Harold And Kumar Party Scene

Disco: Helville De Luxe (2008)

Soloist: Enrique Bunbury (Spain)

Some of my friends, fans of Heroes del Silencio, I had argued that the former lead singer of the group was currently a bad singer. Unsure of those words, I dared to judge for myself the quality songwriter Enrique Bunbury. "I do not get carried away by others' opinions," he said, and got the Helville De Luxe, the latest album by English wig. And, as suspected, dear reader / listener, I heard it immediately, with cravings providing an unquenchable curiosity. Then, after the first experience, cavilo: "Suddenly you need another chance." And, with that reasoning, I got by the ears the music of Bunbury as a dozen times. Finally, exhausted, and the repulsion of the stubbornness that has proven a thousand plagues, I threw up my final verdict: "The Henry this, do not waste your time, and that of his listeners, should spend the rest of his life in more suitable offices for his talent. Maybe accounting or carpentry are right for your life development. "

happens, then, that the Helville De Luxe is an album where he failed to analyze. Her songs lack the boldness less creative, and seem cut by scissors for an author not mediocre, but obviously bad. Not enough to handle a considerable record voice, be dressed in the garb of the fame of the past and also have the backing of a powerful record. No, all that is not enough. To make good music, it requires constant work and a light (say, for most, inspiration) to collect and organize in a remarkable knowledge of the tradition to which one belongs. And that's the big mistake of Bunbury. It seems that not only informed of the highlights in his former band, Héroes del Silencio, and had not tried to accumulate the experiences of other styles. The Luxe Helville sounds like Heroes del Silencio, but at its most bland and boring, and no flash in particular. Comment
separately
lyrics Bunbury is an empty exercise. Each carries a fumble that disgusts and even bitter. As annoying (yes, I say with full: annoying) than someone who was considered a great artist back in the 80 and 90, now no more than the pale shadow of its own shadow. The remaining crumbs of the great feast of music.

"my friends were right?", I think. Yes. Sad but true: Enrique Bunbury is a dreadful songwriter. If you want to check it, acquire the Helville de Luxe, and start thinking from now, what to do with the disc. I give a suggestion: use it to Frisbee.

July

Meza

How To Find Apothem Of A Prism

Disco: I do not know if Buenos Aires or Madrid (2008)

Soloist: Fito Paez (Argentina)

I remember in the 90s when I was in college, I was a lot of my childhood and adolescence in St. Augustine, the ultra conservative school that is located in Lima, in a wealthy neighborhood called San Isidro, when I was in fifth or sixth grade, he commented, there was evidence of me that kept as secret of sentimental value. For example, he never told anyone, not even my closest companions, who was a avid philatelist, with a magnifying glass in between, I spent hours looking at pictures of those tiny pieces of paper which, despite its tiny size, have for connoisseurs immense artistic and monetary estimates. Another of the intimacy that was brought to light my taste for rock music, and above all for the pleasure I woke up delicious melodies Fito Paez. Why should this shame? As an execrable fact. It happened during a performance in San Augustine. A group of stupid and lacking in talent, awkwardly clutching musical instruments, performed the worst version I've heard from Mariposa Technicolor. In the chorus, showing a palpable idiocy, these kids, instead of repeating the title of the song, shouting loudly: "Fito Paez is a bastard!". That was true or not this phrase was not important. The problem lay in that, since then, in the vast area of \u200b\u200bSan Agustín, was sentenced to any listener into exile Páez and mockery all over treacherous.

Currently, the matter amuses me, of course. But at the time I created a huge concern. If, driven by an outburst, reveals my hidden pleasure by the talent of Rosario, would pay dearly for my boldness, so that it hid it until my last evening in this detestable school. But luckily, life always gives revenge. And these days, that joy full of my freedoms, I can scream half a world that, after Spinetta and Charly García, and with Cerati Andrés Calamaro, Fito Paez I think is one of the great artists gauchos I appreciate most. For this reason, every time the composer has a new album, I enjoy hearing endlessly and also celebrated as the arrival of a new hope in a dull life.

The album has come to my hands I do not know if it's called Buenos Aires or Madrid. As some know, there is a product of study, but the live recording of some of the most notable of Fito. If anything binds them is the aesthetics shaped by the low number of instrumental resources. As in the case of his penultimate work, Rodolfo, this time there are songs that are accompanied only by the vibrant harmonies of a grand piano. Meeting another constant also, and feverish response from the public. When I hear such a concert, I conclude the following: a good singer is one that arouses passions with one or two hits, but with dozens or perhaps hundreds of songs that their fans enjoy and know so similar to religious front of mystical prayer.

I do not know if Buenos Aires or Madrid opens beautifully with 11 and 6. Fito acclaim and respectable, with a clear voice and melodic keys, release: "In a coffee were accidentally / tired in the souls of the walking ...." It is the tender story of a couple of children who enjoy the love and freedom in a moving and unorthodox. Later heard her classic love after love. With an unusual opening, Fito bankruptcy blues by adding a lot more melancholy piano, "Love after / love maybe / it looks like this ray of sunshine ...." Is there anything better than the experience of love after love? In my view, and guided by the lyrics of this song, we just really love when love comes after another. Have I used too many times the word love, no? Well, is that in recent days, by a mere desire dramatist, I have given to that term around so inexplicable and, in turn, love is beautiful. Then the surprise of the album: You, The Beatles original, sung by Fito and that Madrid's hoarse throat and sharp verb. Goes the refrain: "And you die if you kill / and kill you if you die / for love / when it dies kills / it loves to kill / never die." Tangled but accurate. That play on words carries a poetic truth that I have seen in more than one occasion. Piano keys with a joyful, Dar is giving is sung by Fito and who makes music in a bar for happy drunks. "Dar es dar / and do not mark the cards / just go," said Fito, and in this way so simple, but profound, positive hailed the release in its various hues. And finally, Mariposa Technicolor in its umpteenth version, however, still fascinates the listeners and this sad commentary.

Well, is there still a little boy who, through fear or shame, is unwilling to make their musical tastes? I hope not. Because, if there is anything that under In my experience, gives pleasure, is to shout from the rooftops the joy they give us certain works of art. This is what motivates me, for example, to keep writing these texts, and screaming, without fear that I am a music lover who ENJOY Fito Paez, like so many other songwriters. I said. July

Meza