Hei Ms Dark - it is hard, I'd agree - but I do also find it lovely (you know, in the painful way) to watch her, too. I love seeing her react to what the lads are doing with the music, and the various emotions that flicker across her face when she sings. You sort of get to see what you hear in her voice...
Oh man. And hey, that alto sax solo a couple of minutes in... it's been a really long time since the way someone blew their horn made me instantly wonder what they were like in bed. I mean, he just hung on to the last moment of the last moment of the beat and then the damn note came in all cool like it didn't even care it was late and we all forgave it immediately 'cause just LISTEN to it! Awesome. Plus Billie, she's just beautiful as hell.
Isn't she fine? That saxophonist (the first one, with bowler hat and moustache) reminds me so much of my Dad. And Billie - something about her face here - of my darling daughter. And now my heart is in that yearning condition, thank you kindly missy mr, which is both pleasure and pain.
Hei housut, I think it's the flaws that really make the hurt and the beauty, the moments when her voice cracks and rasps in that instantly-recognisable way, you know? There are a few singers that you need to hear for, I don't know, two seconds, half a second, and you just know there is no way it could be anyone else, and Billie is one of them. It's as I say, she just is the best. (Glad you seemed to like the clip - I am becoming a number one fan of youtube, because it really is amazing to have these things instantly available.)
Heipsä Fishie - bedtime music supreme, I'd agree with you there. Yes, just LISTEN to it. Glad you dug it, girl. Keep listening, it goes as well on a Sunday afternoon as on a Saturday night.
Signs of Reading - pleasure and pain is where life is at its finest, wouldn't you say, my dear? The moments where Billie looks up and you see into her eyes hurt me terribly, because somehow inside she's got no clothes on at all, and I just want to wrap her up quickly. Nobody should be that exposed. Keep an eye, a really close eye on that beautiful darling daughter of yours, Signsikins (saying this whilst fully aware of the fact you of course do so anyway, without my suggestions. But you know what I mean, I hope).
(Thank you for the good-health wishings - feeling mostly okay now, finally. Off to see how that "kitchen" of mine is coming on, in a moment.)
Following Ms Dark's comment, I'm definitely there, but I don't know where I am, and I have no clue how to get back, but it doesn't seem to matter right now.
Ah, Signskins - it takes one to know one, honey. Myself, I find melancholia the most beautiful state to be, really. I know you do too (so don't argue, okay?)
mwah xx
Miss Mutta, Tohtori Miksi - you exhibit the characteristics and tendencies of most scientifically-oriented people this Sunday, at least those I've known ("I'm definitely there, but I don't know where I am, and I have no clue how to get back" - Mutta, honey, that's what they call having a PhD). I am glad you've allowed yourself a wee bit of respite from being all logical and rationally-thinking, though ("Magic" - Mutta, honey, shhhh....they don't allow for magic in the scientific universe, it's all explained away technically. But not to worry, you're safe here, there's plenty of non-linear thinking, magic, sign-reading, bollocks, and other untowardly unscientific, inexplicable goings-on here at the House of FomP. It's perfectly okay to let rip here and allow the blues to take you wherever it does. Even if you never find your way back. Care for a bit of gingerbread?)
Lose it, Ms FomP! You know it makes sense. Me too, I'll have some gingerbread and we can do the melancholy shuffle ensemble and people with PhDs can do this too, we don't need to be exclusive about it.
Oh yes, youtube is rather marvellous. I very much liked the Billie Holliday clip though I refrained from commenting any further since I was a little the worse for wear, it being a Saturday night (well, more the fact that I'd had a couple of drinkies).
word ver = yzzxz (which sounds like some kind of fizzy agreement)
Yo ho ho, Signs, Prince of Bollocks - you are it by birthright, lady. Face facts. Please also note that my bollocksy-queenheadhood doesn't mean I have given up being a princeling. No no. That would be hasty and erroneous and, well, just plain old wrong of you to think so, RumpleSignsikins. Yes. As for the gingerbread, well, once upon a time there was a House of FomP, in the middle of a frozen forest, all made of gingerbread, and the windows were of spun sugar...in the house lived a princely queen of bollocks, who may or may not have been a witch of some sort. "Come in, come in, my dear children," she used to say to her visitors, and buggered if anyone could tell whether she was benign or not.
Nobody ever left.
The End.
Mutta of the Fiddle, housut of trousers - come in, come in, my dear children....
Strings are good, Dr.B, and also combs and metal spoons. Most people have entirely the wrong idea about Melancholy. It will accept mostly anything and find a use for it.
That is so, Prince S. I have been seriously considering playing my grandmother's ribs the next time we have a wee musical soiree. Melancholy would know just what to do with that.
Some kind of xylophone would be interesting too, Butkins Mutta, but I was thinking of playing the bones in the manner of playing the spoons.
(Confessions time. I've actually stolen* "my grandmother's ribs" from an anecdote told to me by someone who used to take part in jam sessions on a certain night of the week in a pub somewhere in Ireland. She would sing and play the bones, and for some reason she'd get much more attention from the tourists than the guys playing instruments. She felt this to be a bit of an embarrassment, and tried to play it down by telling the aforementioned tourists all manner of dorky lies ("Oh, and what are those bones that you're playing?" "My grandma's ribs").
*See: great artists, stealing, mediocre artists, borrowing)
20 comments:
Ooh, that's searing. She is beautiful and so wracked with pain, it's hard to watch her, but her songs get you there sure enough. Poor Billie.
x
Hei Ms Dark - it is hard, I'd agree - but I do also find it lovely (you know, in the painful way) to watch her, too. I love seeing her react to what the lads are doing with the music, and the various emotions that flicker across her face when she sings. You sort of get to see what you hear in her voice...
x
Flawless.
Ok not flawless, but utterly incredible. A joy to see.
Oh man. And hey, that alto sax solo a couple of minutes in... it's been a really long time since the way someone blew their horn made me instantly wonder what they were like in bed. I mean, he just hung on to the last moment of the last moment of the beat and then the damn note came in all cool like it didn't even care it was late and we all forgave it immediately 'cause just LISTEN to it! Awesome. Plus Billie, she's just beautiful as hell.
Isn't she fine? That saxophonist (the first one, with bowler hat and moustache) reminds me so much of my Dad. And Billie - something about her face here - of my darling daughter. And now my heart is in that yearning condition, thank you kindly missy mr, which is both pleasure and pain.
Wishing you a happy and healthy Sunday.
Hei housut, I think it's the flaws that really make the hurt and the beauty, the moments when her voice cracks and rasps in that instantly-recognisable way, you know? There are a few singers that you need to hear for, I don't know, two seconds, half a second, and you just know there is no way it could be anyone else, and Billie is one of them. It's as I say, she just is the best. (Glad you seemed to like the clip - I am becoming a number one fan of youtube, because it really is amazing to have these things instantly available.)
Enjoy a lazy Sunday, housut
x
Heipsä Fishie - bedtime music supreme, I'd agree with you there. Yes, just LISTEN to it. Glad you dug it, girl. Keep listening, it goes as well on a Sunday afternoon as on a Saturday night.
x
Signs of Reading - pleasure and pain is where life is at its finest, wouldn't you say, my dear? The moments where Billie looks up and you see into her eyes hurt me terribly, because somehow inside she's got no clothes on at all, and I just want to wrap her up quickly. Nobody should be that exposed. Keep an eye, a really close eye on that beautiful darling daughter of yours, Signsikins (saying this whilst fully aware of the fact you of course do so anyway, without my suggestions. But you know what I mean, I hope).
(Thank you for the good-health wishings - feeling mostly okay now, finally. Off to see how that "kitchen" of mine is coming on, in a moment.)
And mwah - hope your Sunday is a goody, too.
x
Yes, I would say that, my dear, I would but you know me - a melancholy babe.
x
Magic.
Following Ms Dark's comment, I'm definitely there, but I don't know where I am, and I have no clue how to get back, but it doesn't seem to matter right now.
Ah, Signskins - it takes one to know one, honey. Myself, I find melancholia the most beautiful state to be, really. I know you do too (so don't argue, okay?)
mwah xx
Miss Mutta, Tohtori Miksi - you exhibit the characteristics and tendencies of most scientifically-oriented people this Sunday, at least those I've known ("I'm definitely there, but I don't know where I am, and I have no clue how to get back" - Mutta, honey, that's what they call having a PhD). I am glad you've allowed yourself a wee bit of respite from being all logical and rationally-thinking, though ("Magic" - Mutta, honey, shhhh....they don't allow for magic in the scientific universe, it's all explained away technically. But not to worry, you're safe here, there's plenty of non-linear thinking, magic, sign-reading, bollocks, and other untowardly unscientific, inexplicable goings-on here at the House of FomP. It's perfectly okay to let rip here and allow the blues to take you wherever it does. Even if you never find your way back. Care for a bit of gingerbread?)
Losing it completely,
x
Lose it, Ms FomP! You know it makes sense. Me too, I'll have some gingerbread and we can do the melancholy shuffle ensemble and people with PhDs can do this too, we don't need to be exclusive about it.
If you are Queen of B****ck*, can I be Prince?
Oh yes, youtube is rather marvellous. I very much liked the Billie Holliday clip though I refrained from commenting any further since I was a little the worse for wear, it being a Saturday night (well, more the fact that I'd had a couple of drinkies).
word ver = yzzxz (which sounds like some kind of fizzy agreement)
Can I bring my violin along to the melancholy shuffle ensemble? Do you accept strings?
But xx
Yo ho ho, Signs, Prince of Bollocks - you are it by birthright, lady. Face facts. Please also note that my bollocksy-queenheadhood doesn't mean I have given up being a princeling. No no. That would be hasty and erroneous and, well, just plain old wrong of you to think so, RumpleSignsikins. Yes. As for the gingerbread, well, once upon a time there was a House of FomP, in the middle of a frozen forest, all made of gingerbread, and the windows were of spun sugar...in the house lived a princely queen of bollocks, who may or may not have been a witch of some sort. "Come in, come in, my dear children," she used to say to her visitors, and buggered if anyone could tell whether she was benign or not.
Nobody ever left.
The End.
Mutta of the Fiddle, housut of trousers - come in, come in, my dear children....
x x x one each, my dear children
Strings are good, Dr.B, and also combs and metal spoons. Most people have entirely the wrong idea about Melancholy. It will accept mostly anything and find a use for it.
Isn't that so, Queen B?
That is so, Prince S. I have been seriously considering playing my grandmother's ribs the next time we have a wee musical soiree. Melancholy would know just what to do with that.
Grandmother's ribs? Is that some sort of xylophone??
Some kind of xylophone would be interesting too, Butkins Mutta, but I was thinking of playing the bones in the manner of playing the spoons.
(Confessions time. I've actually stolen* "my grandmother's ribs" from an anecdote told to me by someone who used to take part in jam sessions on a certain night of the week in a pub somewhere in Ireland. She would sing and play the bones, and for some reason she'd get much more attention from the tourists than the guys playing instruments. She felt this to be a bit of an embarrassment, and tried to play it down by telling the aforementioned tourists all manner of dorky lies ("Oh, and what are those bones that you're playing?" "My grandma's ribs").
*See: great artists, stealing, mediocre artists, borrowing)
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