Tesla

Saint John's Eve. Night festival for some, with firecrackers and rockets. For us two, Tesla at Razzmatazz. I had seen them before when I was in America, and we witnessed another great gig last Tuesday. This time, in company of my brother. We have been listening to their songs for years; very emotional.


I know what I will be listening to in the near future.

Sanctuary

And one day you wake up.

And you know what you must do.

Look for the CD where you stored the files. Copy them to the laptop. Load the song into the player

... and wait for the guitar to play the first accords

....

The sparkle in your eyes
Keeps me alive

She Sells Sanctuary

(Wolf child dixit)

"Set Them Free"

A Jordi's post in the SeNSe SeNSo blog (warning: in Catalan) today made me embark on a time travel, to a time not so distant —with the IRA and unionists, and the British army, playing their macabre game in Ulster; apartheid in South Africa—, that apparently and for the time being, as things have changed, has been happily left behind, with all the difficulties, wrongs and rights in the world.

And following with music, I could not avoid connecting this song,

Biko (by Peter Gabriel), to this other one,

Silver & Gold (by U2), probably one of the first reasons for the beginning of a great friendship 20 years ago, at least (Ok, Edge... play the blues!!).

As many others, these are songs that still move me (yes, my eyes fill with tears and my nose starts running). I hope it happens for a long time still.

I Remember You

When I walk from Shida to the campus of Taida, I must cross Roosevelt Rd, a wide avenue. I usually take one of the two underpasses that are between Keelung Rd and the main gate of Taida. There is also an elevated pass and some pedestrian crossings, but it is not really worth it to wait.

The first underpass is usually deserted —even if there were some girls sitting on the steps today—, barely decorated and recently painted again.

The other one, near the Gongguan night market is different. In fact, it has six exits from three arms that meet in the middle of the street, with fake decorative columns, posters about Taida or some map of the nearby streets. It is usually fairly crowded and with people selling different things: old books, flowers, necklaces or combs, etc. Many times, there is also an old man selling, well, I do not know what he is selling, but he has apparently been there for many years.

This afternoon when I walked down this pass, I heard a familiar music, though. I immediately recognized the accords of the Skid Row song, I Remember You. A young guy with looks half-way of punk and sleaze style and with his arms full of tattoos, was singing it. He had the guitar case open at his feet with some old records and similar things in it. His was, obviously, a personal cover of the song—it is not easy to sing it— but I did not mind. In a day full of nice songs, I walked back to my office humming the tune of that song I had not heard in such a long time, but I had always liked. And it got me thinking...

Faraway Eyes

Maybe it is just because of the cloudy sky, the nice temperature, and the soft but not too cold, not too warm breeze. Or maybe just because of an already forgotten dream from the previous night. There are some days, it is maybe the first one here, that make me think about the term Faraway eyes, as if my mind was wandering in a flight through far away skies over plains that extend as far as the horizon. Memories of similar moments, maybe in America, come back to me, and I feel wrapped up with a feeling of comfort and reunion. As if I was walking with somebody by my side all the time.

These are ideal days then to listen to some music of Steve Earle, or Marah, or from the record I cannot stop listening lately of Elliot Brood: a fair dose of melancholic songs, but very uplifting at the same time. Ah, a harmonica is a strict requirement.