friday line | skyline

To sum up the International Jazz Day let's tune into Portico Quartet's world. Just like Friday. Line. Abbey Road. Skyline.



The absence of snow was sensational. To hold a cigarette without wearing gloves, to reveal one's whole face to the air! Howard rarely felt moved by an English skyline, but today just to see an oak and an office block, outlined by a bluish sky with no interpolation of white on either, seemed to him a landscape of rare splendour and refinement. Zadie Smith, On Beauty

the cause of light

now drop yourself with no concern on how to breathe
when your mind is burned on optimistic, on overload



Please meet the director of the video Tim Nackashi.

a good (night) song by Delay Trees

Closing the day with cinematic patters from Delay Trees. Good. Night.

inner city blues

Monday feels like Thursday.  Good enough. Odd and confusing spring days.



rockets, moon shots  
oh, make you wanna holler  
 the way they do my life  
make me wanna holler  (...)
hang ups, let downs  
bad breaks, set backs

beaming me up

Snow depth: 0 cm. Sketching playlists. Hawa's album coming soon. Thursday at its best.

the divine ones

Thursdays are by their very nature always quite special. Especially in April I guess. 


             I looked up from my reading. The first number on the record was done. The phonograph needle was now scratching its slow way across the void to the second. The second number, I learned from the jacket, was "Dragon Blues."
            Meade Lux Lewis played four bars alone-and then Angela Hoenikker joined in. 
            Her eyes were closed. 
            I was flabbergasted. 
            She was great. 
            She improvised around the music of the Pullman porter's son; went from liquid lyricism to rasping lechery to the shrill skittishness of a frightened child, to a heroin nightmare.
           Her glissandi spoke of heaven and hell and all that lay between.
           Such music from such a woman could only be a case of schizophrenia or demonic possession.
           My hair stood on end, as though Angela were rolling on the floor, foaming at the mouth, and babbling fluent Babylonian.  Cat's Cradle, Kurt Vonnegut

precisely

This is precisely what I need: Aruán Ortiz & Michael Janisch Quintet. Good. Friday. Vibes.

silence yourself

SAVAGES is not trying to give you something you didn’t have already, it is calling within yourself something you buried ages ago, it is an attempt to reveal and reconnect your PHYSICAL and EMOTIONAL self and give you the urge to experience your life differently, your girlfriends, your husbands, your jobs, your erotic life and the place music occupies in your life. Because we must teach ourselves new ways of POSITIVE MANIPULATIONS, music and words are aiming to strike like lightning, like a punch in the face, a determination to understand the WILL and DESIRES of the self. (via Savages)



She will talk like a friend

to the end

Woman's Hour mesmerizes again. In vision and in sound. To the end and beyond.



The video was directed by Oliver Chanarin and Laurence Hamburger and performed by Siphiwe Mosoang and Xolani Nxumalo.

vision

There is this charm of 8mm. Here wrapped in the sounds from Sidi Touré. Good. Vision.



The video footage by Frédéric Wasiak and edited by Covalesky.