Just Wondering

Here is one with a difference -


What does this Rorschach blot look like to you?

Ben Frost

I would like to focus on the work of Ben Frost, a composer of soundtracks,electronic music and classical music. He has made some unique records.


Ben Frost - Music From Fortitude (Complete)

Ben Frost’s impendingly gloomy soundtrack to Fortitude, comes to CD via Mute.

The Icelandic-based Australian composer is clearly the right man for this job, offering up a swell of emotive string arrangements shrouded in cold, wide electronic tones that convey the feel of the TV series thru a combination of incidental dialogue, cues and themes.

Fans of contemporary sci-fi soundtracks and the expansive electro-acoustic designs of the Subtext label, Jóhann Jóhannsson or indeed Ben Frost will be totally in their element here.


( More on Ben Frost here )

Enjoy.

In The Bourne CD Hunting

I am doing a major visit route tomorrow rather than today. The weather has been in a turmoil but is forecast to be much better tomorrow. Meanwhile i scoured the local charity shops for CD's finds and found these -

Sonic Youth - Dirty
Sonic Youth - Washing Machine
Sly and \the Family Stone - - There's A Riot Going On
The Memory Band - Apron Strings

Rarely do you find such quality music in a chazzer amongst the boring mainstream fluff they usually have,

Thursday Music Selection - Found Sounds Today

Okay , time for some music - all from the found CD's today -

Sly & Family Stone - Thank You For Talking To Me Africa

Classic solid funk from Sly and company! From the classic "There's A Riot Going' On" LP
( More music here )

Enjoy.

Extra Selection - Noise

This is a somewhat more extreme musical genre but if you digged the extremities of The Diamond Sea (by Sonic Youth) then here is a primer that Wire has covered -


Wolf Eyes - The Driller

From the 2006 release Human Animal


( More noise makers here )

Enjoy.


Next selection might be Tropicalia or No Wave.

Poems Of The Week

A rather belated poem selection for this week -




City That Does Not Sleep

Poem by Federico García Lorca


In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins.
The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do not dream,
and the man who rushes out with his spirit broken will meet on the
street corner
the unbelievable alligator quiet beneath the tender protest of the
stars.

Nobody is asleep on earth. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is asleep.
In a graveyard far off there is a corpse
who has moaned for three years
because of a dry countryside on his knee;
and that boy they buried this morning cried so much
it was necessary to call out the dogs to keep him quiet.

Life is not a dream. Careful! Careful! Careful!
We fall down the stairs in order to eat the moist earth
or we climb to the knife edge of the snow with the voices of the dead
dahlias.
But forgetfulness does not exist, dreams do not exist;
flesh exists. Kisses tie our mouths
in a thicket of new veins,
and whoever his pain pains will feel that pain forever
and whoever is afraid of death will carry it on his shoulders.

One day
the horses will live in the saloons
and the enraged ants
will throw themselves on the yellow skies that take refuge in the
eyes of cows.

Another day
we will watch the preserved butterflies rise from the dead
and still walking through a country of gray sponges and silent boats
we will watch our ring flash and roses spring from our tongue.
Careful! Be careful! Be careful!
The men who still have marks of the claw and the thunderstorm,
and that boy who cries because he has never heard of the invention
of the bridge,
or that dead man who possesses now only his head and a shoe,
we must carry them to the wall where the iguanas and the snakes
are waiting,
where the bear's teeth are waiting,
where the mummified hand of the boy is waiting,
and the hair of the camel stands on end with a violent blue shudder.

Nobody is sleeping in the sky. Nobody, nobody.
Nobody is sleeping.
If someone does close his eyes,
a whip, boys, a whip!
Let there be a landscape of open eyes
and bitter wounds on fire.
No one is sleeping in this world. No one, no one.
I have said it before.

No one is sleeping.
But if someone grows too much moss on his temples during the
night,
open the stage trapdoors so he can see in the moonlight
the lying goblets, and the poison, and the skull of the theatres.



Ode to Hope

Poem by Pablo Neruda


Oceanic dawn
at the centre
of my life,
waves like grapes,
the sky's solitude,
you fill me
and flood
the complete sea,
the undiminished sky,
tempo
and space,
sea foam's white
battalions,
the orange earth,
the sun's
fiery waist
in agony,
so many
gifts and talents,
birds soaring into their dreams,
and the sea, the sea,
suspended
aroma,
chorus of rich, resonant salt,
and meanwhile,
we men,
touch the water,
struggling,
and hoping,
we touch the sea,
hoping.


And the waves tell the firm coast:
'Everything will be fulfilled.'

So ...

As i moved these visits by one day, this morning i did a big




to them.

Then i screamed ..



.. that i must do them tomorrow.

And no, this is not a lame excuse -



I shall be focuesd on the tasks in hand ..



.. and blast away with my visits.