Duke Ellington – piano / Mercer Ellington, Money Johnson, Eddie Preston, Cootie Williams - trumpet
Malcolm Taylor, Booty Wood - trombone / Chuck Connors - bass trombone / Russell Procope - alto saxophone, clarinet
Norris Turney - clarinet, alto saxophone, flute / Harold Ashby, Paul Gonsalves - tenor saxophone
Harry Carney - baritone saxophone / Joe Benjamin - bass / Rufus Jones - drums
1. Chinoiserie / 2. Didgeridoo / 3. Afrique / 4. Acht O'Clock Rock / 6. Tang / 7. True / 8. Hard Way
This is really this chinoiserie. Last year, we, about this time, we premiered a new suite titled The Afro-Eurasian Eclipse. And of course the title was inspired by a statement made by a Mr. Marshall McLuhan of the University of Toronto. Mr. McLuhan says that the whole world is going oriental and that no one will be able to retain his or her identity, not even the orientals. And of course, we travel around the world, a lot, and in the last five or six years we too have noticed this thing to be true. So as a result, we have done a sort of a thing, a parallel or something, and we’d like to play a little piece of it for you.
In this particular segment, ladies and gentlemen, we have adjusted our perspective to that of the kangaroo and the didgeridoo. This automatically throws us either down under and/or out back, and from that point of view it’s most improbable that anyone will ever know exactly who is enjoying the shadow of whom.
Harold Ashby has been inducted into the responsibility and the obligation of possibly scraping off a tiny bit of the charisma of his chinoiserie, immediately after our piano player has completed his rikki-tikki.
Ωραία ορχήστρα, μπράβο! (εγώ μέτρησα πάντως 9 κομμάτια, όχι 8, και το τελευταίο κλείνει εντελώς τζούφια για κατακλείδα κοτζάμ σουίτας· περίεργο!) Επίσης αυτά τα περί έκλειψης των φυλών του ΜακΛούαν, που τη διαπίστωσαν και οι ίδιοι τα τελευταία χρόνια στις περιοδείες τους, δεν τα κατάλαβα...Σημασία έχει πως είναι πλούσια, χορταστική μουσική, γεμάτη (ηχο)χρώματα.
To celebrate David Bowie's 68th birthday this year, artist Helen Greenmade thisvery fun illustration of David Bowieshowing him change throughout the years in animated GIF form. Bowie has inhabited so many different hairstyles and faces and styles that he almost looks like a different person each time.
Strange fascination, fascinating me
Changes are taking the pace I'm going through
Changes
Pretty soon now you're gonna get older
Time may change me
But I can't trace time
You can see the individual faces in black and whitehere.
'Cymatics' is the science of visualizing audio frequencies.
All of the experiments are real. Read about how it was made and the science behind the visuals:
BEHIND THE SCENES
The most unusual part of making Cymatics was the fact that the music was written after the video was filmed.
In 1999 I watched a documentary on 'Synesthesia' - a disorder that effects [sic, affects] the audio and visual functions of the brain. People with the disorder hear a sound when they see bright colors, or see a color when they hear various sounds. I don't have it (I don't think), but I have always felt that bass frequencies are red, and treble frequencies are white.
This got me thinking that it would be cool to make a music video where every time a sound plays, you see a corresponding visual element. Many years later, I saw some videos about Cymatics - the science of visualizing audio frequencies, and the idea for the video was born.
...
Από τους 2 Cellos μαζί με τον Έλτον Τζον, ένα από τα πιο αγαπημένα μου κομμάτια (από κείνα τα σημαδιακά που ίδρωσα μικρός να βγάλω με τ' αφτί, πριν μάθω να διαβάζω παρτιτούρα, άσε που τέτοιες παρτιτούρες δύσκολα βρίσκαμε τότε· κι όταν βρίσκαμε ήταν πανάκριβες. Oh well...):
Ωστόσο, καλύτερη εκτέλεση από την πρωτότυπη των Fleetwood Mac —με τη φωνή και την κιθάρα του Πίτερ Γκριν (και του Ντάνι Κέργουαν) από το Then Play On*— μέχρι τώρα δεν έχω ακούσει:
I can't help about the shape I'm in
I can't sing, I ain't pretty and my legs are thin
But don't ask me what I think of you
I might not give the answer that you want me to
Oh well
* If music be the food of love, play on. Give me excess of it that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again, it had a dying fall. Oh, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odor. Enough, no more. 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before. O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou, That, notwithstanding thy capacity Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, Of what validity and pitch soe'er, But falls into abatement and low price Even in a minute. So full of shapes is fancy That it alone is high fantastical.