- 05-06-2012, 02:36 #401
- 09-06-2012, 19:46 #402
If you can get the version Ravel plays himself it's even more ethereal: Gaspard De La Nuit: II. Le Gibet by Maurice Ravel on Spotify"As we moved slowly through the outskirts of the town we passed row after row of little grey slum houses running at right angles to the embankment. At the back of one of the houses a young woman was kneeling on the stones, poking a stick up the leaden waste-pipe which ran from the sink inside and which I suppose was blocked. I had time to see everything about her - her sacking apron, her clumsy clogs, her arms reddened by the cold. She looked up as the train passed, and I was almost near enough to catch her eye." Orwell, The Road to Wigan Pier
- 09-06-2012, 19:53 #403
Foreboding, dark and beautiful - Liszt's music rarely hits the heights and can be miserably unsatisfying, even after many listens, but this might be an exception
"As we moved slowly through the outskirts of the town we passed row after row of little grey slum houses running at right angles to the embankment. At the back of one of the houses a young woman was kneeling on the stones, poking a stick up the leaden waste-pipe which ran from the sink inside and which I suppose was blocked. I had time to see everything about her - her sacking apron, her clumsy clogs, her arms reddened by the cold. She looked up as the train passed, and I was almost near enough to catch her eye." Orwell, The Road to Wigan Pier
- 09-06-2012, 20:05 #404
Poulenc is as tender and questioning as any, especially Pavane: Satie & Poulenc: Works by Francis Poulenc on Spotify
"As we moved slowly through the outskirts of the town we passed row after row of little grey slum houses running at right angles to the embankment. At the back of one of the houses a young woman was kneeling on the stones, poking a stick up the leaden waste-pipe which ran from the sink inside and which I suppose was blocked. I had time to see everything about her - her sacking apron, her clumsy clogs, her arms reddened by the cold. She looked up as the train passed, and I was almost near enough to catch her eye." Orwell, The Road to Wigan Pier
- 09-06-2012, 20:16 #405
More music to go with the brooding Cumbrian sky - Karita Mattila hits a blood curdling tone here which shivers the spine, the Viking Goddess she is:
"As we moved slowly through the outskirts of the town we passed row after row of little grey slum houses running at right angles to the embankment. At the back of one of the houses a young woman was kneeling on the stones, poking a stick up the leaden waste-pipe which ran from the sink inside and which I suppose was blocked. I had time to see everything about her - her sacking apron, her clumsy clogs, her arms reddened by the cold. She looked up as the train passed, and I was almost near enough to catch her eye." Orwell, The Road to Wigan Pier
- 09-06-2012, 20:23 #406
Johnny Cash - 'Hurt" - YouTube
Johnny Cash: HurtGuinness. It's the first food group.
The Gentlemen of The Excise: - Ensuring that Bad Things Happen To Bad People Since 1643
"If I can shoot rabbits, I can kill fascists" (If you tolerate this, then your children will be next).
- 21-06-2012, 22:24 #407"As we moved slowly through the outskirts of the town we passed row after row of little grey slum houses running at right angles to the embankment. At the back of one of the houses a young woman was kneeling on the stones, poking a stick up the leaden waste-pipe which ran from the sink inside and which I suppose was blocked. I had time to see everything about her - her sacking apron, her clumsy clogs, her arms reddened by the cold. She looked up as the train passed, and I was almost near enough to catch her eye." Orwell, The Road to Wigan Pier
- 21-06-2012, 22:35 #408
- 21-06-2012, 22:39 #409
- 21-06-2012, 22:56 #410"As we moved slowly through the outskirts of the town we passed row after row of little grey slum houses running at right angles to the embankment. At the back of one of the houses a young woman was kneeling on the stones, poking a stick up the leaden waste-pipe which ran from the sink inside and which I suppose was blocked. I had time to see everything about her - her sacking apron, her clumsy clogs, her arms reddened by the cold. She looked up as the train passed, and I was almost near enough to catch her eye." Orwell, The Road to Wigan Pier




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