Where to Winds whether actual, political or emotional?

Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind music by John Rutter, words by William Shakespeare sung by CLOSER (Beverley Worboys, Sara Parry, Michael Robinson, Trevor Conner) Photography by Lukas Fluri


17 thoughts on “Where to Winds whether actual, political or emotional?”

  1. so ole Willie the Shake was a song writer too according to poetryfoundation:

    Song: “Blow, blow, thou winter wind

    Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
       Thou art not so unkind
          As man’s ingratitude;
       Thy tooth is not so keen,
    Because thou art not seen,
          Although thy breath be rude.
    Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
    Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
       Then, heigh-ho, the holly!
          This life is most jolly.
       Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
       That dost not bite so nigh
          As benefits forgot:
       Though thou the waters warp,
          Thy sting is not so sharp
          As friend remembered not.
    Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
    Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
       Then, heigh-ho, the holly!
          This life is most jolly.
  2. Willie was not talking about SC winters.    If he were here, he’d be wearing Bermuda shorts and Ray-Bans, and he’d be headed for the beach

  3. jack, hope this meets the sunday serendipity standard that you and jace have set.

    choice between current windstorm conditions and an interesting italian group was hard to make so here’s the runner-up for mixers inclined to musical adventure

    “Creuza de Ma” (Fabrizio De Andrè) in different languages performed at the Acoustic Night 18 (May 3-4-5-6, 2018), Teatro della Corte, Genova, Italy. The Beppe Gambetta Acoustic Nights started 18 years ago featuring over the years International masters of the independent music. Artistic and music direction: Beppe Gambetta and Federica Calvino Prina. Stage setting design: Sergio Bianco. Edited and mixed by Bruno Costa and Alessio Siena at Tabasco Studio, Sori, Italy

  4. background of above 

    Crêuza de mä – Wikipedia

    Crêuza de mä (pronounced [ˈkɾøːza de ˈmaː];[a] “Muletrack by the sea”)[b] is the eleventh studio album by Fabrizio De André, entirely sung in the Ligurian language, more specifically in the dialect of Genoa.


    • “Crêuza de mä” is about the hard working life of sailors and fishermen in Genoa, but also displays their serene mood when gathering together for dinner. The lyrics mention various traditional Genoan dishes (as well as some unrealistic, invented ones), which are allegedly served in “Andrea’s house” [i.e. a tavern] – Andrea being a fantasy character “who is not a sailor”, possibly representing De André himself as someone who is extraneous to the sailors’ world, and in whose world the sailors view themselves as misfits. The instrumentation featured in the song is mostly ethnic, with Pagani playing a recurring riff on a violin plucked with a guitar plectrum, referred to by the invented name of ‘ndelele; the chorus, built on a polymetric structure of three bars (respectively of 5/4, 6/4 and 4/4), is sung by De André and Pagani using meaningless words (eh anda, yey yey anda, yey yey yey anda, ayo), sounding more like Sardinian (another favourite language of De André’s) than Genoese, and the song ends with chants and hollers by fishmongers and seafood vendors, recorded live by Pagani in the Genoa fish market. In Dentro Faber, Pagani said he felt lucky for the fact that all vendors sang in a perfect D major key (the key of the main song), most of them without having the faintest idea of what a key is.

      Translation of original Genoese lyrics to “Crêuza de mä”[edit]

      The opening line, defining the mood of the whole song, reads: “Umbre de muri, muri de mainæ / dunde ne vegnî, duve l’è che’anæ?” [“Shadows of faces, faces of sailors / where did you come from and where are you going?”] As already mentioned, the Ligurian expression crêuza de mä, in the Genoa area, defines a path or mule track, sometimes made of steps, which usually defines the boundaries of private property and connects (as indeed do virtually all roads in Liguria) the hinterland with the sea. The literal translation is therefore “sea lane” or, using a Ligurism, “sea crossing”. The lyrics are about sailors who, returning from the sea – poetically described as a place where the moors are bare (i.e. not shaded by hills, plants or houses) and where the night points its knife to men’s throats – go to eat at Andrea’s tavern, they drink at the fountain of doves in the stone house, and think of who they might find: people from Lugano and “unrecommendable” girls of good family “who you may look at without a condom“. The lyrics then focus closer on the figure of sailors and their lives as eternal travelers, and more precisely on a night return of sailors to shore, almost as strangers. De André talks about their feelings, about their experiences on their skin, about the rawness of being at the real mercy of the elements; in the following verse, an ostentatiously joking distrust emerges, which can be seen in the assortment of food imagined, acceptable and normal (or nearly so, for a true sailor), as opposed to other dishes, such as lamb brains, or a sweet-and-sour hash of “hare of tiles” (i.e. the cat, passed off as a sort of rabbit), decidedly and deliberately less acceptable; these are evidently quoted to ironize about the reliability and steadfastness of Andrea (about whom it is stressed that he is not a sailor) and, perhaps, of a whole world to which they know they do not belong.


  5. MTG kicked the puck off twitter – forever.  Good.  Hope she enjoys the next generation of bullshit social networks.

  6. Got lots of rain yesterday – West Fork River down the hill is at flood stage – maybe above.  

  7. Yeah… where the hell is this thing called winter!  We’ve had nothing but rain and fog for like 5 straight days.  If I didn’t know any better… I would think we moved to Jamie’s neck of the woods.
    This is suppose to be one of the biggest ski weeks of the season… it’s not cold enough for them to make snow.  Rick told me this morning over breakfast that he was sure the little area he mostly skis (only because it’s close) would most likely go belly up.

  8. https://youtu.be/ITKNDBkD5dI

    I like this version best. Florence Welch is amazing.

    RR – I think your winter got lost. It’s down in DFW, where it’s 50 degrees colder than yesterday. Thankfully, the rain came a day before the freeze .

  9. jamie, thanks. got a lot of respect for jace & jack on their good job of sunday serendipities past. choosing something apropos of the moment plus good to hear from all that’s out there can present quite a dilemma for the chooser.  hats off to jack for his labors.  mine pales in comparison.

  10. Patt
    thanks for covering for me.
    They have been saving up all that cold for the new year. It’s here today, it will head your way soon.

  11. Dr. Richard Leaky has died, adding to the list of Greatest Gen and Boomers reaching the end of the down slope of the line of life.  He was 77.  Ah, seventy-seven.  Jesus Alou, I would have sworn he was in his nineties.  There must be some shrink expression for when we think those slightly older than ourselves are many decades older.
    Coach Dan Reeves, of Broncos and Elway fame, died at age seventy-seven.  First thing I think of his brain damage from his years in college and pro football.  With all the football players dying of brain damage I expected to see a note about that in his obituaries. None, nada.  Why not?  He was a running back and got his bell rung a few times.  I did expect him to die early because of his early career.  At least Denver won the Super Bowl, right? 

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