Home...(9/7)

Esoteric Life...(4/7)

Encore le spirit...(30/9)

After ages, I tuned up this Spiritualised album again today, and then putting aside the biased perception of a post-'ladies and gentlemen' repetition of formula, the 2001 album did stay shiny after a almost decade...with the gloomy lost in the abnormal weather this week, it is just a perfect excuse to float in the space again...

Another Gig...(11/9)

Yet another awesome venue for good music performance. Centred in the heart of Bastille, I was here for Isobel Campbell and Mark Lanegan tonight. Not much any surprise, and the gig was warmly (actually much more than warm in an enclosed salle with all the people) held in good atmosphere. The voice of Mark was still as remarkable as his trademark, and Isobel was more humane on the stage as she looked like in the album photos...

The journey...(13/7)

Karmacoma...(8/7)

I would say this is one of the best performances I have ever seen in recent years. If it was not that the vocal performance of 3D was not as perfectly as expected, I would rate this a full-score gig! After close to two decades, I finally got a chance to watch their live. When the group came out as the leading figure of the trip hop movement in the mid 90’s, no one could have imagined how their music would transform powerfully to become totally organic and stardom-rock electronica. Massive Attack played 2 hours in the Montreux Jazz Festival, and while I never configure how their music is categorised as jazz, their 6+ music performers on the stage elaborated the energetic percussion-founded root in their music journey since last decade. With 2 full sets of percussion on both sides of the stage, the show was a transformation of modernised interpretation of trip hop or drum and bass. The stage design and the stage lighting were gorgeous. The visual projection signified the humanitarian message of the music group in their works, and the intensity of world messages Massive Attack brought in front of the stage crucified the world of ignorance…

The joy of listening Massive Attack’s live also came from the re-arrangement of the synthesis of their songs. Ranging from the lively groove bassline, the banging drum hits to the murmuring vocal combination, the live interpretation of Massive Attack’s music world was fully backed with a rich spectrum of instrument sounds and it was truly another level of music journey. The flashing lighting or the visually-loaded messages in words and numbers were a live protest to current politics and human security. When the group played teardrops in front of a silhouette vision of eye, the vivid sound just matched the innocent sense of the hollowing big eye on the stage. It was when a metamorphic release of light beams scattering all over the stage that dignified the world of teardrops. Featuring Martina Topley Bird, Massive Attack also played their unreleased song of invade me. Horace Andy was another star on the stage during the performance. His signature voice simply invaded the music hall! He brought the angel and the spittling atoms into the eardrum divinely. Massive Attack also performed the anthem Karmacoma in the encore session, and the evergreen trip hop classic was a perfect reply to Martina’s Overcome.

Martina is red...(8/7)

Congratulations to Martina’s latest release of solo album in Swiss. I attended her last gig before the official release, and it was a minimalistic session of live performance. Martina has been the kind of diva-vocal to me appearing in great music work of Massive Attack and Tricky etc., and stepping away from the mega-cast, her own project demonstrates some more profound dimension of her music world. With the eccentric use of sound instruments, she takes much advantage of her unique voice to sample the vocal and experiment her beautiful tone as one of the key elements in her songs. The gig was lovely, and the lo-fi set up on the stage simply reinforced her humane music language, not to mention her eye-catching reddish evening dress. It was beautifully touching when she performed 'overcome' at the end of the show. It must be a memorable musical trip for her in the era of Maxinquaye...

Bourgeois Jazz...(8/7)

How cliché would it be to have ever installed the festive atmosphere in the soundless lake-side town every summer, like the peaceful Montreux along Lake Leman? And becoming the 44th time of its kind, the Montreux Jazz Festival has continued to impress the participants and music-lovers who come over to seek for a speechless tone of hysteric enjoyment. My visit to this picturesque town during the festival showed me a different story of the classy quiet Swiss town that totally differs from my impressionistic visit years ago. I cannot agree more to the organiser to pick Montreux as the heart of the festival. Everything matched perfectly to the joyful mood of the jazz music: the bourgeois-style souvenir booths along the lake promenade, the elegant visitor crowd, the whitey tent of food stalls, the choice of regional food and drinks, the casual scattered clusters of visitors by the lake, the sunset and the holiday, and then, you begin to understand how a speech could be handicapped to echo the as-it-wish style of music world existed.

There is no way reminding you of any hectic notion in modern life, not even any occasional ripple reasoning our existence on the mirror of realistic reflection. Simplicity and enjoyment, I believe, could be the basic doctrine of the hippie-improvisation people share in the jazzy setting of happening in Montreux every summer. We need some warm-up to return to the less perfect world.

40th Anniversary...(26/6)

This marked the 40th anniversary of the Glastonbury festival. Gorgeous alternative farming, and the event has landmarked the glory of stardom generations...

Phantom in Roma...(21/5)

A rejoice of the same story, but in Roma, where the theatre set a very classic Baroque style of opera house for the reprise of the story, and this took place in Warsaw, in Polish. It was the 3rd cast of the production I saw, and yet it was a spectacular session played by the Polish group. The intonation of Polish lyrics harmonized the melody of Andrew Lloyd Weber, at least I did not find much awkward sensation during the play (more)...
Seats were limited in the optimal size of theatre house, and the Polish audience seemed enjoying much their own version of the opera. Costume design was nice, and the stage management was good. The use of visual projection completed the utilization of space on the stage based on its non-far-fetch operational budget, I guess. A very value-for-money performance at last minute purchase point com.

Let's Dance...(9/5)

It's been such a long time since I last went for a concert. Tonight at Bataclan was a sporty one with LCD Soundsystem. Nothing much to describe in words was the direct and groovy night of dance beat music. Echoing their new album was a more subtle experimental sound of drone rhythm. Without giving a moment of break, the long-dominant cells got nerved again. Watch the band's latest MV, and the visual reinforces their belief of fun music with colours, and more colours. Music keeps alive!!

The Broadcast...(1/1)

It was a brain-storming exercise with a decade of music hanging over a collage-like impression of streaming motion. Imagine a moment of time when the space was flooded with the different syntheses of sound components, the better sound (haha sound) is sometimes omitted under layers of the best. I was thinking of compiling a list of missing great works in the first decade of the new century, and a recovery of the much experimental songs of the group Broadcast in my ipod has definitely been an enjoyable moment...
This tribute coincided by chance with the favour Wired magazine on their best pick of 2009. The group emerged with a fascinating resonance of the Stereolab-type electronic music in 1997. Harmonised with the synthetic playing of instruments and branded under Warp label, their works has though been underestimated. I still recall the first encountering of their debut work and non work...the foggy mood of "the accidentals"...that was really a stunning atmospheric ambience. More than a decade later, their sound comes back in such an uneroded style of magnificence...Broadcast yourself in Youtube with the Broadcast...

Chase the Tear...(13/12)

Most expected! The autobahn of the Portishead, electrified tears...cool!

Manicycle emptiness...(26/11)

Culture sucks down words, itemise loathing and feed yourself smiles, organise your safe tribal war, hurt maim kill and enslave the ghetto.

The Charlatans' Path encore...(14/6)

The recent influx of sound comes wholly from the Charlatans, the veteran teamed up with Tim Burgess etc. Frankly have I never expected any new sound from the Charlatans after listening to their last album Simpatico, and I was thinking of their continual tribute to the soulful shape of music in their following works, if still any...
A band with the age of the Charlatans may have been dissolved, dismissed, retired or drained out of passion and music creativity and capability. The Charlatans are not. From the baggy Madchester scene in the end 80's, the Charlatans manage to develop their shakkkky rhythm into a flowing fluid of rock'n'roll music notes. It's after a decade since the pass away of their talented keyboardist Rob Collins, and here again the new album of You Cross My Path showed the melodic poem of the band. Champed as the Charlatans' best album noted by The Independent, I was attached to their work and promised to offer my last chance if not a wasted trial to the works of the band, and surprisingly the lovely sound is totally out of my expectation. Out of the eight years in the 21st century, there is not any truly representing sound in the UK and the US scene apart from the continuous return of the veteran, and the annual hype and music-sound-fusioned-approach of the newcomers simply attempt in a less satisfactory way to fill up the gap of the columns of the music magazines. This decade appears to me still a blanking page of missing sound. This is a pity.

La Spirit Determinee...(1/5)

Albert Hormann for LSD in the 21st century. A state of human blossoming...

Albert Hormann, LSD, My Problem Child (the European earlier addition was titled LSD, My Problem Solving Child—Mein Sorgenkind), translated by Jonathan Ott, McGraw-Hill Book Company, New York, 1980, pp 14-21.

...in the spring of 1943, I repeated the synthesis of LSD-25. As in the first synthesis, this involved the production of only a few centigrams of the compound.

In the final step of the synthesis, during the purifica­tion and crystallization of lysergic acid diethylamide in the form of a tartrate (tartaric acid salt), I was interrupted in my work by unusual sensations. The following description of this incident comes from the report that I sent at the time to Professor Stoll:

Last Friday, April 16, 1943,1 was forced to interrupt my work in the laboratory in the middle of the afternoon and proceed home, being affected by a remarkable restlessness, combined with a slight dizziness. At home I lay down and sank into a not unpleasant intoxicated like condition, characterized by an extremely stimulated imagination. In a dreamlike state, with eyes closed (I found the daylight to be unpleasantly glaring), I perceived an uninterrupted stream of fantastic pictures, extraordinary shapes with intense, kaleidoscopic play of colors. After some two hours this condition faded away.

This was, altogether, a remarkable experience— both in its sudden onset and its extraordinary course. It seemed to have resulted from some external toxic influence; I surmised a connection with the substance I had been working with at the time, lysergic acid diethylamide tartrate. But this led to another ques­tion: how had I managed to absorb this material? Because of the known toxicity of ergot substances, I always maintained meticulously neat work habits. Possibly a bit of the LSD solution had contacted my fingertips during crystallization, and a trace of the substance was absorbed through the skin. If LSD-25 had indeed been the cause of this bizarre experience, then it must be a substance of extraordinary potency. There seemed to be only one way of getting to the bottom of this. I decided on a self-experiment.

Exercising extreme caution, I began the planned series of experiments with the smallest quantity that could be expected to produce some effect, considering the activity of the ergot alkaloids known at the time: namely, 0.25 mg (mg = milligram = one thousandth of a gram) of lysergic acid diethylamide tartrate. Quoted below is the entry for this experiment in my laboratory journal of April 19, 1943. The first section contains notes on the production of the tartrate (tartaric acid salt) of LSD.

Self-Experiments 4/19/43
16:20: 0.5 cc of Vi promil aqueous solution of diethylamide tartrate orally = 0.25 mg tartrate. Taken diluted with about 10 cc water. Tasteless.

17:00: Beginning dizziness, feeling of anxiety, visual distortions, symptoms of paralysis, desire to laugh.

Supplement of 4/21: Home by bicycle. From 18:00-ca. 20:00 most severe crisis. (See special report.)

Here the notes in my laboratory journal cease. I was able to write the last words only with great effort. By now it was already clear to me that LSD had been the cause of the remarkable experience of the previous Friday, for the altered perceptions were of the same type as before, only much more intense. I had to strug­gle to speak intelligibly. I asked my laboratory assistant, who was informed of the self-experiment, to es­cort me home. We went by bicycle, no automobile being available because of wartime restrictions on their use. On the way home, my condition began to assume threatening forms. Everything in my field of vision wavered and was distorted as if seen in a curved mirror. I also had the sensation of being unable to move from the spot. Nevertheless, my assistant later told me that we had traveled very rapidly. Finally, we arrived at home safe and sound, and I was just barely capable of asking my companion to summon our fam­ily doctor and request milk from the neighbors.

In spite of my delirious, bewildered condition, I had brief periods of clear and effective thinking—and chose milk as a nonspecific antidote for poisoning.

The dizziness and sensation of fainting became so strong at times that I could no longer hold myself erect, and had to lie down on a sofa. My surroundings had now transformed themselves in more terrifying ways. Everything in the room spun around, and the familiar objects and pieces of furniture assumed grotesque, threatening forms. They were in continu­ous motion, animated, as if driven by an inner rest­lessness. The lady next door, whom I scarcely recog­nized, brought me milk—in the course of the evening I drank more than two liters. She was no longer Mrs. R., but rather a malevolent, insidious witch with a col­ored mask.

Even worse than these demonic transformations of the outer world, were the alterations that I perceived in myself, in my inner being. Every exertion of my will, every attempt to put an end to the disintegration of the outer world and the dissolution of my ego, seemed to be wasted effort. A demon had invaded me, had taken possession of my body, mind, and soul. I jumped up and screamed, trying to free myself from him, but then sank down again and lay helpless on the sofa. The substance, with which I had wanted to experiment, had vanquished me. It was the demon that scornfully triumphed over my will. I was seized by the dreadful fear of going insane. I was taken to another world, another place, another time. My body seemed to be without sensation, lifeless, strange. Was I dying? Was this the transition? At times I believed myself to be outside my body, and then perceived clearly, as an outside observer, the complete tragedy of my situa­tion. I had not even taken leave of my family (my wife, with our three children had traveled that day to visit her parents, in Lucerne). Would they ever understand that I had not experimented thoughtlessly, irrespon­sibly, but rather with the utmost caution, and that such a result was in no way foreseeable? My fear and despair intensified, not only because a young family should lose its father, but also because I dreaded leav­ing my chemistry research work, which meant so much to me, unfinished in the midst of fruitful, prom­ising development. Another reflection took shape, an idea full of bitter irony: if I was now forced to leave this world prematurely, it was because of this lysergic acid diethylamide that I myself had brought forth into the world.

By the time the doctor arrived, the climax of my despondent condition had already passed. My laboratory assistant informed him about my self-experiment, as I myself was not yet able to formulate a coherent sentence. He shook his head in perplexity, after my attempts to describe the mortal danger that threatened my body. He could detect no abnormal symptoms other than extremely dilated pupils. Pulse, blood pressure, breathing were all normal. He saw no reason to prescribe any medication. Instead he con­veyed me to my bed and stood watch over me. Slowly I came back from a weird, unfamiliar world to reassur­ing everyday reality. The horror softened and gave way to a feeling of good fortune and gratitude, the more normal perceptions and thoughts returned, and I became more confident that the danger of insanity was conclusively past.

Now, little by little I could begin to enjoy the unpre­cedented colors and plays of shapes that persisted behind my closed eyes. Kaleidoscopic, fantastic im­ages surged in on me, alternating, variegated, opening and then closing themselves in circles and spirals, exploding in colored fountains, rearranging and hy­bridizing themselves in constant flux. It was particu­larly remarkable how every acoustic perception, such as the sound of a doorhandle or a passing automobile, became transformed into optical perceptions. Every sound generated a vividly changing image, with its own consistent form and color.

Late in the evening my wife returned from Lucerne. Someone had informed her by telephone that I was suffering a mysterious breakdown. She had returned home at once, leaving the children behind with her parents. By now, I had recovered myself sufficiently to tell her what had happened.

Exhausted, I then slept, to awake next morning re­freshed, with a clear head, though still somewhat tired physically. A sensation of well-being and renewed life flowed through me. Breakfast tasted delicious and gave me extraordinary pleasure. When I later walked out into the garden, in which the sun shone now after a spring rain, everything glistened and sparkled in a fresh light. The world was as if newly created. All my senses vibrated in a condition of highest sensitivity, which persisted for the entire day.

This self-experiment showed that LSD-25 behaved as a psychoactive substance with extraordinary properties and potency. There was to my knowledge no other known substance that evoked such profound psychic effects in such extremely low doses that caused such dramatic changes in human conscious­ness and our experience of the inner and outer world.

What seemed even more significant was that I could remember the experience of LSD inebriation in every detail. This could only mean that the conscious record­ing function was not interrupted, even in the climax of the LSD experience, despite the profound breakdown of the normal worldview. For the entire duration of the experiment, I had even been aware of participating in an experiment, but despite this recognition of my condition, I could not, with every exertion of my will, shake off the LSD world. Everything was experienced as completely real, as alarming reality; alarming, be­cause the picture of the other, familiar everyday real­ity was still fully preserved in the memory for com­parison.

Another surprising aspect of LSD was its ability to produce such a far-reaching, powerful state of inebriation without leaving a hangover. Quite the contrary,
on the day after the LSD experiment I felt myself to be as already described, in excellent physical and mental condition.

I was aware that LSD, a new active compound with such properties, would have to be of use in pharmacol­ogy, in neurology, and especially in psychiatry, and that it would attract the interest of concerned specialists. But at that time I had no inkling that the new substance would also come to be used beyond medical science, as an intoxicant in the drug scene. Since my self-experiment had revealed LSD in its ter­rifying, demonic aspect, the last thing I could have expected was that this substance could ever find ap­plication as anything approaching a pleasure drug. I failed, moreover, to recognize the meaningful connec­tion between LSD inebriation and spontaneous vi­sionary experience until much later, after further ex­periments, which were carried out with far lower doses and under different conditions.

Next day I wrote to Professor Stoll the above-mentioned report about my extraordinary experience with LSD-25 and sent a copy to the director of the pharmacological department, Professor Rothlin.

As expected, the first reaction was incredulous as­tonishment. Instantly a telephone call came from the management; Professor Stoll asked: "Are you certain you made no mistake in the weighing? Is the stated dose really correct?" Professor Rothlin also called, asking the same question. I was certain of this point, for I had executed the weighing and dosage with my own hands. Yet their doubts were justified to some extent, for until then no known substance had dis­played even the slightest psychic" effect in fraction-of-a-milligram Hoses. An active compound of such potency seemed almost unbelievable.

Professor Rothlin himself and two of his colleagues were the first to repeat my experiment, with only one-third of the dose I had utilized. But even at that level, the effects were still extremely impressive, and quite fantastic. All doubts about the statements in my report were eliminated.

more info at http://www.psychedelic-library.org/child.htm

Heroes Smith...(4/4)

It is the exhibition of brouillons of Patti Smith, since her creativity shone in the 70's...La Foundation Cartier does not change a lot physically, as it is always the open-garden like cubicle with the warm sunlight penetrating into the media of human distance. I was in the passing-by of Patti Smith's work. Her notes on Rimbaud, her video of experimentalism in the 70's, the body language, and the meaning of human corpse in the setting of substance. She demonstrated in her early writing the vivid energy of rock'n'roll. The exhibition also showcased some photo and video work of Robert Mapplethorpe. Patti Smith worked on a few installations to play tribute of his death in 1989. The 4-wall room of chalking world of creativity is an admirable set up of the exhibition. The wordings reflected in the stenographic atmosphere of never-ending video projection. Some visitors simply mimed, a silent spoken beauty.
Patti Smith played Smell Like Teen Spirit in a filmed occasion. Her voice reminded me of Nico. Drawing out the memory is also the day of death of Kurt Cobain. It was 14 years ago...time flies. In the tranquil evening, my room is filled in the moody performance of Patti Smith's Hero live in the Meltdown Festival...time stays still, the Parisien Belle Epoque.

Lisboa...(17/3)

varina, usa chinela,
Tem movimentos de gata;
Na canastra, a caravela,
No coracao, a fragata.
Em vez de corvos no chaile,
Gaivotas vem pousar.
Quando o vento a leva ao baile,
Baila no baile com o mar.
de conchas o vestido,
Tem algas na cabeleira,
E nas veias o latido
Do motor duma traineira.
Vende sonho e maresia,
Tempestades apregoa.
Seu nome prprio: Maria,
Seu apelido: Lisboa.

My physical romance...(29/1)

My Chemical Romance at AWE - a gig of defining age and pop.

Eyeball keeps rolling...(19/1)