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Welke muziek staat er nu op (part 5) ???


Ome Henk
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O, die zal ik straks eens opzetten. Staat op de ontruiste set. Maar onttikte?, ik vraag het me af.

Nu maar eens l'Hiver van Vivaldi. Voor de broodnodige koude rillingen.

 

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In 2000 opgenomen live album. Billy Joel zijn stem is nog licht en flexibel. De opname is van het niveau - luid draaien - om het live gevoel er uit te halen en de details in de opname. Want die zijn er wel zeker. 

2000 Years: The Millennium Concert (Live)

59497014e2ca7_Billyjoel.jpg.21c41d9000f0ec17e80a2e10e20a9d78.jpg

Edited by Ivan10
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Ja, dat zal hè? Ik kan Youtube alleen via de pc luisteren en kijken, en dan via de Leak Stereo 70 en mijn mini open baffles, en dan kan ik aardig uit mijn dak gaan. Deze video heb ik dan ook al zóveel bekeken en beluisterd, evenals meer van dat concert trouwens. Hun interactie (ahum) op het podium vind ik ook geweldig :wub:.

Ondertussen toch maar op de achtergrond opgezet en raad eens, alwéér kippenvel. En meteen maar hard gezet.....

 

En bekijk/beluister déze dan eens..... Pffffffff :wub: :wub: :wub:

 

 

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 Qobuz  streaming 24/192  Diana Krall  "turn up the quiet" 😇

 

51Q9JskENHL.jpg

Ondanks Hi-res vind ik de opname niet zo goed.  Het "slist"  een beetje.  Verder zijn het 13 in een dozijn liedjes.  Mooi en de melodie vaak direct herkenbaar.

Maar ik snap denk ik wel waarom zoveel "grijze mannen" een beetje gek van Diana zijn.  Ze heeft zulke "mooie blauwe ogen." 💕

Edited by Tubejack
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Volgens mij slist ze zélf juist ook een beetje.....:rolleyes:.

Ik ken niet al haar albums, maar The Girl in the Other Room vind ik wel één van de beste, vanwege de minimale orchestratie... :huh: ;)

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R-423341-1275378952.jpeg.jpg

The Alan Parsons project: Tales of mystery and imagination.

Ik was ernaar op zoek in het afgelopen half jaar. Af en toe mompelde ik "Qoth the Raven", wist dat het uit een vorig leven kwaam, maar kon mijn vinger er niet op leggen. Het moest van een LP zijn geweest, dacht ik. Iets met Edgar Allan Poe, beetje eng ook. Maar hoe vind je zoiets in een verzameling langspleelplaten?? Ik had al vruchteloos de ruggen in de kast beneden bestudeerd - de meeste onleesbaar door slijtage - en ook wel die bij mij in de kast. Maar natuurlijk geen Poe als artiest.
En hoever kom je met een citaat als Qoth the Raven?

Vandaag dan toch. Iets verder gezocht dan mijn neus lang is, en toen dook de naam Alan Parson op... Mijn herinnering haakte in The Fall of the House of Usher...
Maar dat is tekstloos. En in mijn hoofd hoor ik een stem het gedicht voordragen. Heeft u even?

Quote

The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
    While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
            Only this and nothing more.”
 
    Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
    Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
    From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
            Nameless here for evermore.
 
    And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
    So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
    “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
            This it is and nothing more.”
 
    Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
    But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
    And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
            Darkness there and nothing more.
 
    Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
    But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
    And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
            Merely this and nothing more.
 
    Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
    “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
      Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
            ’Tis the wind and nothing more!”
 
    Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
    Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
    But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
            Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
 
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
 
    Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
    For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
    Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
            With such name as “Nevermore.”
 
    But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
    Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
    Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
            Then the bird said “Nevermore.”
 
    Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
    Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
    Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
            Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”
 
    But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
    Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
    Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
            Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”
 
    This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
    This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
    On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
            She shall press, ah, nevermore!
 
    Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
    “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
    Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
 
    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
    Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
    On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
 
    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
    Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
    It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
 
    “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
    Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
    Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
 
    And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
    And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
    And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
            Shall be lifted—nevermore!

Dus ik moet nog verder zoeken. Zou ik het vinden, of...

Nevermore?

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Genesis - The way we walk volume 1 - the shorts

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Way_We_Walk

Genesis live een album uit 1992. Phil Collins is nog in zijn beste vocale vorm. De albumproductie is heerlijk gefocussed op de drumpartijen en de percussie. De versies blijven dichtbij de studioversies, maar zijn live net even anders en met meer peper.  Het publiek is er ook niet te hard in gemixed, mooi op de achtergrond. De stem van Phil is goed gefocussed en niet weg geplamuurd in het geluid. De andere instrumenten van keyboard tot percussie krijgen allemaal netjes de ruimte, zodat je van deze muzikanten ook kan genieten. Coldplay kan nog wat leren, want hun live producties klinken eigenlijk erg dun. Alsof je met een stethoscoop moet luisteren bij je speakerset. 

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