Ok, hurry formalities.
Geoff Farina (ex-Karate , Glorytellers and Secret Stars) and Chris Brokaw (ex How , Codeine and Pullman) have recently recorded for damnably Rec (British and European market) and for the same label Brokaw (U.S. market) the Rec Capitan, two discs released in the spring and autumn of 2010, The Angel's Message To Me and The Boarder's Door .
Two acoustic guitars, two voices, a handful of classical pieces of music and some country-blues song written, however, by our own hand.
The way they play the country, even in reinterpretations of the classics, is more reflective songwriting, slow, silent contaminated by snow and cold of the Northeast alone, compared to the typical American South, sparkling, and galloping prone to speed circus.
E 'the same to inform us that Geoff has spent the last year in Maine, a very "cold and lonely," which led him to write a few songs as "cold and lonely."
begin with, then Chris leaves only Geoff, then vice versa, then claim it back together.
Geoff's voice is grainy and veiled, she performs in a fairly finger-picking virtuoso, his lyrics are poetic, engaged, sophisticated. It has a haughty air of constant and serious, is included in part but still a bit 'detached. Chris has a slightly more powerful tone and a more sanguine, as also in the singing and guitar playing.
They are simple, honest, passionate about what they do, and require silence and attention, as all things delicate and poetic.
I thought that the risk of soporific effect, after the third piece of sweet riffs and melancholic voices, however, I find myself surrounded and cradled in a dreamy and sparse.
I try to focus on the meaning of the lyrics though, of course, not being native, I lose a few words here and there. The public
small, despite the presence of three couples and a noisy group of friends drunk and annoying, is involved and warm and the two manage to steal a pair of a, although Geoff does not stop direct glances of annoyance to the peasants in these room and poor Chris is forced to apologize for junta to take some 'of silence: "I'm Trying to concentrate up here ...", he says.
Let's get started with the invective.
What you'll never stop wondering why, why, why, because the Holy God, people come to concerts to talk, aloud to each other. I do not even
rifugerò rituals in polite expressions such as "in my humble opinion" or "I will surely be wrong myself."
No, no. It 's so that's all. And you are wrong YOU. Vol
Why are you at the shows and you do not even know why. What are you doing
Vol presence in the evenings and did not understand the essence . Vol
that desecrates the arts and undermined the hard work that is behind every effort to communicate emotions, feelings and nuances. Vol
May God should sever the vocal cords and amputate the language is taught as it is in the world. Vol
What does it do but who you spend € 10 or 15, if not more, only to disrupt the beauty something that you do not know and appreciate the attention of those who go to concerts to do what should be done: listen.
Please, if you want to lounge or show off your latest look, you can go to Gilda or the pub downstairs or around the center. Or, at least, stay out.
Thanks.
0 comments:
Post a Comment