Sun Ra - Outer Spaceways Incorporated
http://rapidshare.com/files/4038475/Outer_Spaceways_Incorporated.zip
Jon Hassell - Vernal Equinox
http://rapidshare.com/files/4044120/Vernal_Equinox.zip
Jon Hassell - Aka-Dabari-Java
http://rapidshare.com/files/4047649/Aka_Dabari_Java.zip
Amon Duul II - Phallus Dei
http://rapidshare.com/files/4048886/Phallus_Dei.zip
David Thomas - Monster Walks the Winter Lake
http://rapidshare.com/files/4049685/Monster_Walks_the_Winter_Lake.zip
Robert Wyatt - The End of an Ear
http://rapidshare.com/files/8594014/The_End_of_an_Ear.zip
Robert Wyatt - Shleep
http://rapidshare.com/files/8594780/Shleep.zip
Epsilon - Epsilon
http://rapidshare.com/files/8632199/Epsilon.zip
German Oak - German Oak
http://rapidshare.com/files/8633390/German_Oak.zip
LA Dusseldorf - LA Dusseldorf
http://rapidshare.com/files/8634307/LA_Dusseldorf.zip
LA Dusseldorf - Viva
http://rapidshare.com/files/8635527/Viva.zip
Nektar - A Tab In The Ocean
http://rapidshare.com/files/8636754/A_Tab_In_The_Ocean.zip
Popol Vuh - Hosianna Mantra
http://rapidshare.com/files/8640532/Hosianna_Mantra.zip
Klaus Schulze - Cyborg
http://rapidshare.com/files/8642412/Cyborg.part1.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/8643157/Cyborg.part2.rar
Klaus Schulze - In Blue
http://rapidshare.com/files/8645106/In_Blue.part1.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/8646659/In_Blue.part2.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/8647020/In_Blue.part3.rar
The Last Poets - The Last Poets
http://rapidshare.com/files/8804544/The_Last_Poets.zip
Keiji Haino - Ama No Gawa (Milky Way)
http://rapidshare.com/files/9175335/Ama_No_Gawa.zip
Lost Aaraaff - Lost Aaraaff
http://rapidshare.com/files/9180890/Lost_Aaraaff.zip
Ghost - Lama Rabi Rabi
http://rapidshare.com/files/9235355/Lama_Rabi_Rabi.zip
Comus - First Utterance
http://rapidshare.com/files/9242578/First_Utterance.part1.rar
http://rapidshare.com/files/9242764/First_Utterance.part2.rar
2007年5月28日星期一
2007年5月8日星期二
2007年5月1日星期二
Everything is fucking changing
贾樟柯说当下中国电影还不如文革时期，改天不知道从哪儿就蹦出一堆小红卫兵来革他的命，在中国乱说话肯定会倒霉的
中国要改劳教制度，实在太胡扯了。断掉自己好端端的不花钱的劳动力来源不有病才怪呢，管TM什么人权组织，偷偷摸摸的事中国人都干惯了
听说冯尼古特死了，上个月是侯孝贤的生日
国内的两会不知开的怎么样，老百姓们还要活下去
前两天见到有人骂顾城和海子
没想到亨利米勒也读汉姆生，我总想到他的“饥饿”
爵士是朋克的爸爸，我想Joey和Sid不会这么认为
下个月的Sonar,令人期待呀，虽然还没有定机票
越来越喜欢Fat Cat了，当然还少不了Warp
为什么现在人们都开始喜欢翻唱，Dj的Remix还可以原谅，自己创作力枯竭了，还要来败坏别人的作品，真TM无聊
Manson的演出还早，Rock am Ring要不要去呢，SP和WS真让人难以割舍
Essen有个全欧洲最大的Voodoo的 Ausstellung, Voodoo ist nicht Teufel, sonder der Gott, der Geist, die Religion
中国要改劳教制度，实在太胡扯了。断掉自己好端端的不花钱的劳动力来源不有病才怪呢，管TM什么人权组织，偷偷摸摸的事中国人都干惯了
听说冯尼古特死了，上个月是侯孝贤的生日
国内的两会不知开的怎么样，老百姓们还要活下去
前两天见到有人骂顾城和海子
没想到亨利米勒也读汉姆生，我总想到他的“饥饿”
爵士是朋克的爸爸，我想Joey和Sid不会这么认为
下个月的Sonar,令人期待呀，虽然还没有定机票
越来越喜欢Fat Cat了，当然还少不了Warp
为什么现在人们都开始喜欢翻唱，Dj的Remix还可以原谅，自己创作力枯竭了，还要来败坏别人的作品，真TM无聊
Manson的演出还早，Rock am Ring要不要去呢，SP和WS真让人难以割舍
Essen有个全欧洲最大的Voodoo的 Ausstellung, Voodoo ist nicht Teufel, sonder der Gott, der Geist, die Religion
2007年4月13日星期五
April is the cruellest month...
APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
Frisch weht der Wind
Der Heimat zu.
Mein Irisch Kind,
Wo weilest du?
'You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
'They called me the hyacinth girl.'
—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Od' und leer das Meer.
Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,
Had a bad cold, nevertheless
Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,
With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,
Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,
(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)
Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
The lady of situations. 50
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
One must be so careful these days.
Unreal City,
Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought death had undone so many.
Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying 'Stetson!
'You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!
'That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
'Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
'Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
'Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,
'Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!
'You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!'
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
Frisch weht der Wind
Der Heimat zu.
Mein Irisch Kind,
Wo weilest du?
'You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
'They called me the hyacinth girl.'
—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Od' und leer das Meer.
Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,
Had a bad cold, nevertheless
Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,
With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,
Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,
(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)
Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
The lady of situations. 50
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
One must be so careful these days.
Unreal City,
Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought death had undone so many.
Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying 'Stetson!
'You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!
'That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
'Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
'Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
'Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,
'Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!
'You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!'
––T.S. Eliot (1888–1965). The Waste Land. 1922. I. The Burial of the Dead
2007年4月11日星期三
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