- 02 Okt 2004, 15:22
#21824
kaj pa stara dobra I Ran So Far Away od A Flock Of Seaguls?
včasih tudi ta prav pride
včasih tudi ta prav pride
- 03 Okt 2004, 16:51
#21832
Pozdrav!
He, he, jaz upam, da so zivali ob PST-ju danes prezivele moje petje. Na sporedu sta bili dve. Avtomobili, ki se sprasujejo Kdo je gospodar tvojega srca? in pa Bajaga 442 do Beograda.
lp, oranzni slon
He, he, jaz upam, da so zivali ob PST-ju danes prezivele moje petje. Na sporedu sta bili dve. Avtomobili, ki se sprasujejo Kdo je gospodar tvojega srca? in pa Bajaga 442 do Beograda.
lp, oranzni slon
Eto, mojih 5 dkg pasje radosti.
- 11 Okt 2004, 21:23
#22467
Ne vem od kod, ne vem zakaj, po dolgem času pač, mi je na današnjem večernem teku brundal Leonard Cohen z 'Everybody knows...'
Saj ne, da ne bi bil dobrodošel ampak jaz sem si domišljal, da je na sporedu hiter tek
primus
Saj ne, da ne bi bil dobrodošel ampak jaz sem si domišljal, da je na sporedu hiter tek
primus
If you want to run, then run a mile.
If you want to experience another life, run a marathon.
- Emil Zatopek
If you want to experience another life, run a marathon.
- Emil Zatopek
- 11 Okt 2004, 22:19
#22473
No ko je blo pred časom o Đoniju Ramounu beseda, pa sem se danes spomnil, da je bil pred enimi dvemi tedni celo v The Economistu članek in memoriam, sem ga poiskal. Spomnil pa sem se tako, ker sem moral otrokom (3 in 5 let) rokenrol komade s kazae downloadat (svašta):
Johnny Ramone (John Cummings), a punk rocker, died on September 15th, aged 55
BY THE middle of the 1970s, popular music had changed. The punchy bubblegum sound of the 1960s was gone. Instead the scene was dominated by musicians who wanted to elevate rock to the status of high art, with concept albums, rock operas and overblown guitar solos. A typical track from the Sixties might be four minutes long; by the mid-1970s, ten minutes or more was not unusual. Many fans despaired, feeling that rock had become bloated, pompous and pretentious.
The counterblast began on August 16th 1974, in front of a tiny crowd in a seedy New York bar called CBGB. Four young men—Johnny, Joey, Dee Dee and Tommy Ramone—walked on stage. The concert they gave was shambolic; they spent as much time shouting at each other as playing. But they improved rapidly, and it soon became clear they had hit on something.
Dressed in ripped jeans, trainers and leather jackets (a uniform carefully modelled on the gear worn by New York rent-boys), the Ramones were the antithesis of the art-house pretension in which much of rock had lost itself. Their formula was simple: no synthesisers, chamber orchestras or tedious showing off, just simple three-chord progressions wrapped in two-minute slices of buzzing guitar. They belted out catchy, rapid-fire songs on the usual topics: teenage boredom, mental instability, drugs and disappointed love. Their message was a liberating one: you didn't have to be a virtuoso to make music. Anybody could do it, and technical skill was less important than having a good time and putting on a show for your fans.
Their bare-bones playing was matched by their singing. The lyrics to “I Don't Wanna Walk Around With You” were four lines long, of which three were the same. Their songs were never allowed to venture too far into seriousness. “Beat on the brat with a baseball bat, oh yeah,” they sang cheerfully on their debut album.
This back-to-basics approach never translated into commercial success. The Ramones built up a cult following on both sides of the Atlantic, but their impact was felt more keenly in Britain than in America. Their concert at London's Roundhouse theatre in 1976 was a seminal moment for British punk. The British movement was different: more intense, angrier, more worldly. But the snarlingly political Clash, the anarchic Sex Pistols and the hundreds of smaller, amateur bands that gave voice to the alienation felt by many of the young all had their roots in the do-it-yourself attitude pioneered by the Ramones.
Even among a band destined to remain one of music's great outsiders, Johnny Ramone was an oddity. His father was a strict disciplinarian, and the attitude rubbed off. Johnny, who had a fondness for American army T-shirts, liked to compare himself to a hard-working carpenter. The hammer and chisel were the tools of the carpenter's trade; the guitar was the tool of his. Rock concerts are usually referred to as “gigs”, but Johnny liked to call them “jobs”.
In concert he would stride out on stage, plant his feet wide apart and begin playing in his distinctive style (using only the downstroke, never the up), blowing through songs at breakneck speed. He kept a meticulous diary on every aspect of the band, from the price of their equipment to notes on every one of their concerts. Over two decades, he played 2,263 of them.
Conservative tastes
His political views were wildly out of step. Almost uniquely in the rock-music industry, he was a staunch conservative. He idolised Ronald Reagan, and used the band's induction into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame in 2002 to heap praise on George Bush. There were rumours of a nastier side. When a black man stepped in front of their tour van, he told the driver: “Run him over, Monte. It's just one less nigger.” He explained that being deliberately offensive was part of his sense of humour. Others were less sure. It was said that he carried a Ku Klux Klan card in his wallet.
But Johnny's role as the band's “drill sergeant” was crucial. His frantic guitar-playing set the pace for the others to match. He was responsible for the uniform, and also for the group's longevity. One of his favourite dictums was that when bands changed, it was usually for the worse. He kept the Ramones anchored to his original vision while other acts climbed the charts, went mainstream and then disintegrated in recrimination and accusations of selling-out. In the late 1970s, the band survived a collaboration with Phil Spector; it endured even after Johnny stole singer Joey's girlfriend, a testament to their professionalism and discipline in an industry known for neither.
After their last concert in 1996, the Ramones' reputation grew. They had a heavy influence on the grunge groups of the early 1990s, and at last earned mainstream recognition in America. They are remembered as the band that saved rock from its own excesses and returned it to its roots as an outlet for the young and disaffected.
When Joe Strummer, the lead singer of the Clash, approached the Ramones after seeing them play in 1976, he was worried that his band's musicianship was still too rough for them to begin performing. “Are you kidding?” Johnny answered him. “We're lousy, we can't play. If you wait until you can play, you'll be too old to get up there. We stink, really. But it's great.”
Johnny Ramone (John Cummings), a punk rocker, died on September 15th, aged 55
BY THE middle of the 1970s, popular music had changed. The punchy bubblegum sound of the 1960s was gone. Instead the scene was dominated by musicians who wanted to elevate rock to the status of high art, with concept albums, rock operas and overblown guitar solos. A typical track from the Sixties might be four minutes long; by the mid-1970s, ten minutes or more was not unusual. Many fans despaired, feeling that rock had become bloated, pompous and pretentious.
The counterblast began on August 16th 1974, in front of a tiny crowd in a seedy New York bar called CBGB. Four young men—Johnny, Joey, Dee Dee and Tommy Ramone—walked on stage. The concert they gave was shambolic; they spent as much time shouting at each other as playing. But they improved rapidly, and it soon became clear they had hit on something.
Dressed in ripped jeans, trainers and leather jackets (a uniform carefully modelled on the gear worn by New York rent-boys), the Ramones were the antithesis of the art-house pretension in which much of rock had lost itself. Their formula was simple: no synthesisers, chamber orchestras or tedious showing off, just simple three-chord progressions wrapped in two-minute slices of buzzing guitar. They belted out catchy, rapid-fire songs on the usual topics: teenage boredom, mental instability, drugs and disappointed love. Their message was a liberating one: you didn't have to be a virtuoso to make music. Anybody could do it, and technical skill was less important than having a good time and putting on a show for your fans.
Their bare-bones playing was matched by their singing. The lyrics to “I Don't Wanna Walk Around With You” were four lines long, of which three were the same. Their songs were never allowed to venture too far into seriousness. “Beat on the brat with a baseball bat, oh yeah,” they sang cheerfully on their debut album.
This back-to-basics approach never translated into commercial success. The Ramones built up a cult following on both sides of the Atlantic, but their impact was felt more keenly in Britain than in America. Their concert at London's Roundhouse theatre in 1976 was a seminal moment for British punk. The British movement was different: more intense, angrier, more worldly. But the snarlingly political Clash, the anarchic Sex Pistols and the hundreds of smaller, amateur bands that gave voice to the alienation felt by many of the young all had their roots in the do-it-yourself attitude pioneered by the Ramones.
Even among a band destined to remain one of music's great outsiders, Johnny Ramone was an oddity. His father was a strict disciplinarian, and the attitude rubbed off. Johnny, who had a fondness for American army T-shirts, liked to compare himself to a hard-working carpenter. The hammer and chisel were the tools of the carpenter's trade; the guitar was the tool of his. Rock concerts are usually referred to as “gigs”, but Johnny liked to call them “jobs”.
In concert he would stride out on stage, plant his feet wide apart and begin playing in his distinctive style (using only the downstroke, never the up), blowing through songs at breakneck speed. He kept a meticulous diary on every aspect of the band, from the price of their equipment to notes on every one of their concerts. Over two decades, he played 2,263 of them.
Conservative tastes
His political views were wildly out of step. Almost uniquely in the rock-music industry, he was a staunch conservative. He idolised Ronald Reagan, and used the band's induction into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame in 2002 to heap praise on George Bush. There were rumours of a nastier side. When a black man stepped in front of their tour van, he told the driver: “Run him over, Monte. It's just one less nigger.” He explained that being deliberately offensive was part of his sense of humour. Others were less sure. It was said that he carried a Ku Klux Klan card in his wallet.
But Johnny's role as the band's “drill sergeant” was crucial. His frantic guitar-playing set the pace for the others to match. He was responsible for the uniform, and also for the group's longevity. One of his favourite dictums was that when bands changed, it was usually for the worse. He kept the Ramones anchored to his original vision while other acts climbed the charts, went mainstream and then disintegrated in recrimination and accusations of selling-out. In the late 1970s, the band survived a collaboration with Phil Spector; it endured even after Johnny stole singer Joey's girlfriend, a testament to their professionalism and discipline in an industry known for neither.
After their last concert in 1996, the Ramones' reputation grew. They had a heavy influence on the grunge groups of the early 1990s, and at last earned mainstream recognition in America. They are remembered as the band that saved rock from its own excesses and returned it to its roots as an outlet for the young and disaffected.
When Joe Strummer, the lead singer of the Clash, approached the Ramones after seeing them play in 1976, he was worried that his band's musicianship was still too rough for them to begin performing. “Are you kidding?” Johnny answered him. “We're lousy, we can't play. If you wait until you can play, you'll be too old to get up there. We stink, really. But it's great.”
- 17 Okt 2004, 10:29
#23108
Serbus,
a Miles Davisa (Doo Bop), pa Norah Jones pa Diane Krall noben ne suče v avtu? Pa tud St. Germain (Tourist) fajn sede. Pa še dost je tako imenovanega smooth jazza (od Dominika Kranjčana - Babngrabn, do Boney Jamesa, Rick Brauna, Fourplay, Kenny G,...). Pa tud trubači fajn sedejo sploh ko rabiš šusa. Tk da je naslednje leto treba it na festival trubačev v Gučo - si mi rekli kolegi, da je blo letos NORO!!!
Lp
haupi
a Miles Davisa (Doo Bop), pa Norah Jones pa Diane Krall noben ne suče v avtu? Pa tud St. Germain (Tourist) fajn sede. Pa še dost je tako imenovanega smooth jazza (od Dominika Kranjčana - Babngrabn, do Boney Jamesa, Rick Brauna, Fourplay, Kenny G,...). Pa tud trubači fajn sedejo sploh ko rabiš šusa. Tk da je naslednje leto treba it na festival trubačev v Gučo - si mi rekli kolegi, da je blo letos NORO!!!
Lp
haupi
- 17 Okt 2004, 10:38
#23110
Pa še neki sem pozabu YOUNGBLOOD BRASS BAND
http://www.youngbloodbrassband.com/site/index.html
Lp
haupi
http://www.youngbloodbrassband.com/site/index.html
Lp
haupi
- 17 Okt 2004, 14:57
#23121
Ja, trubaci so res zakon. Bo treba v Guco. Ce ne zaradi druzga zaradi tistih 30.000 odojkov in jagenjckov ki jih zavrtijo v tistih treh dneh.
Pa svatbeni kupus in oh in oh..
lptini
haupi napisal/-a: Pa tud trubači fajn sedejo sploh ko rabiš šusa. Tk da je naslednje leto treba it na festival trubačev v Gučo - si mi rekli kolegi, da je blo letos NORO!!!
Ja, trubaci so res zakon. Bo treba v Guco. Ce ne zaradi druzga zaradi tistih 30.000 odojkov in jagenjckov ki jih zavrtijo v tistih treh dneh.
Pa svatbeni kupus in oh in oh..
lptini
Run to the hills
- 17 Okt 2004, 15:28
#23123
Ne bi bilo res iti naslenje leto na tote trubače.Fajn bi blo če bi bila v tistem času kje v bližini kakšna tekaška prireditev, lahko tudi duatlon recimo.In bi združili prijetno s koristnim.Ker priznam, da me še zmeraj bolj vleče dol v Srbijo kot pa na Hrvaško.Saj sem bil v vojski v Zaječarju in Negotinu, to je pa na tromeji kjer stoji elektrarna Đerdap, ki jo pa nekateri zelo dobro poznajo še iz časov juge.No saj sedaj tudi še stoji.
Vem to, da ko ga oni začnejo žurat ni ne konca ne kraja.Pol se pije pa je dokler je kaj na mizi.
.In bi potem oni dejali: "Evo dobronamdošli brača Janezi ha, ha."
Res bi bilo superca najprej kak polmaraton ali maraton pol pa polniti naše mehe s B - vitamin in ogljikovimi hidrati ludnica.
No ja do takrat je še dovolj časa.In upam, da bo naslednje leto bolj plodno kakor pa letošnje s udeležbami in vsem ostalim kar spada poleg.
ČAO!
Vem to, da ko ga oni začnejo žurat ni ne konca ne kraja.Pol se pije pa je dokler je kaj na mizi.
.In bi potem oni dejali: "Evo dobronamdošli brača Janezi ha, ha."
Res bi bilo superca najprej kak polmaraton ali maraton pol pa polniti naše mehe s B - vitamin in ogljikovimi hidrati ludnica.
No ja do takrat je še dovolj časa.In upam, da bo naslednje leto bolj plodno kakor pa letošnje s udeležbami in vsem ostalim kar spada poleg.
ČAO!
- 17 Okt 2004, 19:13
#23133
Marathon težka bo. Si pozabil, da moraš vsak dan preteči dobrih 27 km?
Torej polmaratoni odpadejo. Izgubo potovalnega časa boš moral nadoknaditi z maratoni, tek s polnimi mehi B vitamina pa tudi ni
preveč uživaški
marathon napisal/-a:Res bi bilo superca najprej kak polmaraton ali maraton pol pa polniti naše mehe s B - vitamin in ogljikovimi hidrati ludnica.
Marathon težka bo. Si pozabil, da moraš vsak dan preteči dobrih 27 km?
Torej polmaratoni odpadejo. Izgubo potovalnega časa boš moral nadoknaditi z maratoni, tek s polnimi mehi B vitamina pa tudi ni
preveč uživaški
lpD
- 17 Okt 2004, 21:32
#23175
Ja Dušan imaš prav kar se tiče te zafrkancije, ki se dogaja dol v Srbiji.
Ne vem kako bi se vse to skupaj zneslo kilometri pa pivo in tako dalje.
No ja, kar se tiče polno meha B-vitamina je pa tako, da mora mero vsak imeti, da ne prekorači osebnega limita, kar se tiče zaužitja B - vitaminčkov.
Pol maratoni bojo naslednje leto upam v velikem številu.Kar se tiče pa končnih kilometrov bomo pa videli, kaj bo čas in zdravje prineslo.
Priznam, da moram najprej preseči mejo 7300 - 7500 km letno.Potem pa na višjo stopnico, če ne bo prej kaj škripnilo ha, ha.
Imamo plane, imamo ideje samo še časa moramo imeti na pretek pa bo.
Jaz pravim za vsako stvar pustimo se presenetiti, pol pa kar bo pa bo.
Dokler bojo noge zdržale bojo zdržale pol pa po rezervne v Ljubljansko kliniko
ČAO!
Ne vem kako bi se vse to skupaj zneslo kilometri pa pivo in tako dalje.
No ja, kar se tiče polno meha B-vitamina je pa tako, da mora mero vsak imeti, da ne prekorači osebnega limita, kar se tiče zaužitja B - vitaminčkov.
Pol maratoni bojo naslednje leto upam v velikem številu.Kar se tiče pa končnih kilometrov bomo pa videli, kaj bo čas in zdravje prineslo.
Priznam, da moram najprej preseči mejo 7300 - 7500 km letno.Potem pa na višjo stopnico, če ne bo prej kaj škripnilo ha, ha.
Imamo plane, imamo ideje samo še časa moramo imeti na pretek pa bo.
Jaz pravim za vsako stvar pustimo se presenetiti, pol pa kar bo pa bo.
Dokler bojo noge zdržale bojo zdržale pol pa po rezervne v Ljubljansko kliniko
ČAO!
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