Natural splendour, real musics, wines, wordpower
This post’s headline is the name of an excellent, albeit US-centric & Western “pop”-centric, article by Ted Gioia.
As he notes:
The song catalogs in most demand are by musicians who are in their 70s or 80s (Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, Bruce Springsteen) or already dead (David Bowie, James Brown).
This post’s photo is a reminder that in 2022 the “Music Biz” also resolutely ignores much of the world’s remarkable “old” music…
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“I think you’ll be amused by its impertinence”.
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Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all…
So begins a justly celebrated poem by Emily Dickinson.
In this post “hope” is viewed through photographic, musical and poetic “lenses”.
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…with a musical bonus, 100% free of irony…and a suitably ironic “salute” to Australia’s most prominent “bad Santa”
Merry whatever to everyone!
Comments closed..from Scotland, with a connection to Margaret Atwood.
Even rocks melt in the sun
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How did Australia come to adopt such an unusual, infantile, and palpably unfair approach to inherited wealth?
How can Australian taxpayers/non-payers – and Australia’s remarkably craven/spineless governments – be persuaded to change it?
Peter Browne attempts to answer those questions in his essay, Syd Negus, the forgotten tax-slayer.
Comments closedSouthwest Western Australia’s flowering, feathered and furry members of the first two categories need each other, vitally.
Could their survival prospects have anything to do with the third category?
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Kathryn Schulz’s superb essay is called What Do We Hope to Find When We Look for a Snow Leopard?
Although not primarily about snow leopards, it particularly refers to a 1978 “classic” – Peter Matthiessen’s The Snow Leopard – and to a recently-published book by a Parisian who also pursued an ardent desire to encounter a snow leopard, on “the roof of the world”.
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Did I stumble upon his/their avatar in a Tibetan Plateau marketplace?
Peter Lewis’s essay is an amusing and perceptive look at “Scotty”and Billy, as fellow “masters of pastiche”.
Morrison doesn’t even pretend to try to build his own coherent body of work. It’s not that he can’t come up with a tune. Far from it, there is a ditty for every occasion. It’s just that it’s not leading us anywhere.
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