d forth on a carol free and bold;
As when a mighty people rejoice
With shawms, and with cymbals, and harps of gold,
And the tumult of their acclaim is roll’d
Thro’ the open gates of the city afar,
To the shepherd who watcheth the evening star.
And the creeping mosses and clambering weeds,
And the willow-branches hoar and dank,
And the wavy swell of the soughing reeds,
And the wave-worn horns of the echoing bank,
And the silvery marish-flowers that throng
The desolate creeks and pools among,
Were flooded over with eddying song.

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