Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta Diamanda Galás. Mostrar todas as mensagens
Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta Diamanda Galás. Mostrar todas as mensagens

segunda-feira, janeiro 12, 2009

Sugestão Musical

Alienação. Horror. Manipulação psicológica. Desespero. Sofrimento.
Tudo isto se encontra em abundância no disco "Schrei X" de Diamanda Galás. No interior do disco encontramos uma advertência: tocar o disco no volume máximo pois não se trata de música ambiente. Logo após os primeiros segundos entramos no universo de Diamanda Galás, onde ela grita, geme, pratica glossolalia e arranha, arrasando-nos completamente com a sua voz que atinge uma série de três oitavas e meia. Para muitos (eu, incluído) este trabalho é um prazer auditivo; para outros tantos trata-se de uma tortura auditiva.






SCHREI X
1996 - MUTE

Schrei X live:
01: Do Room
02: I— I Am— Dreams
03: M Dis I
04: O.P.M.
05: Abasement
06: Headbox
07: Cunt
08: Hepar
09: Coitum
10: Vein
11: M Dis II
12: Smell
13: Hee Shock Die

Schrei 27:
01: Do Room
02: I I
03: M Dis I
04: O.P.M.
05: Headbox
06: Cunt
07: Hepar
08: Vein
09: M Dis II
10: Smell
11: Hee Shock Die

terça-feira, dezembro 18, 2007

"O vivo e insondável desejo da alma de atormentar-se a si mesma, de violentar a sua própria natureza, de fazer o mal pelo próprio mal, foi o que me levou a continuar e, afinal, a levar a cabo o suplício que infligira ao inofensivo animal. Uma manhã, a sangue frio, meti-lhe um nó corredio em torno do pescoço e enforquei-o no galho de uma árvore. Fi-lo com os olhos cheios de lágrimas, com o coração transbordante do mais amargo remorso. Enforquei-o porque sabia que ele me amara, e porque reconhecia que não me dera motivo algum para que me voltasse contra ele. Enforquei-o porque sabia que estava cometendo um pecado - um pecado mortal que comprometia a minha alma imortal, afastando-a, se é que isso era possível, da misericórdia infinita de um Deus infinitamente misericordioso e infinitamente terrível."
Texto: Excerto de "The Black Cat" de Edgar Allan Poe
Imagem: A minha linda Maria Alexandra

Sempre tive uma grande adversão aos "audio-books". Onde está o prazer de ouvir alguém a narrar uma história, um poema ou uma notícia? Onde está o maravilhoso odor de um livro a ser desfolhado?
Porém, existem excepções. Afinal, poucas são as regras sem excepções... Aqui está o link através do qual podem ouvir todo o conto "The Black Cat" de Edgar Allan Poe, narrado pela extraordinária Diamanda Galás, uma cantora, poetisa e compositora, com capacidade de nos transportar numa viagem ao Inferno... usando apenas a sua voz.

quarta-feira, julho 18, 2007

Eyes With No Blood

Diamanda Galás período sobre a manipulação psicológica.

"Um processo pelo qual se consegue modelar os sentimentos humanos: as lágrimas são derramadas com o olho esquerdo, favorecendo as causas revolucionárias e prejudicando as boas." - Javier González

sábado, janeiro 27, 2007

Lamma, Lamma Sabacthani

"God, why have you condemned me?
Mavpes Apakvuthes!
Why have you forsaken me?
This is my blood,
This is my body,
These are my veins.

I am blind
God, I cannot see!
Mavpes Apakvuthes!
Why have you forsaken me?
Birds of death
Take my life!

Why,
Why have you forsaken me?

Texto: Diamanda Galás
Imagem: "Cinzas" de Edvard Munch (1894)

terça-feira, novembro 21, 2006

Why? Why Can't I Watch a Diamanda Galás Show?

Neste preciso momento Diamanda Galás, uma das minhas artistas predilectas, encontra-se a actuar no Centro Cultural de Belém...

Nunca assisti a um concerto desta senhora...

Adorava...

Motivos pessoais me impedem...

Desespero, imaginando como estará a decorrer um dos espectáculos que mais ambiciono assistir...



Clip: Diamanda Galás; "Gloomy Sunday"

quarta-feira, setembro 13, 2006

The Orders From The Dead

Um post tão negro quanto o meu estado de espírito de momento.
Será que isso condiciona a nossa leitura?
Será que isso condiciona os nossos "posts"?
(Post não recomendável a pessoas sensíveis.)

THE WORLD IS GOING UP IN FLAMES
THE WORLD IS GOING UP IN FLAMES
THE WORLD IS GOING UP IN FLAMES

But this flames are NOT new to OUR dead
OUR dead did cry their final prayer in those flames
Our dead did sing their last lullaby in those flames
Our dead prayed to our infidelite GOD in those flames
Our dead whispered a last goodbye to their mother
IN THOSE FLAMES

THE WORLD IS GOING UP IN FLAMES

OUR dead clawed their children close in
THE WORLD IS GOING UP IN FLAMES
OUR dead watched their daughters
BUTCHED, RAPED AND BEATEN
in the still-burning of THOSE FLAMES
OUR dead watched an ax remove their mother's skull
and crown a wooden spit
in the continuous burning of THOSE FLAMES
OUR DEAD watched while Chrysotomos eyes and tongue were pulled out,
teeth and fingers broken, one by one,
in the laughing and the cheering OF THOSE FLAMES

OUR DEAD watched their sisters drenched with gasoline
and scream with melting skin
"THE WORLD IS GOING UP IN FLAMES!"
OUR DEAD gave birth to Turkish victories
the gurgling and then dying trophy,
on a bayonet which marked the borders of
THE WORLD IS GOING UP IN FLAMES

OUR DEAD WERE DRAGGED IN MARCHES
THROUGH THE DESERT SUN
FOR WEEKS UNTIL THE SUN BURNED OUT THEIR LUNGS
and when the desert sun which was burning them like flames
ripped apart their lips, we heard the final prayer
"LORD, GOD HAVE MERCY LORD UPON OUR SOULS!"
They saw the WORLD IS GOING UP IN FLAMES
buried, not yet dead inside the pits
engraved:
"GIAOURI, INFIDELI:
OUR GOD HAS CHOSEN YOU TO DIE"

And now the unblessed dead have ordered us to say:
THIS is my GRAVE, MY HOLY BED
You cannot take it
YOU can NOT ERASE MY NAME
YOU can NOT ERASE OUR DEAD
YOU can NOT ERASE THE DEAD
Because we have been ordered now
to list their names, their numbers,
to give their date of birth, their earthly city,
their father's name, the sweetness of their mother's eyes

GOODBYE

GOODBYE

GOODBYE
and forevermore
We'll see you when the desert meets the sky
But do not FORGET MY NAME

And so these were the orders from the dead
said without a word but with a final glance:
the

SECOND

granted to the Indifel
since a infidelite Hell
should NOT require a prayer
should NOT require a silent moment
And now the Infidel is told
to forgive and to forget
to understand
Advance into a paradise of Dead Memories
of Living Dead, the Old Folks Home
of Catatonia
of Madness
and Despair.
Do not ask me for the NUMBER of that Grave
It has been stolen.
What IS this love for bones and dirt?
Put this ancient thing behind you, Infidelite
You HAVE no claim to GOD
You HAVE no claim to PEACE
You HAVE no claim to JOY

YOU HAVE NO CLAIM

YOU HAVE NO CLAIM

YOU HAVE NO CLAIM

GIAVOURI!!!!

Remember just how lucky, sperm of Satan,
that you are:
to even BE
alive.

NOW!

HERE!

ACROSS THE SEA!

GIAVOUR!

You HAVE no GOD.

A man without a God
Can NOT be burned ALIVE
He never WAS alive,
not as a MAN, giavour,
but as a DOG."

BUT I HAVE ORDERS FROM THE DEAD that warn me:
"DO NOT FORGET ME:
My blood will fill the air you breathe
FOREVER

MY DEATHBIRD is NOT DEAD

HE CARRIES ALL MY TEETH:

MY SMILE OF UNFORGETFULNESS,

MY LAUGH!

VRYKOLAKA!

I am the man unburied
who CANNOT sleep
IN FORTY PIECES!!!!!
I am the girl,
dismembered
and unblessed,
I am the open mouth
that drags your flesh
and will never rest

until

MY DEATH IS WRITTEN
IN A ROCK
THAT CAN NOT BE BROKEN!"

And these are the orders
from The Dead.

Texto: "The Orders from the Dead" de Diamanda Galás de "Defixiones, Will and Testament;
Imagem: "Auto-de-Fé" de Elio Copetti

sábado, julho 29, 2006

Saint Of The Pit

Diamanda Galás... No seu melhor

segunda-feira, junho 26, 2006

Panoptikon

"I have became a stranger to my own needs and desires
I look and see things that are not there.
And I ask myself
And I ask
And I ask
And I ask
And I ask
I say:

What is my name?
What is my name?
What is my name?
What is my...

What is your name, darling
What is your name, angel
What is your name, honey
What is your name, baby
What is your name, baby
What is your name, baby

Your name is that of a condemned man
Your name is that of a condemned man
You have no name

We both had knows
High school education"
Imagem: Diamanda Galás
Texto: Panoptikon; de "The Shit of God: The Texts of Diamanda Galás"

sexta-feira, março 31, 2006

Malediction & Prayer

They're buildin' the gallows outside my cell
I got 25 minutes to go. And in 25 minutes I'll be in Hell
I got 24 minutes to go.
Well, they give me some beans for my last meal
23 minutes to go.
And you know... nobody asked me how I feel
I got 22 minutes to go.
So, I wrote to the Gov'nor... the whole damned bunch
Ahhh... 21 minutes to go.
And I call up the Mayor, but he's out to lunch
I got 20 more minutes to go.
Well, the sheriff says, "Girl I'm gonna watch you die"
19 more minutes to go.
I spit on his eye... and laughed in his face
But 18 minutes to go.
Well... I call out to the Warden to hear my plea
17 minutes to go
He says, "Call me back in a week or three
You've got 16 minutes to go."
Well, my lawyer say's he's sorry he missed my case
Mmmm... 15 minutes to go
Yeah, well if you're so sorry, come up and take my place
I got 14 minutes to go.
Here comes the preacher to save my soul
With 13 minutes to go.
And his talkin' about burnin' but I'm so damned cold
I got 12 more minutes to go.
Now they're testin' the trap and chills my spine
11 more minutes to go.
And the trap and the rope they're work just fine
But 10 more minutes to go
I'm waiting for the pardon... gonna set me free
With 9 minutes to go.
But this is for real so forget about me
Got 8 more minutes to go
And now I'm climbin up the ladder with a scaffold peg
I got 6 more minutes to go.
With my feet on the trap and my head in the noose...
5 more minutes to go.
Well somebody come and cute me loose
I got 4 more minutes to go.
I can see the mountains, I can see the sky...
3 more minutes to go...
And it's too damned pretty for a woman to die...
2 more minutes to go...
I can see the buzzards... I can see the crows...
1 more minut to go...
And now I'm swingin' and here I... gooooooooooo...

Adaptação de Diamanda Galás de "25 More Minutes to Go"

sexta-feira, novembro 18, 2005

Michael Nyman e eu, Diamanda Galás e eu...

Estou zangado!
Porque não moro mais para o centro do país em vez de aos pés de Lisboa plantado? Este ano já perdi dois espectáculos que ocorreram no Porto. O primeiro foi o de Diamanda Galás na Casa da Música... "Existirão outras oportunidades", pensei. Hoje vou perder outro... Michael Nyman a executar a música que ele compôs para o filme mudo made in União Soviética, "Man With a Movie Camera". Esta sensação de perda apagar-se-á se eu der a mim mesmo umas palmadinhas nas costas e disser: "existirão outras oportunidades?"...
Ainda estou à espera de me ver a perder um espectáculo de Philip Glass...
Não, isso não! Já perdi a ópera "White Raven" na Expo 98, mas isso foi apenas um pequeno deslize... Nem que ele vá à mais recôndita terrinha em Trás-os-Montes, eu estarei lá! Algo me diz que não serei o único...