posted by Rita Redshoes at 12:39:00 da tarde
30 anos! Long live the King!Uma confidência: esta música recorda-me o meu avô que sempre que a ouvia fazia uns movimentos com os braços como se estivessem a dançar sozinhos.
fiquei hoje a conhecer o teu blog graças ao magnifico markl... giro!temos posts repetidos!!! :Pse tiveres tempo dá um salto ao meu.
[Warning ! a lot of: BLAH BLAH back2sleep>>Ahead…>>I find that one doesn’t have to cycle the frame more than twice to understand that novelty can wear quite thin these days as the new will invariably to some extend bring back the noble old in some guise or other. But the crux of the matter lies in not so much as how antiquated our familiarity with the certain past has become as much it has to do with of what little acquaintance we have with our still born future…can a song be just as easily pulled out of thin air as well as it travels and takes on its own life…or does the artist bury it just as quick and move on to the next conception. Well it took a few years for Townsend to realize that Tommy was no longer his but the worlds, try as he might to have buried it, just as Burgess is still to this day not so much recognised for his best work as for the one that caught the world’s ever shortening attention span during a certain period. Skiffle was once one’s currency when it came to paying ones dues and despite as much as I hate any kind of revival that for instance pledges to keep a quiff standing for another 30 years, I still do none the less believe in paying one’s dues, my dues that is, to those that came before but without allowing what came before to interfere with what’s still to be done-if golden promises were ever to be found true to splendid natural form in age of resolution. MoodyTissues
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