Moving on...

A lonely place for a lonely man.
This song is by Kid Koala who is definitly worth your time.
Why not check out his myspace?

A Perfect Day for Bananafish

Read this story written by J.D. Salinger for The New Yorker in 1948, and later published in his 1953 collection: Nine Stories. Read it not just for the captivating ending, but also for the perfection achieved so rarely in short story writing. Seymour Glass and his young friend Sybil come alive through Salinger's words; every word spoken is so natural that it is almost expected by the reader. Real life can't be described with words you say? Well Salinger gets pretty damn close here. The interactions between an old sick man and a young child at the beach are written so sincerely that it is hard to look away from the text; their casual conversation drawing you in with its utter realism.
" From the late 60's he [Salinger] has avoided publicity. Journalists have assumed, that because he doesn't give interviews, he has something to hide. In 1961 Time Magazine sent a team of reporters to investigate his private life. "I like to write. I love to write. But I write just for myself and my own pleasure," said Salinger in 1974 to a New York Times correspondent. However, according to Joyce Maynard, who was close to the author for a long time from the 1970s, Salinger still writes, but nobody is allowed to see the work." (read more)

Smoke and Mirrors.

As the curtains parted and the countless rows of bloodthirsty self-righteous onlookers were unleashed upon me, my small, startled form shook with uncontrollable fear. My whole being was up for judgment; placed high on a platform under a spotlight, sentenced to be dissected to death. But as I stood there, preparing myself for the inevitable last release of breath, I realized the TRUTH. I felt the flow, the rhythm: my path was clear. Joy spiralled in from all directions; tears poured forth with vigour as some unknown force siphoned into my being. My eyes set forward, seeing with an unfamiliar confidence that had nearly been lost forever. Cold as crystal and warm as a lover's hand, my soul was re-united with the elements it had sprung from at the beginning of time. My limbs seethed with control, sinews clenched with newfound strength. Jaw opening I found myself screaming with a passion so foreign it was a re-birth of all that was once good inside of me. My feet left the floor, I soared over all the meaningless, lifeless, uninteresting fools who had done the least they could to help. I will never ease up, and I will not be fooled again.

RJD2 - Smoke and Mirrors

I don't know what they're saying?

A very busy weekend, friday night brought me to Wallace Film Studios at Bloor and Lansdowne for an oldskool event: Dillinja, Skream and Lemon D. I will post more about friday night soon; 'cause today I felt like writing about some foreign music. Have you ever met someone who hates music without lyrics? They just can't see the skill in crafting a song without words, assuming that no lyrics=no message. To these people I try and explain that music is sound, and that music lacking lyrics can deliver beautiful melodies regardless. When listening to music in another language, the musical barriers that normally divide us are removed. No longer are we worrying if the lyrics are too preachy, too lame or too trivial. When I hear a song in Spanish, I can only think about how that language is a song: every sentence music to my ears. I'm going to post a few songs, great ones for those summer mixes everyone makes. The first couple are by Manu Chao, a truly multi-national singer, he was born in Paris to Spanish parents and offers a unique blend of French/Latin folk music. The other song is by French acoustic band Tryo, who were introduced to me by some Belgian friends a few years ago.


Manu Chao- Clandestino
Manu Chao - Desparecido
Manu Chao - Lagrimas de Oro

Tryo - L'hyme de nos Campagnes

I was in France at La Route du Rock festival in St. Malo - 2005. I had just spent three days camping alongside thousands of other festival-goers and watching such bands as Sonic Youth, the Cure, Yo La Tengo and Animal Collecitve. At the end of it all I packed my bag and sat on a country road waiting for a bus to the train station. Hundreds of people sitting in the sun, all looking out over the serene french countryside, and some kid from Jersey UK had Manu Chao playing on his ghetto blaster. This was the first time I had heard his music and at that perfect moment I knew it would not be my last.