Thus rag’d the goddess; and, with fury fraught,
The restless regions of the storms she sought,
Where, in a spacious cave of living stone,
The tyrant Æolus, from his airy throne,
With pow’r imperial curbs the struggling winds,
And sounding tempests in dark prisons binds.
I hate to see prudence clinging to the green suckers of youth; ‘tis like ivy round a sapling, and spoils the growth of the tree.
Labradford – “David”
Fixed::Content
I had a minimalist music phase in college – when I discovered not every song needs to have drums, keyboards, bass, samples, voice, and so on. Labradford and Stars of the Lid are the main finds from that period, and Fixed::Content remains one of my go-to albums for days like today, when “real” songs just grate. Even though there are only four tracks on it, “David” still feels like a last farewell after the epic “Twenty.” Its pleasant synth washes and Labradford’s signature thoughtful plucking give it a sense of finality.
A wanton eye, a liquorish tongue, and a gamesome hand.
Many men neglect the tumults of the world, and care not for glory, and yet they are afraid of infamy, repulse, disgrace; they can severely contemn pleasure, bear grief indifferently, but they are quite battered and broken with reproach and obloquy (siqueidem vita et fama pari passu ambulant [seeing that life goes hand in hand with repute]), and are so dejected many times for some public injury, disgrace, as a box on the ear by their inferior, to be overcome of their adversary, foiled in the field, to be out in a speech, some foul act committed or disclosed, etc., that they dare not come abroad all their lives after, but melancholize in corners, and keep in holes.
…A mere madness, to live like a wretch, and die rich.
Unwound – “We Invent You”
Leaves Turn Inside You
The primary purpose of this track is to signal that something big is coming. That incredible noise, which, yes, does go on for a full two minutes, is like a priming coat for your ears, preparing them for this incredible and unique album. It’s a sign of a truly great band that they were able to encompass so many sounds and yet stay cohesive. Leaves Turn Inside You is definitely a milestone.
Horner: But I did not expect marriage from such a whoremaster as you; one that knew the town so much, and women so well.
Pinchwife: Why, I have married no London wife.
Horner: Pshaw! that’s all one. That grave circumspection in marrying a country wife, is like refusing a deceitful pampered Smithfield jade, to go and be cheated by a friend in the country.
Pinchwife: [Aside.] A pox on him and his simile!
The freedom of thought and speech arising from, and privileged by, our constitution, gives a force and poignancy to the expressions of our common people, not to be found under arbitrary governments where the ebullitions of vulgar wit are checked by the fear of the bastinado, or of a lodging during pleasure in some gaol or castle.
Gang Gang Dance – “Nomad For Love (Cannibal)”
God’s Money
The last “song” (more a movement) on this album, sandwiched between two scary and beautiful instrumental pieces. God’s Money is utterly insane all the way through, and definitely better than their poppier follow-up, Saint Dymphna (excluding that album’s opening one-two). It lives in the same totally self-contained world of early Espers, Oval, Charalambides, and other bands that created a world of their own for the space of an entire album or more. The cover art is fantastic as well.
Horner: Nay, madam, rather than they shall prejudice your honour, I’ll prejudice theirs; and, to serve you, I’ll lie with ‘em all, make the secret their own, and then they’ll keep it. I am a Machiavel in love, madam.
Lady Fidget: Oh, no, sir, not that way.
Horner: Nay, the devil take me, if censorious women are to be silenced any other way.
drugget: a coarse, shabby fabric of cotton or wool (from the French drogue, trash)
murrain: a plague, especially among cattle (from the French moraine, pestilence)
gymnosophist: one of a sect of Indian ascetics who refused themselves clothes
prorogue: to postpone, discontinue, or suspend a legal or legislative meeting
cruet: one or more small bottles or containers for oil, vinegar, salt, etc
fadge: to agree or succeed; or, a bale of wool under 100kg
epopee: an epic poem, or epic poetry in general
spilth: something that was spilled (clearly)
nanger: apparently a type of gazelle?
tomrig: a wild girl or tomboy
fumid: smoky or vaporous
froppish: testy or contrary
diffide: to act distrustfully
peckled: speckled
End of Chopin’s original of the Polonaise in A flat (Op. 53) (I love how he extended the bars)
Chopin – Piano Sonata No.2 (Op. 35) (Grave – Doppio movimento)
Another beautiful, breezy, endlessly surprising piano piece. I don’t know who’s playing, but from the powerful expression I’d guess it’s Horowitz. The variability seems almost improvisational, but it rewards repeated listening with wonderful motifs. But listening too closely to Chopin is like studying butterflies.
For, impartially speaking, the French are as much better critics than the English, as they are worse poets. Thus we generally allow that they better understand the management of a war than our islanders; but we know we are superior to them in the day of battle. They value themselves on their generals, we on our soldiers. But this is not the proper place to decide that question, if they make it one.
Horner: Doctor, there are quacks in love as well as physic, who get but the fewer and worse patients for their boasting; a good name is seldom got by giving it one’s self; and women, no more than honour, are compassed by bragging. Come, come, Doctor, the wisest lawyer never discovers the merits of his cause till the trial; the wealthiest man conceals his riches, and the cunning gamester his play. Shy huspands and keepers, like old rooks, are not to be cheated by a new unpractised trick: false friendship will pass now no more than false dice upon ‘em; no, not in the city.
It’s like Big Loader, Mouse Trap, Rube Goldberg, and Japan had a megababy. (HD)
