Kategoriarkiv: Rocknroll

Berlin-3 + 2


Et meget fint dansk program, om David Bowie’s tid i Berlin og hans trilogi derfra, i går aftes på DR2. Men midt i al den lovprisende snak om Low, Heroes og Lodger skal ikke underkendes betydningen af Iggy Pop’s The Idiot og Lust For Life, der også begge blev til i 1977 i Die Mauerstadt, selvfølgelig under Bowie’s blomstrende supervision. Fremragende albums begge to, som på ingen måder står tilbage for hans egne. Hvor ville Iggy Pop have været i vores bevidsthed, uden lige de to under bæltet!?

Golden years


Vi blev forslået en top 5 over David Bowie’s post-Let’s Dance-karriere, men den ørkenvandring er svær at finde lyst til. Men da der tales personlige lister, så lad os istedet tage et par stykker, der drejer sig om den direkte grund til, vi fejrer manden, hans musik og betydning. Alle bud er velkomne!

Top 5-Bowie-albums:
1. Diamond Dogs
2. Ziggy Stardust
3. Scary Monsters
4. Aladdin Sane
5. Station To Station

1. Helden (Heroes’ original-versionen på tysk)
2. Rebel Rebel (fra Diamond Dogs)
3. Boys Keep Swinging (fra Lodger)
4. Ashes To Ashes (fra Scary Monsters)
5. Young Americans (fra Young Americans)

1. We Are The Dead (fra Diamond Dogs)
2. Station To Station (fra Station To Station)
3. Sweet Thing (fra Diamond Dogs)
4. Wild Is The Wind (fra Station To Station)
5. Fascination (fra Young Americans)

1. The London Boys (single-B-side)
2. Because You’re Young (fra Scary Monsters)
3. Velvet Goldmine (single-B-side)
4. Moonage Daydream (fra Ziggy Stardust)
5. Drive-In Saturday (fra Aladdin Sane)

Patti Smith om David Bowie


I anledning af Bowie’s runde fødselsdag i dag – se Pastorens indlæg nedenfor – bringes her et tidslomme-fint skriv om ham, som Patti Smith begik i 1978 for musikbladet Hit Parader – enjoy!

Hit Parader, April 1978

By Patti Smith

….I had the fortunes with me. 10/20. Rimbaud”s birthday. I was in Koln. So were the several young and lusty terrorists. The tone of the country was meditative, metallic. West germany had an extreme distaste for overt military tactics. Murder. Hi jack. The need for counter militia was an embarrassment for the new middle class as well as detrimental to the tourist trade.

….The customs official found my sunglasses offensive. Italian bodyguard shades. Lying on the table with my keys and tools they seemed to take on the flesh of a dangerous drug. I refused to part with them and soon hit the streets with an armed escort. There was no one around save servicemen and teenagers. I arrived at galerie Veith Turske late greasy and mean.

….One of the boys followed us. His name was Dominique. He sat across from me in the music room. I imagined cradling him. Picking him up and drawing him in. He had all the motion of a twelve year old girl. The perverse sensuality of innocence.

….Another boy came in. he was older and very cute. Maybe around 22 and very eager. He had an offering in a wax bag. He said it was the new Bowie album. I was very happy. I was nervous and alien in this town and the record was a connection. It was also his contribution toward the raising of souls in this domestic domain.

….I asked Dominique to display the drugs. He unrolled what he had from a piece of grey felt lined in smooth rubber tubing. It was green devil and very sticky. He divided the drug. I was given twice as much. I took this as a token of respect and did not protest. Veith came in with hash and alcohol. He also brought an exotic dessert composed of the foam of various liquors whipped with egg yolk. Boy-2 put side one on. I had difficulty focusing. Being among others I was unable to relax and submit into a groove of total aural adventure. It was also impossible to glitter and obliterate before a trio of languorous young men.

….I was expecting a thrill though. Since Young Americans I have been a quiet yet ecstatic fan. Station To Station inspired Radio Ethiopia. Message units are sprayed liberally between the buds of poppies. When Low hit I was in a period of disgrace. Of total immobility. Low. The fall and potential rising of Thomas Jerome Newton. The soundtrack of Bowie’s escape into film. A backdrop for months of head-motion. Low provided a state of connective id- mutual non-action. Of dream and beyond into creation. A stiff neck person can indeed inter/enter the wrath of the creator. and so I was remembering. I was sliding into the dark backward. Revisiting all the carnal landscapes of the bruised interior.

….The boys were discussing Bowie’s pronunciations. In Koln Heroes is sung in sectioned german. I asked them what they thought of Bowie’s interpretation. They said it was not rock n roll. It was cabaret. Behind my shades I can imagine him. There in Berlin. In the abandoned section. I imagine him stumbling through old boxes and props in the street. I imagine him in love with the whole world or totally dead. I imagine the last show of Thomas Jerome Newton escaping into life.we are interrupted by a profile. Bowie- the- neo- somnambulist enters the atelier of hugo ball. He is the angels of Kadinsky. He is the incredibly spiritual phony. A member of the most expiring racean actor. Specifically designed for the silent screen. One w/the conceit and innocence of the true silent actor.

….In Sons Of The Silent Age he is the metropolis valentino- very mythic very manic and very misunderstood. Harmonious gossip resounds. Everyone is murmuring German. I get some kind of anger/anguish out of Blackout. Dehumanised speed of the Japanese laborer. We can’t compete we just get wiped out. I think of my mom losing her job in a factory cause the Japs do it faster. I think of transistor you can get for only seven dollars that really works made in Japan.

….His new work is not immediately accessible but neither was exile on main street. Beauty And The Beast is a shock that is eventually absorbed into shining acceptance. Joe The Lion is startling too and stretched out by some great guitar. It takes some time to get under the skin.

….Records sound different in Europe. I think the turntables are faster. Theres more treble. I couldn’t enter into V-2 Schneider the way I wanted to. Not til much later when I came home. I got off the plane and went downtown and brought the record. I wanted to keep the feel of being in transit. New york- Koln. I don’t usually buy a record unless I’m in love (stones) or in a state of hot suspense (idiot).

….I listened to the record for 72 hours. Day and night. Watching tv and in my sleep. Like Station To Station and Low, Heroes is a cryptic product of a high order of intelligence. Committed to survival. The rythum tracks are intel-disco. Lysis-discos. the disintegration of brain into lingua into pulse of rythum. High east coast wherein all the musician play w/grace and taste. The title song is wonderful. It exposes us to our most precious and private dilemma. He has captured in this song that desperate moment when one will die for love. The track is pure. I am waiting for my man. But I love the song too and what we love we love repeated. The lyrics are really beautiful. One falls in love and gets lost in its swirl. One projects far aware and across the boundaries of space and placement. We are in dream alive. we are not planets away but seperated by a room or a wall of wire. Thats all. Heroes is theme song for every great movie. Made remade or yet to come. We the living. We are the girl in a torn wedding dress escaping thru wire into the crown of a bullet. We are the soldier blowing kisses from the back of a train.We are drunk and raging and kneeling in/time in a dead hotel room. We are the heroes of rimbaud’s poem royalty. 2 people mystically colliding.

….En effet ils furent rois toute une matinee morning in koln, side 2 is still on. Sometimes we are the victim of the senseless anxiety accompanied with Sense Of Doubt. The man desires the immediacy of sense in/life. He stalks the stars like alien candles. Birthday scars and scars of truth and immortal love. Man desires to drift shamelessly into the realm of beauty. In the garden the birds chirp. The garden imprisons an egg which encases the breath of a quivering question. The question mark becomes the curve of a saxophone. Bowie is going to bend and pucker and blow like the pusher (pierre clemente) of steppenwolf. Instinctive as to beauty down and thru a cellar of noise into a relaxed system of notes and merge with the actor he truly is. The boys of koln cut out. The younger stayed longer. He had passion for MC5. He was going to quit school and play guitar all day. Secret life came on. I was packing for america. He was telling me how it felt when he plugged in and connected with his weapon. He was saying a lot of stuff and I was thinking about Heroes. Find them where they’re sleeping. Know them where they lie. Deep in another system. Deep in the heart and motor of the most despised cities in the world.

© Patti Smith

Tillykke til en spejder fra Mars!

Jeg deler fødselsdag med David Bowie (og fødselsår med denne blogs anden forfatter, men det er en anden snak). Denne forbindelse til Bowie gik først op for mig nogle år efter, jeg begyndte at interessere mig for ham dengang allerførst i firserne. Og i dag bliver han så tres (og det gør jeg ikke).

Fra tiden før min interesse for Bowie for alvor blev vakt kan jeg huske videoen til “Life On Mars” på TV, da jeg var dreng. Manden med flammehåret gjorde et stort indtryk! Og nogle år senere hørte jeg “Sound and Vision” på et kassettebånd. Senere, da jeg for alvor begyndte at forstå rock’n’rolls forandrende kræfter, begyndte jeg at købe mandens utallige albums, og jeg er stadig ikke færdig. Hverken færdig med at købe albums eller med at lytte til David Bowie.

David Bowie: Sanger, sangskriver, saxofonist, stildanner – men også engang stofmisbruger, selviscenesætter, særling – og i perioder småkedelig.

1970erne var Bowies storhedstid; han kunne næsten ikke gøre noget forkert eller få en ligegyldig idé. Han var producer og samarbejdspartner med Lou Reed, Iggy Pop og Brian Eno og sang duet med John Lennon.

David Bowie skabte og gjorde op med sin særlige egen hippie-optimisme, var derefter ophavsmand til noget af den eneste langtidsholdbare glamrock afsluttet med en afskedskoncert for Ziggy, flirtede med soulmusikken og genskabte derefter sig selv i samarbejdet med Tony Visconti, der på én gang foregreb og var stor inspiration for den bølge af new wave der skyllede ind over rocken sidst i 1970erne og først i 1980erne. Efter Let’s Dance kom Bowies kunstneriske nedtur med ligegyldige albums og underlige stilmanøvrer.

Retfærdigvis skal det siges, at de forkætrede Tin Machine-forsøg faktisk var indledningen på det senere så frugtbare samarbejde med Reeves Gabrels og nok i virkeligheden et lidt undervurderet kapitel.

Fra og med 1. Outside kom opturen. Denne gang ikke med så uomgængelig musik som tyve år tidligere, men med udgivelser, der både var værd at høre på og atter tog sig selv alvorligt. Samtidig fik man indtrykket af en mand, der omsider var ved at få fred med sig selv, sin alder og sin tid. Især Heathen er et lytteværdigt album fra den sene, modne Bowies hånd.

Jeg ville lave en liste over musikere, der er inspireret af Bowie, men endte med at lade være, fordi listen blev alt for lang. Herhjemme kan man tydeligt fornemme Bowies aftryk i f.eks. Michael Strunges digtning og i musikken fra Lars Hug (da denne endnu havde noget interessant på hjerte) – og Love Shop i sidste halvdel af deres karriere. Prøv at høre de lange instrumentalpassager på Anti og lyt så til Low.

Albums som Hunky Dory, Ziggy Stardust, Low og Scary Monsters (og mange flere!) bør findes i enhver ordentlig samling af rockudgivelser fra det 20. århundrede.

P.S. Jeg ledte efter mit eksemplar af Young Americans mellem de 1500 andre cd’er her til morgen – men forgæves. Det er ikke tit, jeg hører netop dét album, men når det sker, husker jeg det af en eller anden grund altid… Har nogen set min cd?

My boy

Først cyklede han Memphis og skrev autografer, siden kørte han mest i limo og drak sodapop. Her nedenunder står ordene fra hans egen fortælling om sorte biler, ambition og for tidlig død, fra det perfekte 1969-comeback-album From Elvis In Memphis. Det er hans fødselsdag nummer 72 i dag. Tillykke Elvis!


There’s a long line of mourners
Driving down our little street
Their fancy cars are such a sight to see, oh yeah
They’re all rich friends who knew you in the scene
And now they’ve finally brought you
Brought you home to me

When you left you know you told me
That some day you’d be returnin’
In a fancy car, all the town to see, oh yeah
Well now everyone is watching you
You finally had your dream, yeah
You’re ridin’ in a long black limousine

You know the papers told of how you lost your life, oh yeah
The party, the party and the fatal crash that night
Well the race along the highway, oh the curve you didn’t see
When you’re riding in that long black limousine

Through tear filled eyes I watch as you pass by, oh yeah
A chauffeur, a chauffeur at the wheel dressed up so fine
Well I never, I never, never, never
Oh my heart, all my dreams yeah, they’re with you
In that long black limousine

Yeah, yeah, they’re with you in that long black limousine
Yeah, yeah, they’re with you in that long black limousine

© Vern Stovall/Bobby George

El skudt i 1968 med ung fan ved NBC Studios.

Ingen synger blues som Jeffrey Lee


Faldt over en hvidglødende 1982-liveoptagelse med amerikanske The Gun Club, bandet der havde Jeffrey Lee Pierce som desperat frontfigur. Med deres helt egen geografiske blanding af westcoast-punk, dryppende sydstats-gloom og blues-riffs fra en nedre verden viste The Gun Club i starten af 80’erne vejen for ikke så få andre nye bands. Her i DK blev The Gun Club således krediteret som hovedinspirationskilde for den ko-punk, som DAD startede ud med, men det er at give sidstnævnte band mere credibility end dets ultrakonservative og overfladiske vaudeville-show fortjener. The Gun Club’s kreative flamme brændte hurtigt ud, sikkert som følge af Jeffrey Lee’s seriøse drugabuse, men over 3 plader – debuten Fire Of Love, Miami (+ Death Party-EP’en) og The Las Vegas Show – lykkkedes det at forløse personlig intensitet i en sangskrivning af høj, høj klasse. Jeffrey Lee Pierce, der bizart nok omkring 1980 var formand for Blondie’s amerikanske fan-club, døde i 1996, kun 38 år gammel. Da eksisterede The Gun Club stadig, men kun som en skygge af sit eget tidligere format. På billedet ovenfor ses Jeffrey Lee sammen med Kid Congo Powers, ace-guitaristen der udover Gun Club også har spillet med The Cramps og Nick Cave. Men det er en helt anden historie…


Johnny’s got a light in his eyes and Shirley’s got a light on her lips
Jakes got a monkeyshine on his head and Debra Ann’s got a tiger in her hips
They can twist and turn they can move and burn
They can throw themselves against the wall
But they creep for what they need
And they explode to the call and then they move
Sex beat, go

They’re stupid like I told ya, very stupid like ya saw
Very stupid as the simple thought of ever thinking at all
And all their mind, all their souls all their bodies all we know
All we know all the things that should a made us whole
All the colourless security was all that someone could go and move, move
Sex beat, drop

And yes you do look cool and by the floodlights so blue
You make my tropical apartment bed, your sacrificial pool
My body in the water and my heart is in your hand
So this is the way you choose to send me to the judgement land
So you can’t move, move oohh..sex beat, go

And every day I agree you throw me down by the christmas tree
I watched your lights blink on and off while you start your fun with me
I, I know your reasons and I, I know your goals
We can fuck forever but you will never get my soul
Just so you can move
So you can move
So you can move
So you can move so you can
Oohh…sex beat

© Jeffrey Lee-Pierce

Sweet Stipe music

Når man ser og hører dem i dag, som en meget fasttømret enhed, der nærmest synes lidt udmattet af sin egen mægtige historie, er det svært at huske R.E.M. som det lille band, der voksede ud af Athens, Georgia og næsten egenhændigt reddede amerikansk rockmusik, som vi har lyst til at kende den. Men sådan var virkeligheden og de fleste af os, der hørte deres første forfinede musik, der på én gang lød lidt af The Byrds og lidt af The Band og meget af noget helt nyt, endnu ikke kortlagt, har siden haft svært ved at glemme den oplevelse af uspoleret skønhed, vi fandt der. R.E.M. voksede sig med årene kæmpestore og mistede undervejs, som det selvfølgelig sker, meget af den soniske uskyld og charme, vi umiddelbart faldt for. Michael Stipe, forsanger og tekstforfatter i særklasse, bliver i dag 47 år – det fejrer vi her med en ordret gengivelse af den for Stipe så typisk stream-of-conciousness-skrevne E-Bow The Letter, et bevis på at han og R.E.M. endnu, selv i de senere, for dem lidt fattige år, er leveringsdygtige i sublime oplevelser.


Look up, what do you see?
All of you and all of me
Fluorescent and starry
Some of them, they surprise

The bus ride, I went to write this, 4:00 a.m.
This letter
Fields of poppies, little pearls
All the boys and all the girls sweet-toothed
Each and every one a little scary
I said your name

I wore it like a badge of teenage film stars
Hash bars, cherry mash and tinfoil tiaras
Dreaming of Maria Callas
Whoever she is
This fame thing, I don’t get it
I wrap my hand in plastic to try to look through it
Maybelline eyes and girl-as-boy moves
I can take you far
This star thing, I don’t get it

I’ll take you over, there
I’ll take you over, there
Aluminum, tastes like fear
Adrenaline, it pulls us near

I’ll take you over
It tastes like fear, there
I’ll take you over

Will you live to 83?
Will you ever welcome me?
Will you show me something that nobody else has seen?
Smoke it, drink
Here comes the flood
Anything to thin the blood
These corrosives do their magic slowly and sweet
Phone, eat it, drink
Just another chink
Cuts and dents, they catch the light
Aluminum, the weakest link

I don’t want to disappoint you
I’m not here to anoint you
I would lick your feet
But is that the sickest move?
I wear my own crown and sadness and sorrow
And who’d have thought tomorrow could be so strange?
My loss, and here we go again

I’ll take you over, there
I’ll take you over, there
Aluminum, tastes like fear
Adrenaline, it pulls us near

I’ll take you over
It tastes like fear, there
I’ll take you over

Look up, what do you see?
All of you and all of me
Fluorescent and starry
Some of them, they surprise

I can’t look it in the eyes
Seconal, Spanish fly, absinthe, kerosene
Cherry-flavored neck and collar
I can smell the sorrow on your breath
The sweat, the victory and sorrow
The smell of fear, I got it

I’ll take you over, there
I’ll take you over, there
Aluminum, tastes like fear
Adrenaline, it pulls us near

I’ll take you over
It tastes like fear, there
I’ll take you over

Pulls us near
Tastes like fear.

Nearer, nearer
Over, over, over, over
Yeah, look over
I’ll take you there, oh, yeah
I’ll take you there
Oh, over
I’ll take you there
Over, let me
I’ll take you there..
There, there, baby, yeah

© Stipe, Buck, Mills, Berry


Sweet soul music


Havde Nina Simone indspillet for Tamla-Motown i 1965, kunne det have lydt ca. sådan, som på Amy Winehouse’s overlegne og vanedannende Rehab-hit, hvis emne til gengæld heldigvis er strictly her og nu.


They tried to make me go to rehab,I said no, no, no
Yes I been black but when I come back,no, no, no
I ain’t got the time
And if my daddy thinks I’m fine
You’s tried to make me go to rehab I won’t go, go, go

I’d rather be at home with Ray
I ain’t got seventy days
Cos there’s nothing,there’s nothing you can’t teach me
That I can’t learn from Mr Hathaway

I didn’t get a lot in class
But I know we don’t come in a shot glass

They tried to make me go to rehab but I said no, no, no
Yes I been black but when I come back no, no, no
I ain’t got the time
And if my daddy thinks I’m fine
You’s tried to make me go to rehab I won’t go, go, go

The man said why do you think you here?
I said I got no idea
I’m gonna,i’m gonna lose my baby
So I always keep a bottle near
He said I just think you’re depressed
Kiss me here baby and go rest

They tried to make me go to rehab but I said no, no, no
Yes I been black but when I come back oh no, no, no

I don’t ever want to drink again
I just, ooh I need a friend
I’m not gonna spend ten weeks
Have everyone think I’m on the mend

And it’s not just my pride
It’s just til these tears have dried

They tried to make me go to rehab but I said no, no, no
Yes I been black but when I come back no, no, no
I ain’t got the time
And if my daddy thinks I’m fine
You’s tried to make me go to rehab but I won’t go, go, go

© Amy Winehouse




1. januar 1997, altså for ti år siden i dag, døde den fremragende sangskriver og sanger Townes Van Zandt. Mange af os er nok først blevet introduceret for Townes gennem sidste års Rhonda Harris-udgivelse Tell The World We Tried, hvor Nikolaj Nørlund synger ti af hans allerbedste sange i nogle åbne og meget vellykkede versioner. Ordene til en af disse, Waiting Around To Die, iøvrigt den første sang Townes nogensinde skrev, kan ses her nedenfor – noget af en usentimental begyndelse. Udover Rhonda Harris’ Tell The World We Tried og selvfølgelig Townes Van Zandt’s egne plader, skal også filmen Be Here To Love Me, en sand doku-perle om og med ham, anbefales her. I netop den udtaler Townes om sin musik, at han regner med den vil vare længere end hans egen livsbane. En sand profeti, skulle det hurtigt vise sig. Oplev Waiting Around To Die: http://youtube.com/watch?v=xTGKzWDakK8


Sometimes I dont know where
This dirty road is taking me
Sometimes I can’t even see the reason why
I guess I keep a-gamblin’
Lots of booze and lots of ramblin’
Its easier than just waitin’ around to die

One time, friends, I had a ma
I even had a pa
He beat her with a belt once cause she cried
She told him to take care of me
Headed down to Tennessee
Its easier than just waitin’ around to die

I came of age and I found a girl
In a Tuscaloosa bar
She cleaned me out and hit in on the sly
I tried to kill the pain, bought some wine
And hopped a train
Seemed easier than just waitin’ around to die

A friend said he knew
Where some easy money was
We robbed a man, and brother did we fly
The posse caught up with me
And drug me back to Muskogee
It’s two long years I’ve been waitin’ around to die

Now I’m out of prison
I got me a friend at last
He don’t drink or steal or cheat or lie
His name’s codine
He’s the nicest thing I’ve seen
Together we’re gonna wait around and die
Together we’re gonna wait around and die

© Townes Van Zandt



Før de ramte topformen udgav The Replacements i 1981 spådoms-sangen Johnny’s Gonna Die, om too-much-too-soon-personen Johnny Thunders, hvis vilde liv ikke blot antydede den utidige skæbne, han mere end bare speedede mod. Thunders, med fortid i såvel New York Dolls som The Heartbreakers, døde i New Orleans i 1991, akkurat ligeså kæntret som sangen beskriver, men ikke før han i eget navn havde udsendt et par fine, kaotiske rocknroll-plader, hvoraf den nok bedste, So Alone, indeholder NY-klassikeren You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory, der siden både er blevet indspillet af Ronnie Spector og i Thunders’ uovertrufne original-version har lukket et Sopranos-afsnit af i stor, desillusioneret stil.


Johnny always takes more than he needs
Knows a couple chords, knows a couple leads
Johnny always needs more than he takes
Forgets a couple of chords, forgets a couple of breaks
And everybody tells me Johnny is hot
Johnny needs something that he ain’t got

And Johnny’s gonna die
Johnny’s gonna die
Johnny’s gonna die

Everybody stares and everybody hoots
Johnny always needs more than he shoots
Standing by a beach and there ain’t no lake
He’s got friends without no guts, friends that never ache
In New York City, I guess it’s cool when it’s dark
There’s one sure way, Johnny, you can leave your mark

© Paul Westerberg


It doesn’t pay to try
All the smart boys know why
It doesn’t mean I didn’t try
I just never know why
Feel so cold and all alone
Cause baby you’re not at home
And when I’m home
Big deal I’m still alone.

Feel so restless I am
Beat my head against a pole
Try to knock some sense
Down in my bones
And even though they don’t show
The scars aren’t so old
And when they go
They let you know

You can’t put your arms around a memory
You can’t put your arms around a memory
You can’t put your arms around a memory
Don’t try don’t try

You’re just a bastard kid
And you got no name
Cause you’re living with me
We’re one and the same
And even though they dont show
They scars aren’t so old
And when they go
They let you know

You can’t put your arms around a memory
You can’t put your arms around a memory
You can’t put your arms around a memory
Don’t try don’t try

© Johnny Thunders

Pas på hånden!


Lillejuleaftensdag om formiddagen ville jeg fjerne en knast på juletræet med en sav. Men… jeg måtte en tur på skadestuen for at blive syet. Det er ikke gratis at save sig i hånden! Heldigvis var ingen nerver eller sener blevet ramt, og om en uges tid kan stingene formodentlig fjernes.

Desværre har Paul Westerberg ganske få dage forinden været ude for et tilsvarende julerelateret uheld, bare meget værre. Og i modsætning til mig har han guitaren som vigtigt arbejdsredskab. Læs mere på


Lad os sende ham en tanke i den kommende tid – især nytårsaftensdag, hvor han bliver 48.

Farvel, James Brown


Denne julemorgen 2006 har jeg netop set, at James Brown er død. Jeg var altid temmelig skeptisk over for hans værk, men måske skyldes det mere en kombination af den status som pseudo-hip, han fik i firserne, og at nogle af hans handlinger var så usympatiske: Støtten til Reagan, dommene for hustruvold… Han har aldrig været højt på min liste, og jeg ved at min medforfatter deler denne vurdering. Talrige er dog i al fald de musikere, James Brown har inspireret.

Og jeg husker endnu, hvordan jeg en dag i Glasgow for snart mange år siden hørte Henry Rollins tale varmt og længe om hans Live at the Apollo Vol. 3 og har lovet mig selv, at jeg en dag vil høre netop dét album. Det løfte vil jeg naturligvis holde.

Joe Strummer


Tiden er på speed og i dag, d. 22. december, er det allerede 4 år siden Joe Strummer, strålende lys og tidligere frontfigur i The Clash, faldt for hjerteslag, kun 50 år gammel. Hans musik er dog stadig så levende, at vi i anstændighedens navn markerer både den og Joe Strummer selv her.


Its up to you not to heed the call-up
You must not act the way you were brought up
Who knows the reasons why you have grown up?
Who knows the plans or why they were drawn up?

Its up to you not to heed the call-up
I dont wanna die!
Its up to you not to hear the call-up
I dont wanna kill!

For he who will die
Is he who will kill

Maybe I wanna see the wheatfields
Over Kiev and down to the sea

All the young people down the ages
They gladly marched off to die
Proud city fathers used to watch them
Tears in their eyes

There is a rose that I want to live for
Although, God knows, I may not have met her
There is a dance an I should be with her
There is a town unlike any other

Its up to you not to hear the call-up
You must not act the way you were brought up
Who give you work an why should you do it?
At fifty five minutes past eleven
There is a rose…

© Strummer/Jones

Og Politiken

Opsigtsvækkende SÅ stor forskel der er listerne imellem. Politikens favorit-udlænding i år synes jeg var noget af en stor skuffelse, men sådan er der vel så meget:

De udenlandske
1. Red Hot Chili Peppers – Stadium Arcadium
2. Gnarls Barkley – St. Elsewhere
3. Tom Waits – Orphans
4. Jenny Wilson – Love & Youth
5. Thåström – Skebokvärnsv. 209
6. The Knife – Silent Shout
7. John Legend – Once Again
8. Bob Dylan – Modern Times
9. Neil Diamond – 12 Songs
10. Thom Yorke – Eraser

De danske:
1. Kim Larsen – Gammel Hankat
2. Trentemøller – The Last Resort
3. Peter Sommer – Destruktive Vokaler
4. Kenneth Bager – Fragments From A Space Cadet
5. Band Ane – Anish Music
6. Murder – Stockholm Syndrome
7. Mikael Simpson – Stille & Uroligt
8. Marie Key Band – 10
9. Caroline Henderson – Love Or Nothin’
10. Nephew – Internet Kom Ind