Took a random spin through my library just now and this pops up, of course. From Live at Sin-é circa 1993. How anyone or anything ever sounded this good still blows me away.
And one last song for today, this time my all time favourite Irish song, Cad é sin don té sin, sang as Gaeilge with at least two pronunciation errors. :D
tuigim go hiomlán nuair atá díomá ar daoine faoina téarma críostaí sa ghaeilge mar is deacair gan creideamh sna rudaí sin nó whatever ach ní mhaith liom nuair atá daoine ag tabhairt amach faoi sin mar toradh choilínithe agus ag caint faoina seantéarma, caillte de dheasca coilíniú críostaí. like bhí an teanga difriúil go hiomlán ag an am sin. ní raibh siad ag labhairt i nua-ghaeilge. ní raibh siad ag úsáid sean-ghaeilge fosta. bhí an teanga níos sine fiú ná sin táimid ag caint faoin 1500+ bliain ó shin. mar sin bhí téarma difriúla ann, go cinnte, ach ní raibh siad sa frásaí cosúil leis na frásaí seo, bhí achan rud difriúil agus ní bheadh a lán cosúlachtaí idir an teanga sin agus an nua-ghaeilge in aon cás
TALENTS sporting the imprint of famous genetic forbears inspire suspicion and derision in equal measure; look no further than Julian Lennon's career for elucidation.
Jeff's dad — the exuberant, libido-crazed, free-form funkateer and jazz stylist Tim Buckley — was a unique force; since his death, few have approached his highwire daring and adventure.
Now comes the son he hardly knew, holding court in a boho New York singer-songwriter showcase cafe, bearing an astonishing physical and aural resemblance to his father.
Elongated acoustic workouts, coaxed into being by vocal moans, cries, curves and yowling volleys. Big swooping diversions counterpointed with angelic gasps and gleeful tail-kissing departures — it's all a little uncanny, unsettling; eyebrows are raised, questions asked. This four-track EP — counted as an album, due to its length — is a bet-hedging work-in-progress introduction to the Buckley Jr groove thing. Though bristling with dynamic interplay between voice and guitar, it veers to the histrionic, making prospects for his future career seem both tantalising and daunting.
On 'Eternal Life', his highflying conceits narrow and harden into a simplistic new aquarian worldview, cheating the performance of the emotion it aims for. 'Mojo Pin' raids the Led Zeppelin ballad blues style to good effect, but his ten-minute scat rework of Van's 'Young Lovers Do' is a pointless and ponderous exercise in grandstanding.
Buckley is certainly a talent of his own making; Edith Piaf's 'Je N'en Connais Pas La Fin' is both focused and totally disarming. Live At Sin-é captures Buckley still shaping his identity, hopefully the promise it displays will come to fruition on his forthcoming (real) album. (6)