Pet_Sounds

Lamento Boliviano - Los Enanitos Verdes

Apparently the lyrics reference Gabriel Gárcia Márquez's novel Crónica de una muerte anunciada, in particular the lines "Soy como una roca / Palabras no me tocan" and "Nena no te peines en la cama / Que los viajantes se van a atrasar". When I tried to read Gárcia Márquez I found my Spanish to be (severely) lacking, so I'm afraid I can't add any more detail than that. But it's a great song, and perhaps someone else can elaborate on the lirerary connection.

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Everybody's dying just to get the disease

Lisnaholic

^ Yes, nice song, Pet Sounds. I particularly liked the acoustic guitar interlude at 1:50 seconds. I read Márquez's novel, but so long ago that I can't help in tracing influences from novel to song I'm afraid.

I guess "noise" is a word with several nuances of meaning, Ayn. I wasn't using the word to mean volume, which was obviously mine to control. I wasn't particularly referring to distortion, which I am often quite fond of. I suppose by "noisy" I meant: I can't enjoy this because there are too many instruments playing too fast simultaneously. If there's a better word for that feeling, I'm open to suggestions.

Anyway, thanks to you both for contributing to a thread that doesn't get much attention.

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"Am I enjoying this moment? I know of it and perhaps that is enough." - Sybille Bedford, 1953

Ayn Marx

Thanks for the explanation. Often these things are very hard to describe with one word. As to my contribution I’m often annoyed with my fellow classical music lovers who refuse to see how serious a lot of metal is. There are far too many classical music lovers whose approach to music is a form of hiding from the real world. Odd, given there’s a long standing tradition, especially in Italian opera, of serious political criticism just below the surface.
Enough, I’m turning into a grumpy geriatric.

It’s just occurred to me there’s a real problem with a lot of live rock/metal/etc bands. Often each musician has their own feedback speaker aimed just at themselves. The irony is this started so musicians could hear themselves over the extreme volume of the entire group. Often the sad result is individuals have little clear idea of what the rest of the band is up to. How many times have we witnessed at live gigs one player waving at the sound mixer to up the volume of their own feedback speakers?
Interestingly very few live jazz performances suffer from the same problem.

Ayn Marx

"I'm like a rock / Words don't touch me" and "Baby, don't comb your hair in bed / The travelers are going to be late” ? ? ? ?

music_collector

I wonder if these individual feedback speakers are used with older acts in which the singer has lost his/her voice?

Frownland

Not hearing what the band is doing>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>not hearing what you're doing

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Studies show that when a given norm is changed in the face of the unchanging, the remaining contradictions will parallel the truth.

Lisnaholic

You probably won't recognise the title, Cielito Lindo, but I bet you'll recognise the swaying hook line: "Ay Ay Ay Ay, Canto y no llores":



Best known Mariachi song in the world, I should think, which is why, back in 1951, the local band in the Peruvian town of Cartavio had it on their playlist when they were hired to play by Cartavio's bigwigs. At the time, the local aristocracy were trying to diffuse tensions with the exploited workers of the town's sugar industry, and so they contrived a public party in the Main Square:



It's all there in Marie Arana's memoir, American Chica: Two Worlds, One Childhood.

My Verdict: It's a pity the song is so hackneyed that it's become a joke today. It has some sentimental lyrics about a girl identified as "Lovely Little Sky" but it's real power is in the the admonition of the chorus, "Ay, ay, ay! Sing and don't cry!". It's just the perfect drinking song for people who want to drown their sorrows. You can almost see the beer slopping out of their mugs as people sway and sing along. Highly recommended next time you are planning a roaring, squealing bacchanalia of your own.

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"Am I enjoying this moment? I know of it and perhaps that is enough." - Sybille Bedford, 1953

Lisnaholic

There's no way I'd go on a road trip with 51-year-old Deborah Lacks, but there is also no way in a zillion years that she ever would have invited me. It took intrepid science student and (now) published writer, Rebecca Skloot over a year of patience and sympathy to win Deborah's trust. Why was that worth doing? Well, read Rebecca Skloot's excellent book of science journalism, The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks and the question will be answered.

Meanwhile, back on those road trips: the starting point was Baltimore and the year was 2000/2001 :-



My Verdict: I was very surprised to hear an opening line that Van Morrison copied complete and used to make a song of his own. But after that spark of surprise, my interest in this song dwindled pretty fast, as it usually does with soul music. William Bell has a sincere-sounding, reassurring voice, but the song sounds like so many other ballads, helped along by strings and sax, in which a man sings about needing love, caring, holding on girl, etc, etc. It's a song clearly designed to win over a woman, which is perhaps why Deborah liked it and I don't. Still, in the context of a road trip, I can see this song fitting in very well: in a movie, it'll be that part where the initial excitement has passed and the people are just putting in the miles, no need for conversation, as the landscape is washed in beautiful afternoon sunlight, which slowly fades into the sadness of evening. I wonder if that was how it was for Deborah and Rebecca? Now only Rebecca knows, because Deborah died eight years after those road trips, aged 60.

R.I.P. Deborah Lacks, who, more than most people, was clearly in need of rest and peace during her lifetime.

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"Am I enjoying this moment? I know of it and perhaps that is enough." - Sybille Bedford, 1953