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soaked his pillow, London panicked before a hesitant song reptile. One

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MWdM9sFsrAQ

You know, I think this kind of democratization of (good) music is one of the themes most horrendous of all. My selfishness. I illustrate.

This Sunday morning, reading watching TV and not paying attention to what was going on, the instrumental Last Nite resounded Automoto. I say that it changed the background T Justin usual, that someone was working on TF1 valid, and I am plunged back without too much agonizing in my book.

But later, when Fake Tales Of San Fransisco served soundtrack to the epic tenacious Makelele, I was shivering. It took me no more so that this time is that too. How many times must we put up the display of our precious musical culture so badly exposed to the ears of inattentive listeners and sufficient emission star treatment or kitchen? This is an example Benin and ultimately unimportant, which has none. Why I am attadre?

The risk lies in the tabloids and radio celebrities . Indeed, see Pete open fly or learn that it has an aristocratic English speaker is important to us few, us "lovers". But the reader who delights in asshole voyeurism and contemplation of the new shade of hair Winehouse does not feel the need to see the other side of these characters, to recognize that they are above all artists , to admit that he has no desire to leave his sceptissisme . Judged.

The enemy par excellence is and remains still NRJ. Appropriating so revolting really talented people to make a profit eventually discourage the pioneers who had discovered before their little sisters do hums and dirty the image of hip hop, why I feel so tenderness.

And have you ever felt the indignation at the sight of gifs from Heart In A Cage when Nick drops his guitar atop a building and that Jules, lying, marched his fingers on the asphalt, blogs of people who do not visibly where these beautiful pictures were taken? The rock is unfortunately hype, and by definition, the hype is populist. (And not popular.) Aufait ... This summer will folk. The danger this time we bite the myth of Woodstock shirts, liberty and artists like Devendra, Patrick Watson and Alela Diane.

The Weathervane is stifling.

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wackly weekend

Air polyphonic shrill me from my sleep, pale light yellow trains in the morning, gray and blue luxury seats on Eurostar, the superb metal canopy of the new St Pancras station and finally, Thursday, December 3 at 9:30 am just put your foot on the ground in London, a whole atmoshere engulfed me. A simple breath enough to mount a fresh feel joy. Then everything started to speed effreinée ... Bloomsbury intellectual : Traveloge the musty, pretty aggressive squirrel and squeezed greyhounds of Russell Square, the essential (it depends for whom) British Museum, the different stores quaint ... Hampstead the typical granny : old facades, tea time in a Hungarian pastry with gilding and Earl Grey stunning, rich houses with manicured gardens, the shops of yesteryear and the adorable thrift stores ... The City's financial : the rain, the world teeming, umbrellas which avoid each of them, the buildings that rise more than impressive in their hundreds of meters long, glass and steel .. . Shoredicht the dark beloved : alluciantes his boxes, Absolute Vintage, the winding streets a bit cut-throat, Dray Walk, Rough Trade East on beautiful Rough Trade East on hypissime (Temple of the independent London-based label of Libs and institution for lovers of vinyl and CD's of all kinds, both say that I was on the verge of fainting. Additionally, prices were all that it is more reasonable, I did not ask ...), made Brick Lane ...

The next day, the inevitable tourist center, Regent Street, Piccadilly Circus, which has its last breathtaking anything, dribbling envious collections Marc Jacobs, Alexander McQueen and Chloe spring / summer at Liberty the expansive Hyde Park, Oxford Street no less immense, Selfriges, TopShop, Urban Outfitters & co ... that eventually proved disappointing, Old Bond Street and New Bond Street, just circles between the Faubourg St Honore became popular and the frigid Avenue Montaigne, the height of luxury without being intimidating (but still unaffordable malgas all), showcases his more than neat ... Then came the terrible Carnaby Street and adjacent streets, its impressive decorations for Christmas, its creators unknown among them Klaxons (and me) Fourie, pubs and overcrowded incoyables colorful youth and old socialize outside drinking their Guinness in the absence of seats inside, and above all, Berwick Street and Sister Ray record shop in sublime turquoise walls where are hung t-shirts "Closer" or Crystal Castles, an amazing soundtrack and an impressive selection, next: Reckless Records, smaller but equally sharp ... Soho the very beautiful I love you. The evening concert at the Metro Club Mohanski. Good. The third and final day, sunny this time, the repulsive Notting Hill and Portobello Market, where everything is false and overrun with tourists, where the houses are pastel pink, where Orwell lived, where the plates have wind Abbey Road and ugly t-shirts i love london or Jack Daniels, which I thought Adrien BB Brunes crossed with Ray Ban and blonde on his arm (I never know, but the question does torments me any more than that), that said, luckily there are three Rough Trade in London, including a smaller one in Notting Hill, I therefore take this opportunity to go back hehe. Then the afternoon was completely ruined by my little health. Taking severe headache and an urge to vomit at Harvey & Nichols, livid, I rush in the first pharamacien comes, Pakistan, who greeted me with warmth and telephoned a doctor (who m 'was first predicted alcohol abuse, and food poisoning). I graciously throws fours in their toilets moultes times and I fell asleep on a couch amid disemboweled store. After this detailed murky causes bad memories and screwed up a good part of the day, Harrod's. Still immensely extended. T-Shirt Paul Smith, stifling heat and jasmine tea, this is what I removed from the ever-present home. And then, running in the underground train to resume, and kindly go to bed after long epics feroviaires, memories by the handful. We notice that nothing has changed, the clothing style London hotel is always eccentric, fun and beautiful as ours, always allergy group American (no Strokes nothing), having found little disappointment or These New Puritans nor Mando Diao ... The food is always more than disgusting. The myth is not one. Nothing edible except for a sandwich or coffee from Starbucks. But we love, we love ...

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A band Swiss investor (after waking up late) my brain so loud, overloading weight which I hope will be short lived with an address in my stomach and my eyes are now inhabited an unspeakable void, on the first day of the year, I saw something better to do than start a blog. Yes. Skyblog not ceasing to fall freely in my esteem and helping people moving, weariness and desire for renewal soon became apparent. So here -or-knackered converse . I would gladly Resit presentations customary beginnings blog, but I obediently bend me anyway.

I age when his dream life, I live in a strange and lovely country to the brink of schism. I love music more than reason, I deified, in fact condoning, appointed as supreme art because, is not the best of seven of its form? I draw I column, I get dressed, I read, I sing off, I travel, I go to the movies, but I do not work. For I should because I feel falling into the throes of soft craft dunce. Lack of will, kindness, melancholy, listlessness, and quiet reverie incorporate my personality. Has no career plans. Passionate dandyism, rock'n'roll, attention to detail and materials, outdated.
Hypocrisy periodic and users summons me to wish you at the dawn of this new year, full good things.