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Affichage des articles dont le libellé est 0823. Afficher tous les articles
mardi 23 août 2022
La Saint-Owen (Dans les livres #100)
samedi 21 août 2021
Balnéaire #99 bis
La Sainte-Graziella clic-clac le 21. Manset, sinon, un an de plus,
Jackie DeShannon pareil ; aussi, la mort de Togliatti, Saint
Sidoine Apollinaire, la Joconde et Dylan, et le retour à la normale clic-clic.
Jerry Leiber, le 22 août, avec les Beatles, avec Willy DeVille. Avant : Ivry Gitlis - avec Barbara, avec Ferré, avec Lennon, Keith Richards, Clapton, Mitch Mitchell et Yoko Ono ; aussi clic-clic Toots Thielemans, Laurens et le saint inconnu.
La Sainte-Rose, le 23 (is a rose clic-clac), Sacco-Vanzetti, avant, Rudolph Valentino, Martial Solal, Oscar Hammerstein et Allain Leprest clic-clic.
Jean-François Paul de Gondi, le 24 août 1679. Pompéi, en 79, le 24 août aussi, le triste jour clic-clic ; Jean-Michel Jarre, un an de plus - deux bien belles chansons, et Simone Weil.
Il y a du monde le 25 août clic-clic : Sean Connery, Brautigan (1888), Elvis Costello, Chet Baker, Martin Amis, Philippe Léotard, Fantin-Latour, Truman Capote (1984), Christiane Rochefort, Jack Nitzsche - cent ans pile après Nietzsche Friedrich, par Heldon et Deleuze.
Cesare Pavese, ici, le 26 août. Daniel Frasnay, sinon, Barbet Schroeder, Lee Hays, Lindbergh clic-clic.
Enfin Monica, sainte, le 27 août ; ou bien : Eppy, clic-clic, de la lecture aussi et Josquin dez Prez.
dimanche 23 août 2020
vendredi 23 août 2019
En Italie #317
Oggi a Castellaneta (Taranto) non sono rimasti molti luoghi a ricordarlo. Tuttavia per le strade potreste notare insegne come Bar Rudy, Lavanderia Valentino o addirittura una strada intitolata a lui. All’entrata della sua casa natale, vi è però questa targa.
jeudi 23 août 2018
mercredi 23 août 2017
Favorite (un air qui vaut pas dix ronds #315)
These are a few of my favorite things.
Richard Rodgers et Oscar Hammerstein II, 1959
[Oscar Hammerstein II, le 23 août 1960. La Sainte-Rose, sinon, Sacco-Vanzetti, avant, Martial Solal, Allain Leprest et Rose déjà clic-clic.]
mardi 23 août 2016
Ça a débuté comme ça #47 (la Sainte-Rose)
En février 1941, il se produisit pour la première fois en public sous le nom de Forlane, puis écrivit un peu plus tard sa première chanson, Le Temps des roses rouges.
[Le 23 août, la Sainte-Rose. Sacco-Vanzetti, avant, Martial Solal, Allain Leprest et Rose déjà clic-clac.]
dimanche 23 août 2015
Deux ou trois secrets (Dans les livres #193)
Je me rappelais le temps d'avant Blanche, quand il y avait eu les journées Sacco-Vanzetti. J'étais, moi, quelque part en province. Cette femme d'alors, ça ne l'intéressait pas
[Sacco-Vanzetti, le 23 août 1927. Rose, avant, Martial Solal, Allain Leprest et Dos Passos sur Sacco et Vanzetti déjà clic-clic.]
samedi 23 août 2014
Ça a débuté comme ça #33 (la Sainte-Rose)
Guglielmi - Piaf 1945
[Avant, Rose déjà. Martial Solal, sinon, Allain Leprest et Dos Passos sur Sacco et Vanzetti clic-clac.]
vendredi 23 août 2013
La Sainte-Rose
C'est la moindre des choses
Quand on a l'âme artiste.
Quand on a l'âme artiste.
Pierre Philippe / Yani
Spanos 1983
[Martial Solal, sinon, Allain Leprest et Dos Passos sur Sacco et Vanzetti : clic-clac.]
jeudi 23 août 2012
Un joyeux non-anniversaire #61
Donc la rencontre s’est faite autour de la table de montage et
j’attendais qu’il me donne des ordres. Mais, en fait, les ordres se
limitaient à : « Je voudrais bien un instrument, un banjo ». Son goût,
c’était le banjo. Moi, une fois la musique écrite, je suis arrivé avec
quarante musiciens. Bon, on ne peut pas dire que j’ai observé ses
souhaits.
Martial Solal, 85 ans aujourd'hui.
Martial Solal, 85 ans aujourd'hui.
[Allain Leprest sinon, et Dos Passos sur Sacco et Vanzetti : clic-clac.]
mardi 23 août 2011
La lalala (Gloire d'Allain Leprest)
Ceux qui le peuvent enterreront aujourd'hui Allain Leprest (16h cimetière Monmousseau à Ivry). Les autres, nous autres, on s'en voudra un peu de ne pas être là.
lundi 23 août 2010
We stand defeated America
they have clubbed us off the streets they are stronger they are rich they hire and fire the politicians the newspaper editors the old judges the small men with reputations the college presidents the wardheelers (Listen businessmen college presidents judges America will not forget her betrayers) they hire the men with guns the uniforms the policecars the patrolwagons
all right you have won you will kill the brave men our friends tonight
there is nothing left to do we are beaten we the beaten crowd together in these old dingy schoolrooms on Salem Street shuffle up and down the gritty creaking stairs sit hunched with bowed heads on benches and hear the old words of the haters of oppression made new in sweat and agony tonight
our work is over the scribbled phrases the nights typing releases the smell of the printshop the sharp reek of newprinted leaflets the rush for Western Union stringing words into wires the search for stinging words to make you feel who are your oppressors America
America our nation has been beaten by strangers who have turned our language inside out who have taken the clean words our fathers spoke and made them slimy and foul
their hired men sit on the judge’s bench they sit back with their feet on the tables under the dome of the State House they are ignorant of our beliefs they have the dollars the guns the armed forces the powerplants they have built the electric chair and hired the executioner to throw the switch
all right we are two nations
America our nation has been beaten by strangers who have bought the laws and fenced off the meadows and cut down the woods for pulp and turned our pleasant cities into slums and sweated the wealth out of our people and when they want to they hire the executioner to throw the switch
but do they know that the old words of the immigrants are being renewed in blood and agony tonight do they know that the old American speech of the haters of oppression is new tonight in the mouth of an old woman from Pittsburgh of a husky boilermaker from Frisco who hopped freights clear from the Coast to come here in the mouth of a Back Bay socialworker in the mouth of an Italian printer of a hobo from Arkansas the language of the beaten nation is not forgotten in our ears tonight
the men in the deathhouse made the old words new before they died
If it had not been for these things, I might have lived out my life talking at streetcorners to scorning men. I might have died unknown, unmarked, a failure. This is our career and our triumph. Never in our full life can we hope to do such work for tolerance, for justice, for man’s understanding of man as now we do by an accident.
now their work is over the immigrants haters of oppression lie quiet in black suits in the little undertaking parlor in the North End the city is quiet the men of the conquering nation are not to be seen on the streets
they have won why are they scared to be seen the streets? on the streets you see only the downcast faces of the beaten
the streets belong to the beaten nation all the way to the cemetery where the bodies of the immigrants are to be buried
we line the curbs in the drizzling rain we crowd the wet sidewalks elbow to elbow silent pale looking with scared eyes at the coffins
we stand defeated America
(John Dos Passos, sur l'exécution de Sacco et Vanzetti, le 23 août 1927, in The Big Money, La grosse galette en VF).
all right you have won you will kill the brave men our friends tonight
there is nothing left to do we are beaten we the beaten crowd together in these old dingy schoolrooms on Salem Street shuffle up and down the gritty creaking stairs sit hunched with bowed heads on benches and hear the old words of the haters of oppression made new in sweat and agony tonight
our work is over the scribbled phrases the nights typing releases the smell of the printshop the sharp reek of newprinted leaflets the rush for Western Union stringing words into wires the search for stinging words to make you feel who are your oppressors America
America our nation has been beaten by strangers who have turned our language inside out who have taken the clean words our fathers spoke and made them slimy and foul
their hired men sit on the judge’s bench they sit back with their feet on the tables under the dome of the State House they are ignorant of our beliefs they have the dollars the guns the armed forces the powerplants they have built the electric chair and hired the executioner to throw the switch
all right we are two nations
America our nation has been beaten by strangers who have bought the laws and fenced off the meadows and cut down the woods for pulp and turned our pleasant cities into slums and sweated the wealth out of our people and when they want to they hire the executioner to throw the switch
but do they know that the old words of the immigrants are being renewed in blood and agony tonight do they know that the old American speech of the haters of oppression is new tonight in the mouth of an old woman from Pittsburgh of a husky boilermaker from Frisco who hopped freights clear from the Coast to come here in the mouth of a Back Bay socialworker in the mouth of an Italian printer of a hobo from Arkansas the language of the beaten nation is not forgotten in our ears tonight
the men in the deathhouse made the old words new before they died
If it had not been for these things, I might have lived out my life talking at streetcorners to scorning men. I might have died unknown, unmarked, a failure. This is our career and our triumph. Never in our full life can we hope to do such work for tolerance, for justice, for man’s understanding of man as now we do by an accident.
now their work is over the immigrants haters of oppression lie quiet in black suits in the little undertaking parlor in the North End the city is quiet the men of the conquering nation are not to be seen on the streets
they have won why are they scared to be seen the streets? on the streets you see only the downcast faces of the beaten
the streets belong to the beaten nation all the way to the cemetery where the bodies of the immigrants are to be buried
we line the curbs in the drizzling rain we crowd the wet sidewalks elbow to elbow silent pale looking with scared eyes at the coffins
we stand defeated America
(John Dos Passos, sur l'exécution de Sacco et Vanzetti, le 23 août 1927, in The Big Money, La grosse galette en VF).
Wikipedia 9/9
http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Affaire_Sacco_et_Vanzetti
Le film Sacco et Vanzetti réalisé par Giuliano Montaldo retrace leur histoire. Bien que toutefois, le film ne soit jamais sorti en France au format VHS ou DVD.
[Ils ont corrigé, les fourbes.]
Le film Sacco et Vanzetti réalisé par Giuliano Montaldo retrace leur histoire. Bien que toutefois, le film ne soit jamais sorti en France au format VHS ou DVD.
[Ils ont corrigé, les fourbes.]
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