Posted on by amowpnas1

Música

ANTERIORS
EINSTEIN, ALFRED
Schubert
Música
p. 274
[Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert]
Es como si nuestros tres compositores hubieran querido plasmar en esto lo que significaba para ellos, en el fondo, la música: un momento de tiempo ordenado, rescatado a la eternidad y proyectado de nuevo hacia la misma eternidad.
març 2018
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2018/03/12/did-andrew-lloyd-webber-ruin-the-musical-or-rescue-it Adam Gopnik sobre els musicals opereta d’Anrew Lloyd Weber, que no tindrien el nervi dels clàssics
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/rabbit-holes/johnny-cashs-train-songs-are-the-only-thing-my-toddler-and-i-can-agree-on un pare que mira vídeos de trens amb el seu nen petit, les cançons de Johnny Cash.  without my having to explain why it is “not O.K., no matter what Uncle Johnny says,” to shoot a man in Reno just to watch him die.
John Adams: His works include Harmonielehre (1985), Short Ride in a Fast Machine (1986), On the Transmigration of Souls (2002), a choral piece commemorating the victims of the September 11, 2001 attacks (for which he won the Pulitzer Prize for Music in 2003), and Shaker Loops (1978), a minimalist four-movement work for strings.
Primavera Sound
The National
Father John Misty
Oumou Sangaré
Nick Cave Bad Seeds
Lorde
Nominats Grammy clàssica
• Concerto For Orchestra, Zhou Tian, [recorda Mahler]
• Adam Schoenberg, Schoenberg, Adam: American Symphony; Finding Rothko; Picture Studies [Mahler]
• Danielpour: Songs Of Solitude & War Songs
Jennifer Higdon, All Things Majestic, Viola Concerto & Oboe Concerto
Maria m’envia: Banho de folhas
https://slate.com/culture/2018/09/playing-changes-nate-chinen-review.html sobre la continuïtat dels estils de jazz: Playing changes: Jazz for the New Century
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2018/08/27/the-sounds-of-music-in-the-twenty-first-century la música, de l’avantguarda dels 70 i 80, tornant a la tonalitat els 90
Pop Nigèria
Cat Power Wanderer
Kendrick Lamar To PImp a Butterfly
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S75gYhODS0M happy birthday en diferents estils
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2018/11/19/reconsidering-the-harp l’arpa de Jeff Majors Mary Lattimore Manonmars
Ferran Plau: Blanc
weightless marconi union
electra angelumen
watermark enya
we can fly Rue du Soleil
https://www.stereogum.com/2024885/best-jazz-albums-2018/franchises/2018-in-review/  [millors àlbums de jazz: els he estat escoltant i són experimentals i avorrits]
Andrew Norman, contemporani
https://www.ranker.com  llistes votades per usuaris
yoyomas i cant dels ocells de Casals https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S6Xxb8K91ok
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/2018-in-review/the-ten-best-albums-of-2018 Cat Power NO Name Fatima Warner, Rosalía el Mal querer
2019
Grammys 2019: Cardi B album rap. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xTlNMmZKwpA
This is America Childish Gambino
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gp0giuC9IpI sessió Charlie Christian, I can’t believe 7’21
https://www.facebook.com/BlackJunctionSocial/videos/2259908610934332/ Sobre com els blancs s’apropien de la música dels negres
GRAMMYS 2019
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iqets2ZA1a4 Emancipation procrastination, instrumental, Christian Scott
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=op9E1fhyV2Y  Electric Messiah” — High On Fire (WINNER) Heavy metal
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mkK9fbw8YWs  Masseduction” — Jack Antonoff & Annie Clark, songwriters (St. Vincent)[OK]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Irewug5tXbs  “From The Fires” — Greta Van Fleet [OKOK]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cNnk_oOoLfs Bet Ain’t Worth The Hand” — Leon Bridges
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dvQl2Mc46V0  “Everything Is Love” — The Carters
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kw0ih4jPOBo “Space Cowboy” — Luke Laird, Shane McAnally & Kacey Musgraves (Country) [nyonya]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wCHk7lDo6hE  jazz solo Don’t Fence Me In” — John Daversa
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MyqSTCqbw8U  “Emanon” — The Wayne Shorter Quartet (jazz instrumental)
https://youtu.be/Z1O62_tUOLQ    sent for you yesterday Best Large Jazz Ensemble Album:“All About That Basie” — The Count Basie Orchestra Directed By Scotty Barnhart
“American Dreamers: Voices Of Hope, Music Of Freedom” — John Daversa Big Band Featuring DACA Artists (WINNER)
Latin jazz “Back To The Sunset”— Dafnis Prieto Big Band (WINNER)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=srGIp4LO-XM Gospel “Never Alone” — Tori Kelly Featuring Kirk Franklin; Kirk Franklin & Victoria Kelly, Songwriters (WINNER)
Christian music  “You Say” — Lauren Daigle; Lauren Daigle, Jason Ingram & Paul Mabury, songwriters (WINNER)
Gospel album “Hiding Place” — Tori Kelly (WINNER)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCm7-RGg6Tc Best Roots Gospel Album: “Unexpected” — Jason Crabb (WINNER)
mexican “¡México Por Siempre!” — Luis Miguel (WINNER)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J79qzM-tcsY tropical latin “Anniversary” — Spanish Harlem Orchestra (WINNER)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5r6A2NexF88 american roots “The Joke” Brandi Carlile (WINNER)
americana “By The Way, I Forgive You” — Brandi Carlile (WINNER)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G6OnMF20MrE  bluegrass “The Travelin’ McCourys” — The Travelin’ McCourys (WINNER)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FIn_gA2XwL0 trduitional blues “The Blues Is Alive and Well” — Buddy Guy (WINNER)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=djWziMwFVWw&list=PLbcerJq8u6Id_lTQjeWchQBHGrhY9r4LC contemporary blues  “Please Don’t Be Dead” — Fantastic Negrito (WINNER)
1vhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_iZEt2PpMI8&index=4&list=PLbcerJq8u6Id_lTQjeWchQBHGrhY9r4LC folk “All Ashore” — Punch Brothers (WINNER)
1vhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_iZEt2PpMI8&index=4&list=PLbcerJq8u6Id_lTQjeWchQBHGrhY9r4LC regional roots “No ‘Ane’i” — c (WINNER)
1vhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_iZEt2PpMI8&index=4&list=PLbcerJq8u6Id_lTQjeWchQBHGrhY9r4LC reggae “44/876” — Sting & Shaggy (WINNER)
1vhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_iZEt2PpMI8&index=4&list=PLbcerJq8u6Id_lTQjeWchQBHGrhY9r4LC  wolrd music “Freedom” — Soweto Gospel Choir (WINNER)
https://youtu.be/bLyMzgRjPbQ childeren “All The Sounds” — Lucy Kalantari & The Jazz Cats (WINNER)
https://youtu.be/mouW8XZ36L0 remixed “Walking Away (Mura Masa Remix)” — Alex Crossan, remixer (Haim) – WINNER
https://youtu.be/NNiie_zmSr8 immersive “Eye in The Sky – 35th Anniversary Edition” — Alan Parsons, surround mix engineer; Dave Donnelly, PJ Olsson & Alan Parsons, surround mastering engineers; Alan Parsons, surround producer (The Alan Parsons Project) – WINNER
música de cambra “Anderson, Laurie: Landfall” — Laurie Anderson & Kronos Quartet (WINNER)
“Kernis: Violin Concerto” — James Ehnes; Ludovic Morlot, conductor (Seattle Symphony) (WINNER)
Best Classical Compendium:
“Fuchs: Piano Concerto ‘Spiritualist’; Poems of Life; Glacier; Rush” — JoAnn Falletta, conductor; Tim Handley, producer
composició “Kernis: Violin Concerto” — Aaron Jay Kernis, composer (James Ehnes, Ludovic Morlot & Seattle Symphony) (WINNER)
https://youtu.be/Z1O62_tUOLQ    sent for you yesterday Count Basie orchestra grammy 2019
samurai
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4QtbHaEjAdM matsushita tenku no inoru prayer of the firmament
https://www.bbc.com/news/science-environment-47543875 El death metal inspira alegria i no violència segons una investigació.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H9fDj5I4gpk&list=RDnayYQXtddXE&index=3  solo bateria New Orleans  Herlin “Homey” Riley – Drums
https://youtu.be/zkORhAHXJ3o jazz per a nens narrat per Cannonball Adderley
You can read the full First Book of Jazz at Winter’s Flickr, where he has posted scans of every page història del jazz per Langston Hughes
Mac demarco, Indie / DJ SCREW  / Rammstein
Joao Gilberto, mort 6/7/2019  “He could read a newspaper and sound good,” Miles Davis once said of Gilberto’s tone. https://www.latimes.com/entertainment/music/la-et-ms-joao-gilberto-died-appreciation-pop-20190706-story.html
Brand Nubian. In God We Trust. 1993 – Elektra – DeChalus / Murphy / Isley / Isley
Jakub Józef Orliński – Countertenor: bona veu, guapo i capaç de fer breakdance
Kelee Patterson, Maiden Voyage 1973
Ugly God, rap
Babymetal japanese heavy metal
T42
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PkSdgAHgwo0 nat king cole i quincy jones
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S1nXDMycvKs clifford brown chet baker  <<<<
clake
Dan Tepfer Variacions Goldberg
Matthew Halsall, oneness
Freestyle Love Supreme
https://youtu.be/noTy5F4LsoU Milt Hinton, Jo Jones
LINDA CATLIN SMITH
willie dixon bassology https://youtu.be/UcqqyL-Y6Go
James romig still aslee mack https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tDHwgZFbDOs inspirat en el pintor clyfford still
Pharrell williams: Snoop dog drop it like it’s hot, gwen Stefani Hollaback girl, https://youtu.be/Kgjkth6BRRY Dafp punk get lucky https://youtu.be/5NV6Rdv1a3I
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R7XcAaVumgc onehtrix point never, daniel lopatin
TerryRiley In C
https://youtu.be/TgATVoTnAy8 jimmy heath sobre ben webster sabent les lletres de les cançons
Pinegrov
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3q8Od5qJio Du hast Rammstein [ho fan servir a les presons russes per apallisar els nou vinguts)
jazzmeia horn
Carlos Henriquez Bronx Pyramid
Chris Botti
Nigeria has been mourning music legend Victor Olaiya, who created Nigeria’s highlife rhythms and influenced a generation of musicians including Fela Anikulapo-Kuti. https://youtu.be/8Vv0BOGDH5E
WIllaert salmi spezzati
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/cultural-comment/grieving-with-brahms Ross sobre Brahms  I spent the flight listening to late-period works by Johannes Brahms: his two clarinet sonatas, his Clarinet Quintet and Trio, his final pieces for piano. I broke down in tears only once, when Radu Lupu, on his incomparable Decca recording of the later piano music, offered up the Intermezzo Opus 117, No. 1. //  I turned to Brahms because I always turn to Brahms, in moods bright or dark. I identify with the protagonist of Wallace Stevens’s “Anglais Mort à Florence,” for whom Brahms is a “dark familiar.” People who claim to find Brahms dry or dismal—it’s not an uncommon opinion, even among otherwise discerning music lovers—are speaking gibberish that I can’t debate, because I don’t understand a word. I find him the most companionable, the most sympathetic of composers. There is enormous sadness in his work, and yet it is a sadness that glows with understanding, that eases gloom by sharing its own. The music seems in a strange way to be listening to you, even as you listen to it. At a time when an uncommonly large number of people are experiencing grief, I recommend Brahms as a counsellor and confidant.//  I’m not proposing that this or any music should be used as a palliative. We rob the art form of its dignity when we treat it as a utility to manage our emotions. Philip Kennicott, in his new book “Counterpoint: A Memoir of Bach and Mourning,” speaks my mind: “I bristle at the idea that music is consoling or has healing power. It is a cliché of lazy music talk, the sort of thing said by people who give money to the symphony and have their names chiseled on the wall of the opera house.” It is also a cliché of the digital age, which routinely subjugates music to life-style needs: individual creative voices are bundled into playlists designed to help us wake up, focus, zone out, make love, and fall asleep. Kennicott continues, “Music, if anything, makes us raw, more susceptible to pain, nostalgia, and memory.” His lyrical and haunting book tells of how he immersed himself in Bach’s Goldberg Variations in the wake of his own mother’s death. The music guides him through the complexity of his feelings—his experience as a son was far more fraught than mine—and lets him emerge on the other side.// In the world of Brahms, it is, above all, always late. Light is waning, shadows are growing, silence is encroaching. The topic of lateness and loneliness in Brahms is a familiar one; the adjectives “autumnal” and “elegiac” follow him everywhere. Scholars have tried to parse Brahmsian melancholy in terms biographical, philosophical, and sociopolitical.//Opus 117, No. 1 begins with a lullaby of heartbreaking simplicity and purity, but it gives way to a middle section of brooding, bass-excavating arpeggios, and when the lullaby returns it is embroidered, dispersed, distanced from reality. Before the final cadence, it comes to a halt, as if silently shuddering. //The idea that there is something surreptitiously radical about Brahms is hardly new. In 1933, Arnold Schoenberg delivered a lecture titled “Brahms the Progressive,” describing how his predecessor’s intricate developmental techniques influenced his own modernist methods. There are moments in Brahms when the entire tonal system seems to be hanging by a thread. This happens especially in some of the late piano pieces, when stable tonal progressions grow scarce and you feel an abyss opening underneath a calm surface. The atmosphere of fragility is of a piece with Brahms’s skepticism toward organized religion, his almost existential sense of the human condition. He pondered the tremendous questions that Schopenhauer and Nietzsche raised in their philosophical writing, though he did not necessarily accept their answers.
https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/where-indian-villagers-have-musical-names un poble indi on les mares inventen melodies per anomenar els nens
Música R&B PAUL GAYTEN
https://youtu.be/n_EBVJcGG3M JLCO Jelly Roll Morton amb Aaron Diehl, Sullivan Fortner, Joel Wenhardt
Micah Thomas
https://youtu.be/tVuWAocX-9E JLCO Big bands, Don Redman
https://youtu.be/vlwSKbz_U4U JLCO Billy Strayhorn
https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-54041568 peça de JOhn Cage que ha de durar 600 anys
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BTCSsml_A4s verzuz projecte que posa dos artistes de hiphop un al costat de l’altre
https://songexploder.net/episodes podcast sobre  com estan fetes les cançons
JLCO Monk
Gata Cattana, rapera i poeta
http://www.bbc.com/travel/story/20210106-kulning-a-hypnotic-swedish-singing-tradition kulning és el cant dels pastors suecs per fe venir les vaques, i hauria influït en Frozen. Aquesta seria l’autèntica Elsa
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2021/01/18/a-road-trip-with-david-hockney-and-richard-wagner una playlist associada amb un recorregut per carretera, David Hockney i Wagner
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2021/02/08/audrey-hepburns-favorite-song dibuixant com Pal Chambers va compondre una cançó per a Audrey Hepburn
Grammys 2021: Burna boy Wizkid  https://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-56350432  BTS korea // Anderson paak https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NLctj2iNif4 chick corea all blues
Ahir, catorze de març, pels matemàtics va ser el dia pi 3.14, per alguns afortunats hi va haver un concert extraordinari del Chino a la Iguana dins del Cocoa 2021, i pels amants de la música en general es van concedir els premis grammy, entre ells dues categories de blues. Us convidem a escoltar els guanyadors i a explorar la resta de nominats.
Blues tradicional: Rawer Than Raw, Bobby Rush https://youtu.be/-SF3E94aakM
Nominats: Frank Bey, All My Dues Are Paid. Don Bryant, You Make Me Feel. Robert Cray, That’s What I Heard. Jimmy “Duck” Holmes, Cypress Grove.
Blues contemporani: Have You Lost Your Mind Yet?, Fantastic Negrito https://youtu.be/6boFZf95_Jw
Nominats: Ruthie Foster, Live At The Paramount. G. Love, The Juice. Bettye LaVette, Blackbirds. North Mississippi Allstars,
Up And Rolling
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2021/03/15/genre-is-disappearing-what-comes-next la classificació de la música en gèneres, audiències blanca i negra.  jamaican dancehall  https://youtu.be/Cc7M0i78wrU , mamie smith crazy blues, Lil Nas X Old town road https://youtu.be/w2Ov5jzm3j8  rap caviar a Spotify
Mar Serra Grup
Wolff became an American citizen in 1946. When he was sixteen (in 1950) his piano teacher Grete Sultan sent him for lessons in composition to the new music composer John Cage. Wolff soon became a close associate of Cage and his artistic circle which was part of the New York School and included the fellow composers Earle Brown and Morton Feldman, the pianist David Tudor, and the dancer and choreographer Merce Cunningham. Cage relates several anecdotes about Wolff in his one-minute Indeterminacy pieces
Schumann Fantasiastücke
Fauré sonata per violí no.1 A M
Fauré, Berceuse op.16 violí i piano
Couperin baricades misterieuses
Fauré: Fauré: Trois Mélodies, Op.7: Après un rêve cello i piano
Fauré, Nocturne No. 6 in D-Flat, Op. 63
Reynaldo Hahn à CLoris, 7 Chansons grises: V. L’Heure exquise
https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20210628-aint-no-way-one-of-our-most-misunderstood-love-songs Ain’t no way, una cançó de Carolyn Franklin que podria ser una cançó d’amor queer  , https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-M068hBBaOw les dues germanes a l’estudi
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2021/07/05/questloves-summer-of-soul-pulses-with-long-silenced-beats
Wonder, Mahalia Jackson, Nina Simone, Sly and the Family Stone, B. B. King, Hugh Masekela, David Ruffin—as thin as a barber’s pole, in a pink bow tie, with a falsetto sent from God—and Gladys Knight and the Pips. Especially the Pips. Their curveting dance routines, around a single microphone, are a thing of calibrated beauty. (We long to know more, and Thompson, an ace of the educative cutaway, obliges by bringing in Knight. She credits the band’s choreographer, Cholly Atkins, who schooled them for ten or eleven hours a day.) Then, there’s the gleeful confession of Ray Barretto, bespectacled and busy at his drums: “In my blood I got Black—and white—red—Puerto Rican—Indian. I’m all messed up
At the risk of blasphemy, I reckon that the clothes in “Summer of Soul” are very nearly as entertaining as the music. The cravats! The fringes! The hectic ruffs! Lawrence, as befits the master of ceremonies, sports an ever-changing cycle of outfits, including a white lace top with a carmine vest, and a shiny shirt that looks like an explosion in a host of golden daffodils. Imagine the envious glances he would have drawn at the court of Louis XIV.
David Ruffin:
Gladys Knight and the Pips: https://youtu.be/WWvwP72FuVg, https://youtu.be/nl_5YUO5b4c
Maytals Louie Louie:
Bernie Cummins
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eFt4eGwMqNI   new orleans funk
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zt2zeG1ii3Y billy may
deux filles, música ambient de 1982 de dos músic de londres que es van fer passar per dues noies franceses amb una història tràgica : https://youtu.be/gs-tOKjS0XQ
Regina Carter
Gerard Clayton
Massive Attack ‘Blue Lines’
P.M. Dawn ‘Of the Heart, Of the Soul, and of the Cross’
https://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-58329477 one republic, i el fet que la majoria de música que es descarrega no es la que es fa ara sinó més antiga. Cada dia es pugen 62000 cançons a spotify
Michelle Zander Jubilee https://youtu.be/aA5l2qsX_O8
https://youtu.be/fHI8X4OXluQ  blinding lights,90 setmanes no 1 ??
the Solo Performances of Hasaan Ibn Ali Expand the History of Jazz
The pianist’s “Retrospect In Retirement Of Delay” is a historic outpouring of musical imagination.
As a teen-ager, Hasaan was already an artist among artists and, in his early twenties, was a recognized innovator.
The pianist and composer Hasaan Ibn Ali is an unduly elusive presence in the history of jazz. His first album, with a trio, was released in 1965; his second, with a quartet, recorded later that year, wasn’t released until early in 2021. Both showed him to be a distinctive and original musician, but what they offered, above all, was the sound of possibility, of unfulfilled potential. The new release of Hasaan’s “Retrospect In Retirement Of Delay: The Solo Recordings” (Omnivore Recordings), which features him in privately recorded performances from 1962 to 1965, reveals his profundity, his overwhelming power, his mighty virtuosity. It does more than put him on the map of jazz history—it expands the map to include the vast expanse of his musical achievement.
Hasaan was something of a legend in Philadelphia, but played little elsewhere. His solo recordings were made by David Shrier and Alan Sukoenig, two jazz-aficionado undergraduates at the University of Pennsylvania who’d befriended him. He visited them at the university and allowed them to record him playing pianos in dormitory and student-union lounges as well as in Shrier’s apartment and in a New York apartment to which Hasaan summoned Sukoenig and his tape recorder. Those circumstances sound ripe for music of modest intimacy; instead, what Hasaan played is torrential. (The sense of short-term urgency is reflected in the amazing fact that nine of the tracks, including the four longest of them, were all recorded on the same day—October 25, 1964—at three different venues.) The album’s twenty piano performances emerge like contents under pressure, like furies of musical imagination that had been building up within Hasaan for a long time, as if he knew that he was playing on the biggest stage of all: the stage of eternity.
Born in Philadelphia in 1931, and performing originally as William Langford, a modified version of his given name (his parents spelled the family name “Lankford”), Hasaan gigged there in the late forties and early fifties with the city’s rising young musicians, including John Coltrane, four years his senior, who is said to have studied with Hasaan. (Later, Hasaan reportedly claimed that Coltrane had stolen his ideas.) In other words, as a teen-ager Hasaan was already an artist among artists and, in his early twenties, was a recognized innovator. His approach to music was so unusual that, despite the place of honor he won among the city’s greats (including Philly Joe Jones, Benny Golson, Jimmy Heath, and the brothers Bill and Kenny Barron), his professional and commercial opportunities were limited. Hasaan lived his entire life in Philadelphia and did much of his performing, according to the saxophonist Odean Pope, in private: “At night, after he got dressed, there were three or four houses he would visit, where they had pianos. The people would serve him coffee or cake, give him a few cigarettes or maybe a couple of dollars from time to time.” In the early sixties, at a time when his musical peers were already famous and already amply recorded, Hasaan—in his thirties—was being recorded by students with amateur equipment. (His first album, “The Max Roach Trio Featuring the Legendary Hasaan,” was recorded in December, 1964; the long-unissued quartet album, “Metaphysics,” is also an Omnivore Recordings release.)
What’s most miraculous about the preservation of Hasaan’s solo performances and the survival of the tapes is the artistry displayed in the performances themselves. The astonishments of the new album begin with the very first notes of the first track, the standard “Falling In Love With Love,” which Hasaan begins with a jaunty, tango-like bass riff that recurs throughout like a one-hand big-band accompaniment. That percussive figure maintains a rhythmic foundation that prompts Hasaan to cut loose with crystalline, florid barrages of high notes in shifting forms and meters that cascade and swirl and swarm in ever more daringly chromatic and far-reaching harmonies. Hasaan had worked out, a decade earlier, a so-called system by which he’d use substitute chords that both vastly varied yet recognizably retained the composition’s original framework. This is what Coltrane is believed to have derived from their time together, and the wild profusion of notes unleashed by Hasaan’s right hand, like a skyful of brilliant stars scattered by the fistful, is indeed reminiscent of what the critic Ira Gitler famously termed Coltrane’s “sheets of sound.”
With tacit but manifest audacity, Hasaan appears to be self-consciously claiming his place in the history of jazz, picking up gauntlets thrown by the greats—playing a thirteen-minute version of “Body and Soul,” which Coleman Hawkins made the culminating solo of the swing era in 1939; a ten-minute version of “Cherokee,” the tune that first brought Charlie Parker fame and that is identified with the birth of bebop; selections from Miles Davis’s repertory (“On Green Dolphin Street” and “It Could Happen to You”); and Thelonious Monk’s “Off Minor.” Hasaan introduces “Body and Soul” with a new countermelody of his own that helps him break up the familiar tune so surprisingly that, twenty seconds in, the interpretation is already historic. He turns the Rodgers and Hart waltz “Lover” into a fifteen-minute up-tempo romp with a syncopation of its melody that becomes the dominant stomping figure of his bass line while his right hand throws off barrages of rapid-fire scintillations that subdivides measures into infinitesimals. In a thirteen-minute expatiation on the harmonically complex ballad “It Could Happen to You,” Hasaan turns the clichés of melodramatic tremolos into a percussively thunderous rumble; amid shimmering storms of high notes, he returns to the melody with a sudden stop-and-fragment-and-restart that’s both breathtakingly dramatic and side-shakingly funny.
The outpouring of physical energy and display of intellectual stamina in these extended performances is matched by Hasaan’s inexhaustible inventiveness and far-ranging inspiration. The succession within each song of so many differently shaped, differently toned, sharply etched, flamboyantly characterized figures suggests a musical imagination of seemingly infinite variety, which is all the more astounding for its blend of uninhibited freedom and meticulous tethering to the melodies and structures of the compositions themselves. Hasaan’s hands are nearly quicker than the ears—the astounding speed of his playing is balanced only by the crystalline precision that makes each note stand out with a gem-like gleam. The experience of listening to these twenty extended solos is relentless, emotionally overwhelming, nearly vicariously exhausting in the experience of feeling a musician tap so deeply into himself and unleash such mighty forces. (Touchingly, one brief supplementary track features Hasaan singing one of his own compositions.)
It seems to me no mere happenstance that Hasaan’s mighty, mural-like musical self-portrait in real time comes in the form of solo piano. In his trio and quartet recordings, the accompaniment of bass and drums seems to inhibit him, to channel his solos into forms that would accommodate the musicians’ interpretations (however splendid) of the essentials of rhythm and harmony that he generated for himself, copiously and ingeniously, with his own two hands. His musical concept comes off as comprehensive, mercurial, eruptive—not that of a chamber musician but that of a one-person orchestra. He provides more than the intimate image of a musical mind at work; he conveys the galvanic sense of a heroically physical musical battle against time.
Hasaan’s career went from decrescendo to catastrophe. Disheartened by his truncated recording career, Sukoenig writes in his richly informative liner notes, Hasaan became withdrawn. He was living with his parents when their house caught fire, killing his mother, leaving his father incapacitated, consuming Hasaan’s compositions, and leaving him mentally debilitated. He was housed in a group home, was in drug treatment, had a devastating stroke, and died in 1980, at the age of forty-nine. In a 1978 interview that Sukoenig quotes, Roach (who died in 2007) said that he made home recordings of Hasaan when the pianist visited him: “I have hours of him playing solo piano that’s unbelievable.” Sukoenig says, however, that no other recordings, commercial or private, of Hasaan have surfaced. In any case, “Retrospect In Retirement Of Delay” proves that Hasaan was no might-have-been—he was, he is among the handful of greats.
Richard Brody
https://www.bbc.com/news/business-59878572 Creació de cançons amb AI, Boomy https://boomy.com/, partitures en un servidor que s’actualitza a tots els membres de l’orquestra.
Ronnie Spector
Oddly classless and placeless, they were less angry rockers than nerdy but cool transatlantic archivists, cleverly raiding the blues and folk traditions to patch together some of their own best songs—“Rock and Roll” (the famous drum intro was inspired by a Little Richard song), “Babe I’m Gonna Leave You” (they got it from Joan Baez), “I Can’t Quit You Baby” (from Willie Dixon), “Whole Lotta Love” (Dixon again), “The Lemon Song” (from Howlin’ Wolf), “When the Levee Breaks” (from Memphis Minnie and Kansas Joe McCoy).
If half the group’s energy was proto-punk destruction, the other half was musically refined restoration: it was the world’s most brilliantly belated blues band. Its violence tore things apart which its musicianship put back together. In this respect, Led Zeppelin was the opposite of punk, whose anarchic negation was premised on not being able to play one’s instrument well, or, in some cases, at all. But Page was already one of London’s most successful session guitarists, and a member of the group the Yardbirds, when, in the summer of 1968, he began to pick the members of his new group, aiming for a declaration of musical supremacy. Led Zeppelin, that is, functioned first and foremost as a collection of great musicians.
Page, then twenty-four, chose a fellow session player, John Paul Jones, as the group’s bassist (after toying with the idea of poaching the Who’s John Entwistle). Jones, who grew up in Kent, was one of the few bassists in London who, in his own words, could “play a Motown feel convincingly in those days.” Dexterous, imaginative, mobile, Jones is always sharking around at the bottom of the score, hunting for rhythmic tension and tonal complexity. His parts, in songs like “Ramble On” and “What Is and What Should Never Be,” are pungent melodies in their own right.
John Bonham, like Robert Plant, was from farther north, near Birmingham. When Page came calling, Bonham and Plant were jobbing musicians, barely out of their teens, doing the circuits at provincial pubs and halls. On July 20, 1968, Page was in the audience when Plant performed at a teachers’ training college in Walsall with a group of little distinction called Obs-Tweedle. Ambitious and calculating, Page surely understood what he had found in his singer and his drummer, though even he couldn’t know that in a few short years Bonham would establish himself as one of the world’s greatest drummers, perhaps the greatest in rock history. He had a comprehensive collection of percussive talents: speed and complexity rendered with a forbiddingly flawless technique; an instantly identifiable and original sound (best I can tell, the celebrated Bonham snare makes a dry bark in part because he seems to have hit the more resonant edge of the skin rather than the buzzier center); a wonderful feel for the groove of a song.
Spitz’s biography situates Led Zeppelin’s formation in the context of the nineteen-sixties English scene. Those skinny white boys with big heads and dead eyes were obsessed with American music, and with the blues above all. It was difficult to get hold of blues albums in England. You might wait a month for something to arrive from the States. Mick Jagger hung around the basement annex at Dobell’s Record Shop, on the Charing Cross Road, waiting for shipments. Jagger, Page, Keith Richards, and Brian Jones eagerly travelled from London to Manchester, in October, 1962, to see John Lee Hooker, Memphis Slim, and Willie Dixon play on the same stage: the adoration of the Magi.
Listen to Eric Burdon and the Animals performing their 1968 slow blues song “As the Years Go Passing By,” and you’ll hear Burdon, born not in Mississippi but in Newcastle Upon Tyne, in 1941, solemnly intoning, “Ah, the blues, the ball and chain that is round every English musician’s leg.”
Page—who wrote most of the group’s music, as Plant wrote most of the lyrics—had no intention of being imprisoned by the blues. He wanted to treat them with a strange and never previously attempted alloy of hard rock and acoustic folk. Acoustic alternating with electric; quiet verses and hard choruses—many of the best-known Led Zeppelin songs, like “Babe I’m Gonna Leave You,” “Ramble On,” and “Stairway to Heaven,” adhere to a sort of velvet-followed-by-fist form. Some of the gentler ones, such as the sweet-natured “Thank You,” a favorite of mine, or the lovely Joni Mitchell tribute “Going to California,” are all velvet. Spitz puts it well when he says that Led Zeppelin “claimed new musical territory by narrowing the distance between genres.”
Already experienced in the studio, Page seems to have known precisely what sounds he wanted, and he worked fast. The band recorded its first album, untitled and known as “Led Zeppelin I,” in September, 1968, in London. Page paid for the sessions, and the whole album was recorded in thirty-six hours.
On those first four albums are most of the band’s major songs, the ones that have dominated the past fifty years, including “Black Dog,” “Stairway to Heaven,” “Whole Lotta Love,” and “Dazed and Confused.” Listeners clamored for this music; by 1973, Spitz tells us, the band’s revenue constituted thirty per cent of the turnover of its label, Atlantic Records. The professionals were harder to convince. Mick Jagger and George Harrison hated the début album.
Through the years, the band has been sued or petitioned by Willie Dixon (“Whole Lotta Love” took words from Dixon’s “You Need Love”), Howlin’ Wolf (“The Lemon Song” borrowed its opening riff and some lyrics from his “Killing Floor”), Anne Bredon (who wrote the original song that Joan Baez, and then Led Zeppelin, made famous as “Babe I’m Gonna Leave You”), and the band Spirit, whose “Taurus” contains a passage that indeed sounds “suspiciously close” to the opening chords of “Stairway to Heaven” (though Spirit lost a lawsuit it brought in 2016).
Page has certainly been parsimonious with credit-sharing, and, in at least one case, shabbily slow to do the right thing—he should have credited the American performer Jake Holmes, who created the musical basis for “Dazed and Confused,” on “Led Zeppelin I.” (Holmes sued and won a settlement in 2011.) But the blues evolved as an ecosystem of borrowing and recycling. The musical form cleaves to the twelve-bar template of I-IV-I-V-IV-I. Musically, you need some or all of this chord progression to cook up anything that feels bluesy, as a roux demands flour and fat, or a whodunnit a murder; originality in this regard would be something of a category error.
Robert Plant’s tendency to lift words and formulas from old songs should be seen in this light. Plagiarism is private subterfuge made haplessly public. But to take Willie Dixon’s “You’ve got yearnin’ and I got burnin’ ” and put the words into “Whole Lotta Love” as “You need cooling / Baby, I’m not fooling”; to reverse the opening lines of Moby Grape’s 1968 song “Never,” from “Working from eleven / To seven every night / Ought to make life a drag,” and put them into “Since I’ve Been Loving You” as “Workin’ from seven to eleven every night / Really makes life a drag”; to punctuate “The Lemon Song,” which is obviously indebted to Howlin’ Wolf’s “Killing Floor,” with the repeated allusion “down on this killing floor,” while guilelessly referring to Roosevelt Sykes’s “She Squeezed My Lemon” (1937)—to make these moves, in a musical community that was utterly familiar with all the source material, testifies not to the anxiety of plagiarism but to the relaxedness of homage.
Plagiarists do what they do out of weakness, because they need stolen assistance. Does that sound like Led Zeppelin? The genius of “Whole Lotta Love” lies in its opening five-note riff, which has no obvious musical connection to Dixon’s song.
Besides, Led Zeppelin did credit many of its sources. The first album names Willie Dixon as the composer of “You Shook Me” and “I Can’t Quit You Baby.” Generally, on the matter of homage and appropriation, I agree with Jean-Michel Guesdon and Philippe Margotin, who, in “Led Zeppelin: All the Songs,” call the band’s version of the latter song “one of the most beautiful and moving tributes ever paid by a British group to its African American elders.”
Tellingly, we learn that the band behaved much better in Britain than in America. At home, Page said, “your family” would come along to the shows. “But when we went out to the States, we didn’t give a fuck and became total showoffs.” It was 1973, and they had reached the high altar. Referring to Plant, Spitz breathlessly annotates the American moment: “What a life! He was the lead singer of the most successful rock ’n’ roll band in the world. He had all the money he’d ever need, a loving family back home, unlimited girls on the road. Every need, every whim taken care of. Not a care in the world. The city of Los Angeles stretched out before him like a magic carpet.”
The funniest boys-gone-wild detail in the book may be that, in the first year and a half of the band’s existence, Bonham bought twenty-eight cars.
Grant had essentially bullied exceptionally favorable terms from promoters, who were commanded to pay in cash, partly to avoid punitive British taxes. The band journeyed throughout the United States accompanied by sacks stuffed with hundreds of thousands of dollars. Drugs followed the money. Grant was a coke addict by 1972; he helped himself to bags of the stuff. Jimmy Page soon caught up, and eventually added heroin. Although Page’s addiction appears to have turned him sleepy and sloppy—benignly vampiric, he slept during the day and palely loitered at night—drugs and alcohol made Bonham, seemingly sweet-natured when sober, an energetic monster. At one point, he bit a woman’s finger for no apparent reason, drawing blood. The reader of Spitz’s book becomes inured to the horrors that “Bonzo” would inflict, including near-rapes of women, random assaults, repellent practical jokes: “On the overnight train to Osaka, he drank himself silly again, and while Jimmy and his Japanese girlfriend were in the dining car, Bonzo found her handbag and shit in it.”
Still, it’s unsettling when Page, at twenty-nine, takes up with a fourteen-year-old named Lori Mattix. “He was the rock-god prince to me,” she recalled, “a magical, mystical person. . . . It was no secret he liked young girls.” Page phoned Mattix’s mother to get the O.K., in what he seems to have imagined was an act of gallantry, whereupon Betty Iannaci, a receptionist at Atlantic Records, was tasked with collecting Mattix from a Westwood motel room. Iannaci recounts, “It was clear that her mother was grooming her for a night out with Jimmy Page. And I knew he was mixing it up with heroin.”
Meanwhile, the recorded music was in decline. Listen to “Custard Pie,” or “The Wanton Song,” from the band’s 1975 album, “Physical Graffiti.” Compared with the nervous heavy swing, the brutish dance of the early music, these are monotonous, grounded stomps. “Kashmir,” from the same record, has an interesting enough chord progression, but no one ever wished it longer. The starship had crashed to earth. The band’s last proper album, “In Through the Out Door,” was released in 1979, and, although it was an immense commercial success, offered little of musical value.
(1979) A year later, John Bonham died in his sleep, after drinking forty shots of vodka, and Led Zeppelin promptly died with him.
That’s the good satanism. What about the actual diabolical activity—the violence, the rape, the pillage, the sheer wastage of lives? Jimmy Page was a devoted follower of the satanic “magick” of Aleister Crowley, whose Sadean permissions can be reduced to one decree: “There is no law beyond do what thou wilt.” If the predetermined task of rock gods and goddesses is to sacrifice themselves on the Dionysian altar of excess so that gentle teen-agers the world over don’t have to do it themselves—which seems to be the basic rock-and-roll contract—then the lives of these deities are never exactly wasted, especially when they are foreshortened.
In this sense, it would seem as if the music can’t easily be separated from its darkest energies. But it would be nice if the sacrifice were limited only to self-sacrifice and didn’t involve less willing partners. And surely all kinds of demonic and powerful art, including many varieties of music, both classical and popular, have been created by people who didn’t live demonically. What about Flaubert’s mantra about living like a bourgeois in order to create wild art? In Led Zeppelin’s case, the great music, the stuff that is still violently radical, was made early in the band’s career, when its members were most sober. The closer the band got to actual violence, the tamer the music became. So perhaps the music can be separated from its darker energies.
Chopin’s Nocturne No. 7, in C-sharp minor, begins with a low, ashen sound: a prowling arpeggio in the left hand, consisting only of C-sharps and G-sharps. It’s a hollowed-out harmony, in limbo between major and minor. Three bars in, the right hand enters on E, seemingly establishing minor, but a move to E-sharp clouds the issue, pointing toward major. Although the ambiguity dissipates in the measures that follow, a nimbus of uncertainty persists. Something even eerier happens in the tenth bar. The melody abruptly halts on the leading tone of B-sharp while the left hand gets stuck in another barren pattern—this one incorporating the notes D, A, and C-sharp. It’s almost like a glitch, a frozen screen. Then comes a moment of wistful clarity: an immaculate phrase descends an octave, with a courtly little turn on the fourth step of the scale. It is heard only once more before it disappears. I always yearn in vain for the tune’s return: a sweetly murmuring coda doesn’t quite make up for its absence. Ultimate beauty always passes too quickly.
In a program note for his recording, Hough remarks that the Nocturnes are a “corpus of some of the finest operatic arias ever written.” The observation is hardly novel; Chopin’s love of bel-canto opera has been noted innumerable times. Yet I’m not sure if any pianist on record has fleshed out the link as thoroughly and as persuasively as Hough has.
In a 1943 letter to the conductor Serge Koussevitzky, she introduced herself thus: “My dear Dr. Koussevitzky, To begin with I have two handicaps—those of sex and race. I am a woman; and I have some Negro blood in my veins.”
Veloso’s greatest inspiration was a Bahian by the name of João Gilberto. In 1959, when Veloso was seventeen, Gilberto released the album “Chega de Saudade,” which introduced a style called bossa nova. The music featured intricate yet understated harmonies, sly dissonances, and a repertoire of rediscovered Brazilian songs that had fallen into obscurity. “It was a new old sound,” Veloso told me. Bossa nova became an international sensation, particularly in the U.S., but Veloso experienced it as a private epiphany.
Other encounters in Salvador were less poetic but more eventful. Walking down Rua Chile one afternoon, Veloso bumped into the most important collaborator of his artistic life: Gilberto Gil, a buoyant Black musician with sharp, arching eyebrows and the charged air of a revolutionary. Gil was a prodigy of limitless interests and played the guitar unlike anyone Veloso had ever seen. They were the same age, and were united by a fascination with the Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, and the blues. “I learned how to play the guitar by imitating the positions of Gil’s hands,” Veloso said.
Veloso retreated from the factionalism, watching the march in disgust from the window of a hotel room, where he sat with the singer Nara Leão, known as “the muse of bossa nova.” As the crowds chanted “Down with the electric guitar,” she turned to Veloso and said, “This looks like a fascist march.”
The responses to Tropicália weren’t always so enthusiastic. The movement came to include the work of poets, filmmakers, and visual artists who put on provocative concerts, performances, and exhibitions, all meant to goad Brazilians and to expose them to the influences of the wider world. Veloso elicited violent reactions from students and doctrinaire activists on the left. He had grown his hair out and wore crop tops and tight-fitting pants that emphasized his androgynous features; he and his sister Bethânia looked identical. At one event, Veloso appeared in a green-and-black plastic jumpsuit, his chest covered in necklaces made of electrical wires. He did an erotic dance while reciting a mystical poem by the Portuguese writer Fernando Pessoa. The louder the crowds booed, the more intensely he writhed. A group of frequent collaborators, the rock band Os Mutantes, who were playing beside him, turned their backs to the audience. Gil jumped onstage to stand next to Veloso in solidarity. Abandoning the poem, Veloso shouted, “So you’re the young people who say they want to take power! If you’re the same in politics as you are in music, we’re done for.”
That year, Veloso released his first record, with Gal Costa. It was the work of someone still in thrall to bossa nova.
On December 13, 1968, the military introduced Institutional Order No. 5, which shut down Congress and authorized the government to detain and torture anyone it considered subversive of the public order. Veloso, who was then twenty-six, was writing songs such as “É Proibido Proibir” (“It’s Prohibited to Prohibit”), with his leftist detractors in mind.
Depression and homesickness marked Veloso’s years in Britain, where Dedé lived with him. He learned English haltingly, and he socialized almost exclusively with Brazilians, who reinforced his sense of dislocation. “London represented for me a period of utter vulnerability,” he wrote in his memoir, “Tropical Truth.”  // It also helped that English record producers loved the way he played the guitar. In Brazil, he’d felt self-conscious alongside so many technical virtuosos. In London, he said, “I lost my sense of embarrassment.”
Inspiration strikes frequently but unpredictably for Veloso. Most of the time he begins a composition with a sound in his ears that he calls “sung words.” It can be a phrase, a single idea, a reference. But he knows he’s onto something when the words are attached to a scrap of melody. When that happens, he usually follows the melody through as it unspools, singing it to himself before the rest of the lyrics start to materialize. Often, when he finally fetches a guitar, he told me, “I have already sung a little piece of the song, and I know what chords will go along with it.”
One of his most interesting albums is “Noites do Norte,” or “Northern Nights,” which took its name from a text written by the nineteenth-century Brazilian abolitionist Joaquim Nabuco. Veloso set Nabuco’s words to music, then built around them with compositions of his own. Slavery was abolished in Brazil in 1888; until then, Bahia had been a major hub of the country’s slave trade.
Veloso never learned to read or write music. He arranges some of his songs himself, but others require help. “Caetano shows me a song on his guitar, and sings three or four phrases—I make notes and go home,” Jaques Morelenbaum, a cellist, composer, and arranger told me.
The album “Livro,” for which Veloso won a Grammy in 1999, was a direct response to “Quiet Nights,” by Miles Davis and Gil Evans.  He sambas, in the Santo Amaro style.
Hal Blaine https://youtu.be/_Y4tVH4aHfE    bateria
lata mangeshkar
Carmell Jones https://youtu.be/3IrQCj-CqSs
Harlan Leonard 2 juliol    https://youtu.be/tOp0khfJ1UY   https://youtu.be/HRLQ_UTKM6Y https://youtu.be/5K94LYCVXas
st Louis Jimmy   https://youtu.be/A_70mdkHMB4
little brother montgomery  https://youtu.be/RtD2iP2kJ7M
Ira Sullivan https://youtu.be/I-BmYoYlc0M trompeta
Wardell gray https://youtu.be/3EpCPfvJZ2M saxo bebop
Carl perkins  https://youtu.be/n50-cG-e-9o piano
Joe albany  https://youtu.be/3n2TMauCv7U piano suau
chico hamilton zen https://youtu.be/47EYASOeCBI Katz up que ja tinc
Jesse Fuller https://youtu.be/uBME_J0pf3o blues
Blue Mitchell https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_maQD1GbjtrgsT8RR3s7FORNlwORbWd3y4
Donald Byrd https://youtu.be/6Bh84TRKGBw
Jimmy Mcparland https://youtu.be/NKUKQKzFSN0
sidney de Paris https://youtu.be/YO7TnJqK9vE
Ted Cuson https://youtu.be/wcBd6NXny9U
George Russel lydian tonal impro
mjq
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2022/03/14/music-fills-the-rothko-chapel  In a space of abyssal stillness, Tyshawn Sorey conducted his gripping new work. https://youtu.be/dv6tWCLh8cQ  https://www.tyshawnsorey.com/media
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/rosalia-levels-up-as-a-global-pop-superstar
The Spanish pop star Rosalía is the rarest kind of modern musician: a relentlessly innovative aesthetic omnivore who also happens to have a decade of Old World, genre-specific formal training under her belt. As a teen-ager living on the outskirts of Barcelona, she was introduced to flamenco music by a group of friends from Andalusia, a region in the south of Spain where the style originated. Hearing the music of the flamenco giant Camarón de la Isla, she once told El Mundo, made her feel as if her “head exploded.” The discovery prompted Rosalía to throw her entire being into the practice of flamenco, an elemental genre built around hand-clapping, acoustic guitar, and a fierce and improvisational vocal style. She took flamenco dance classes; she learned guitar and piano, and, most important, she enrolled at the Catalonia College of Music, under the tutelage of the decorated flamenco singer and teacher Chiqui de la Línea.
Her first major-label production, “El Mal Querer” (“Bad Love”), from 2018, was a high-concept reinvention of flamenco that she began working on as a school project, with each song based on a chapter from a medieval romance novel called “Flamenca.” On the record, she took the bones of flamenco—acoustic guitar, vocals, and rhythmically complex handclaps, or palmas—and augmented them with experimental electronic flourishes and flavors of R. & B. (One song, “Bagdad,” is an interpolation of Justin Timberlake’s “Cry Me a River.”) “El Mal Querer”—recorded entirely in Spanish—sounded like nothing else. Though exquisitely beautiful, it was a challenging album not especially designed for global-pop crossover.
She zips confidently from free-form jazz to piano balladry to blustering reggaetón and trap, pitching her vocals to a broad spectrum of human and alien-like tones. She inserts unexpected samples and harsh transitions throughout the record, and pairs specific styles with incongruous lyrical themes. There’s a song called “Cuuuuuuuuuute,” whose drums sound like machine guns; there’s a hypersexual piano ballad called “Hentai” (a reference to anime pornography) on which she purrs a stream of lyrics so dirty that they’d make Madonna blush.
Like her most talented contemporaries, she understands that effective pop storytelling is as visual as it is musical. She’s released a number of extravagant music videos during the rollout of “Motomami,” flexing her ambitious and bold appetites for iconography and choreography.
https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-features/private-concerts-fees-performers-1324577/ als músics se’ls ofereixen milions de $ per tocar en concerts privats per a gent rica.
https://www.bbc.com/news/av/world-asia-india-61015974 jove 15 anys de mumbai amb hijab rapping sobre la vida
GRAMMYS 2022
General
Leave The Door Open – Silk Sonic: https://youtu.be/adLGHcj_fmA
Jon Batiste We are – https://youtu.be/aAh41m4LvK4
Pop
drivers license – Olivia Rodrigo  https://youtu.be/ZmDBbnmKpqQ
Kiss Me More – WINNER Doja Cat Featuring SZA https://youtu.be/0EVVKs6DQLo
Love For Sale – WINNER Tony Bennett & Lady Gaga https://youtu.be/0mv5nYdOBq4
Dance Electronic
Alive – WINNNER Rüfüs Du Sol https://youtu.be/e7VveWeRwUU
Subconsciously – WINNER Black Coffee  https://youtu.be/Nw6brdDsPYQ  https://youtu.be/wkG613IRjjs
Instrumental
Tree Falls – WINNER Taylor Eigsti  https://youtu.be/-kPP1W-M5UY
Rock
Making A Fire – WINNER Foo Fighters https://youtu.be/kJ9YKVJjU1M
The Alien – WINNER Dream Theater  https://youtu.be/V462IsOV3js
Foo Fighters – Waiting On A War (Official Video) https://youtu.be/CJd82T1_o1A
Rap
Call Me If You Get Lost,” Tyler, the Creator  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lqvwm3zAILI&list=OLAK5uy_lzJXyds7tiw-cUS9Zg9wXRSiWpNJM6i7s&index=2
“Family Ties,” Baby Keem, Kendrick Lamar *WINNER https://youtu.be/v6HBZC9pZHQ
“Jail,” Kanye West, Jay-Z *WINNER
música que fa posar la pell de gallina
  jazzy Jump Up Super Star from Super Mario Odyssey (composed by Naoto Kubo, 2017). “The piece has a variety of ‘Easter Eggs’, both in the words and in the music,” says Swedlund la música dels vídeojocs
Xostakóvitx
Thelonius Monk
Ed Sheeran:
Ringtone Nokia i Tarrega
Ringtone culture arguably began in the mid-’90s with the Nokia Tune, which borrowed from the song “Gran Vals” by classical guitarist Francisco Tárrega. Wherever you went back then, it was impossible to escape the sound of Tárrega’s greatest legacy. Timo Anttila, one of Nokia’s early in-house composers, bought his first phone, a Nokia 2110, in 1996. “Suddenly everybody got their own phone and everyone wanted to have personal ringtones and background images,” he says. “First buzzer tunes were… really annoying, but those were iconic and changed the sonic environment quite dramatically.” When Nokia unveiled the world’s first polyphonic ringtone in 2002, piercing melodies became a ubiquitous part of daily life and took on new significance as a form of personal expression.
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/the-ghostly-songs-of-othmar-schoeck
https://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-63074469 Gangstas paradise
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2022/10/17/the-science-and-emotions-of-lincoln-centers-new-sound
https://consequence.net/2022/09/best-albums-all-time-list/ 100 àlbums
1. “The Best of Thelonious Monk,” selected Blue Note recordings, 1947–1952. 2. “Piano Solo,” Paris, 1954.3. “The Complete 1957 Riverside Recordings,” with John Coltrane / “Monk’s Music,” 19574. “Live at the Jazz Workshop,” 1964. 5. “Paris 1969,” live from Salle Pleyel, Paris, France, 1969
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vUzn0zHQ_xc 2 degrees east 3 degrees west
https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20221103-arseny-avraamov-the-man-who-conducted-a-city Avraamov, l’home que va convertir una ciutat sencera en una orquestra
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The Japanese appetite for the emotional intensity of much so-called classical music coincided with a Western appetite for Eastern art, the japonisme that, through the prints of Hiroshige in particular, swept European painting in the second half of the nineteenth century, wresting it from a blind faith in Renaissance one-point perspective. Van Gogh and Manet, Whistler and Degas—they were as much enthralled by Japanese art as Suzuki’s generation was by European music.
he didn’t think that musical prodigies were a special class of children, with some special innate gift. On the other hand, he believed that kids learned music not by drill and repetition but by exposure and instinct. All you had to do to activate the music instinct was expose them early to the right input. This ambiguity proved fruitful as a public-relations tool—he could point to this or that wunderkind who had been trained by his method as proof that it worked. But he could also insist, in the face of all the kids who would never play at the concert-hall level, that the point was not to make wunderkinder but to make kids wonder, to allow the power of music to expand their emotional repertory. No bad result was possible.
This dream of the ready-made musical child is to pedagogy what the perpetual-motion machine is to physics: always wished for, endlessly proposed, and never demonstrated. What was new in the Suzuki method was the insistence that musical children could be nurtured en masse, and the belief that doing so was the key to a broader revolution in human understanding. If children all over the globe were sawing away at Vivaldi, they would not make war with each other when they grew up. This belief is not obviously supported by history, murderous rivalry among musicians being rather the rule, but it spoke to an understandable pacifism and wishful universalism that had swept Japan.
Above all, kids learn language early, and so they should be taught their instruments early—at two or three or four, not later.
Yet it’s hard to quarrel with Suzuki’s practical idea that small children are surprisingly capable of learning difficult things if they’re motivated by their own curiosity and someone else’s enthusiasm.
com canvia l’ús de claus per l’ús de l’ordinador.
ahmad jamal
https://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-64124718 millors 25 cançons de 2022, vídeos impressionants però només tornaria a escoltar 2 de música negra: Kojey Radical – Payback (feat Knucks) /  Little Simz – Gorilla
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2023/01/30/whos-afraid-of-brunnhilde-at-the-slurpee-machine òpera als 7eleven per allunyar vagabunds “Studies have shown that the classical music is annoying. Opera is annoying.”
casts the Word as “sacred sound
Hildegard herself devised such music—a cycle of seventy-seven liturgical songs, which she called “Symphonia armonie celestium revelationum,” or “Symphony of the Harmony of Celestial Revelations
When Jutta died, in 1136, Hildegard assumed leadership of the Disibodenberg convent, which eventually grew to include about twenty women. A few years later, she had her first full-scale visions, which were usually accompanied by spells of trancelike immobility and racking pain. Recounting these incidents in the third person, Hildegard says that she “suffers in her inmost being and in the veins of her flesh”—that she is “distressed in mind and sense and endures great pain of body.” Various attempts have been made to attribute these spells to illness; one theory, popularized by Oliver Sacks, holds that she experienced severe migraines.
Dilla time, fa servir un MPC-1 per crear nous ritmes. Companies are already autogenerating ‘functional music’, made to provide aural wallpaper rather than artistic novelty. Their machines feed on historic music data, but unlike with Stubblefield’s sample, we won’t know where they get their inspiration from. There need be no credit, just profit. Musicians do not just fear their own redundancy. They also fear the devaluing of their art.
AKAI MPC
https://www.bbc.com/news/newsbeat-65018463 Spotify no renova els drets de cançons de Bollywood i la gent perd les llistes
https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-65100892 Emahoy Tsegué-Maryam Guèbrou, 30/03/2023
https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/music/story/2023-07-06/ai-articifical-intelligence-music-fake-drake-beatles-john-lennon-grimes?utm_source=pocket_mylist mayk.it
2024
Música i AI, NY20240205
2013 etiopia video Lemma Demisew. Youtube1 i 2. El fill?
Rrome alone, rapper al corredor de la mort gravant per telèfon. YT  https://youtu.be/AZksLHLEJzc
Plega Finale, l’aplicació per compondre més comuna juntament amb Sibelius. Slate

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