Welcome to STUPID & contagious II
Greetings comrades and fellow prisoners!!
A warm welcome to STUPID AND CONTAGIOUS! aka the Last Bastion of Taste (and / or nonsense)!
We are lovers of music, fun, cartoons, art, photography, cinema, Jack Daniels, literature, manga and Asian babes … and other babes!!
One or two retrobates may know us from our home in blogger at http://stupidd.blogspot.com/
We advocate free speech and freedom of expression.Contributors here are adult and mature (after a fashion!). Therefore, by definition, the same adjectives apply to our content.
He may be a crap, annoying, gurning actor.
But at least he’s not big headed!
Mushi mushi gravure idol Arisa Taki!
She loves to spin plates (erm … why?) and play the harp.
We’re not sure if she can play the harp while spinning plates at the same time!
Here’s her profile-san!
* Name: Taki Arisa
* Birthday: March 11, 1987
* Birth place: Aichi Prefecture
* Hobby: Listening to music, plate-spinning
* Special skill: Calligraphy, Japanese harp
* Height: 158cm
* Bust: 88cm
* Waist: 58cm
* Hips: 84cm
* Shoes: 24cm
Taki Arisa is a member of the avex girl-group and futsal team carezza.
Holy mother of Buddha!
Two of our favourite Japanese bikini idols, delectable Aki and Risa!
Plus our second favourite Eurasian hotty (yap, Maria Ozawa’s obviously numero uno!), luscious Leah!
Why do we feel the insane need for a sandwich right now?!
Lambchop is a band that is full of contrasts, of subtle nuances that you’re never sure you have completely grasped. It’s a band that mixes wildly different ingredients: the flavors blend nonetheless, until it becomes almost impossible to separate them again. Here are two things you’ll find in all of their discography: a pinch of humor and a good swig of levity.
Because they spend so much time speaking in hushed tones of twilight ambiences, it’s easy to forget that the men of Lambchop, and Kurt Wagner the leader, are, much more often than it seems, pouring on the sarcasm. And, yes, in this Take Away Show, you’ll see them laugh. Not roaring laughter—but soft, like laughter between old friends that find comfort in their complicity. You’ll see him hang the lyrics of their song on the back of a friend, who gets transformed into a man/sandwich-board hybrid. There’s a sense of mischief with these guys.
As you hear them repeatedly unfold their dark, plodding folk with its slow-motion tempo, you forget that the men of Lambchop are usually specialists in levity. Each of their notes is retained as long as it can be, and each falls to the floor like autumn leaves that let go of the tree when their moment has finally come. However, this isn’t a Mark Hollis- style retention: it’s not a painful holding-on. It’s more a languid method, nearly carefree in its slowness, forged from an outdated sensibility of taking one’s time. (Copyright KMS on this idea.)
And now, in these videos, you’ll hear the bittersweet lyrics, sarcastic and not terribly optimistic, of “National Talk Like a Pirate Day.” You’ll hear the guitars stack over each other, turning one over the other, and finally taking flight. It’s a sweet take-off, calm and serene, a tiny crystalline tornado that sweeps up only some dust and a few leaves.
Réal : Nat
Tourné à Paris
You’ll hear the deceptively adolescent tune (if teenagers could be capable of weightlessness) of “I believe in you”, and its way of taking hold, slowly, very slowly. Like building a house of cards, somewhat. Watch the city around them, too: the musicians are hidden in an unpopulated alleyway, and the little street doesn’t seem to realize what’s happening until the last minute, until everything is almost done. Hidden in the middle is the band’s final promise, their credo that almost nobody hears: “I believe in music.”
Réal : Nat
Tourné à Paris
And then you’ll hear Kurt Wagner’s voice. If Antony is the voice of the new age, then he — this old, greying patriarch surrounded by young musicians who, it seems, could almost be his kids—is the voice of yesteryear.
Translation by Caitlin Caven
We don’t go into la Closerie des Lilas. We pass by the front, we see some rich and paunchy people on the terrace meticulously protected by a wall of greenery, we smell the perfume of the oysters, but we don’t go in. Someday, we’ll have the occasion to go in—a family reunion organized by a wealthy old aunt, maybe. Or we’ll be invited to talk logistics of a festival, and spend the entire afternoon on the covered terrace. This was the case for Moon, who had just gotten back from Tanzania, and found himself wedged there, at la Closerie. He would go in, for the first time, to film the Icelanders.
For me, the equation is as follows: the band is staying at the Kube hotel, north of Paris; their equipment is at porte de la Villette; Moon and his camera are wedged at la Closerie, in the south of Paris; and, obviously, Sigur Ros are playing at Zénith this very evening. We only have a little time.
The first person passed by, and this guy will leave us with the best memories— he’s John Best, their manager. A 50-something English man in all his splendor, ‘70s glasses, classic raincoat, beige scarf and classy mustache. He makes us forget about the long saga of the sick bassist, about the rest of the band who’re fading fast.
We bought a bucket at a bazaar in a side-street, and we decided not to bother pulling out the costumes. We moved some tables to set up a splendid harmonium, we took over the piano, and everything seemed ready… the only thing missing was two drummer’s brushes, which weren’t in the van. Some guy had to go back to Villette to look for them.
Réal : Vincent Moon
Tourné à Paris
While we wait, we ask the group in vain to play a few other songs in the mean time—any song that doesn’t need the brushes. They decline.As John reminds us, they’ve never done anything like this before—they usually don’t perform acoustic. We just have to wait, and not add to the looming pressure of tonight’s huge concert.
Still waiting, we rummage around la Closerie. We chat with elegant old couples, we watch from afar as a fat businessman absentmindedly strokes the hair of a girl 20 years his junior, and we let ourselves be cradled by the incessant waltz of guys in vests running and pivoting with their plates filled to the brim.
Little by little the room empties, the remaining diners drag out the final moments of their lunch, and then the drumsticks arrive. The environment is tense, but they jump in. A few notes on the harmonium, and an incredible voice that it would have been a shame to exhaust. We don’t know if the sticks were essential. But in three minutes, our patience was repaid.
Translated by Caitlin Caven
“And I ran, I ran so far away-e-ayyyy! Couldn’t get away-e-ayyyy …”
Bruce Springsteen’s regular E Street Band drummer Max Weinberg will be replaced by his son in a string of European shows this summer, so his dad can concentrate on his TV career.
Weinberg’s band The Max Weinberg Seven will take over as the house band on America’s Tonight Show in June – and the group’s first TV appearances in Los Angeles coincide with Springsteen’s shows in Europe.
So the respected drummer has offered up his talented 19-year-old son, Jay, as his E Street Band replacement.
In a statement, Springsteen jokes, “We promise to return him (Jay Weinberg) in one piece.”
Max Weinberg joined the E Street Band in 1974 and hasn’t missed a single show since. His son, who drums for heavy metal band The Reveling, has reportedly been rehearsing with the E Street Band in New Jersey for the past week.
E Street Band guitarist Steve Van Zandt recently told Rolling Stone magazine he couldn’t imagine touring without Max Weinberg: “It’s hard for me to picture a show without Max, honestly … There’s no drummer that could replace Max. There might be someone temporary that comes in and we’ll have to adjust the show accordingly.
“What nobody understands is that not only is Max a great drummer, Max reads Bruce’s mind. You can’t learn that. That’s impossible to learn. You could spend months rehearsing and you’ll never get that.”
Jay Weinberg becomes the latest rock offspring to replace his father in current classic rock line-ups – Rick Wakeman’s son Adam has taken over keyboard duties in Yes and Jurgen Blackmore has taken his father Ritchie’s place in the reunited Rainbow line-up. Meanwhile, Eddie Van Halen’s teenage son Wolfgang has signed on as Van Halen’s permanent bass player.
The unemployment lines look much much better in Japan!