Η Φωνή του Καΐρου από το Παρίσι

Στο 1 ο Abdullah Miniawy και οι  Le Cri du Caire στο Le Cri du Caire

 

Μια περιπέτεια στο Bristol

Στο 2 Blanck Mass ''The Rig'' 

Από τη Μόσχα για τάρτα φράουλα στο Café Baier στο Βερολίνο

Στο 3 η Mary Ocher και το Approaching Singularity: Music for The End of Time

 

Η Διαδρομή

Στο 4 οι Lankum στο ''False Lankum'' 

 

Ο Θεός ζητιανεύει τον Παράδεισο

 Στο 5 οι Swans και το The Beggar

Η Sama' Abdulhadi από την Ramallah της Παλαιστίνης είναι Βασίλισσα. Η Βασίλισσα της Techno

Χωρίς Λόγια.

Στο 6  fabric presents Sama' Abdulhadi (DJ Mix)

 

Ένα μπουκάλι Sahara Red, acid και μπάλα στο ασπρόμαυρο Παρίσι

                                                   From Algiers to Paris, a journey of sound,

Where East meets West, a vibrant bound.

Acid Arab, the fusion maestros,

Their music bridges cultures, erases borders.

 

Algerian gasba, Anatolian trance,

Synthetic dabkeh, bionic raï's dance.

A tapestry of sounds, a symphony so bold,

Their melodies ignite, stories unfold.

 

Through collaborations and travels grand,

They've sampled the world, with an open hand.

From Morocco's dunes to Cairo's allure,

Their music weaves magic, ever pure.

 

Breaking boundaries, genres defying,

Acid Arab are pioneers, forever vying.

With every beat, they transcend and soar,

A fusion of cultures, forevermore.

 

Oh, Acid Arab, your music's a spell,

Uniting hearts, where borders fell.

From Algiers to Paris, the world's your stage,

Your melodies ignite, with vibrant rage.

 

So let the music play, let the rhythms ignite,

Acid Arab's legacy, shining ever bright.

A fusion of souls, a connection so true,

In their music we find, a world anew.

Στο 7 Acid Arab και  ٣ (Trois)

 

Χιλή 2014 - Κυκλοφορεί το ''Nicolás tiene dos papás'' που σήμερα διανέμεται δωρεάν στα νηπιαγωγεία

                                                   On the distant edge of the continent wide,

Where Chile's spirit and passion reside,

Avaton tonight takes flight, bold and free,

To Santiago, where a soul awaits, you see.

 

Domingæ Garcia Huidobro stands strong,

Queer frontperson of Föllakzoid's song.

Daring and bold, breaking barriers wide,

In the heart of Latin America, side by side.

 

Together they journey through the vibrant streets

To demonstrate for love where two worlds meet.

LGBTQIA2S+ rights, their noble cause,

Defiantly dancing, breaking unjust laws.

 

Frontman or frontwoman, a label to transcend,

In the realm of music, identities blend.

Föllakzoid's notes echo, a powerful sound,

In the heart of Santiago, freedom is found.

 

V, the album, a beacon of trance,

Dark techno rhythms, a hypnotic dance.

Notes weaving stories of strength and pride,

As they march for justice, with love as their guide.

 

Streets come alive under the night sky's gleam,

As Föllakzoid's rhythms fuel the dream.

A celebration of love, a kaleidoscope of light,

In Santiago, they dance, fierce and bright.

 

Avaton and Domingæ, a fusion so rare,

A journey of passion, a fervent affair.

In the rhythm of V, their voices unite,

For the LBTQIA+ community, they ignite.

 

So let the beats echo through the Chilean air,

As they dance for love, with courage to spare.

In Santiago's embrace, under the moon's gentle sway,

They write a new chapter, a powerful display.

Στο 8 Föllakzoid και V

Χάος, pints και βρώμικο στο σπίτι ενός άγνωστου δίπλα στη Hacienda

In Manchester's vibrant heart, where music takes its stand,

Avaton strolled, a soul with spirit untamed.

Through Hacienda's labyrinthine halls he wandered,

Amidst the echoes of a night that danced and pondered.

 

Suddenly, a melody, a voice so clear and true,

"Souris, souris, souris, souris," it pierced the air, so blue.

Avaton turned, his eyes wide with delight,

To find the source of this enchanting night.

 

A stranger stood there, arms outstretched, a grin so wide,

Inviting Avaton into his humble abode inside.

Through a doorway they ventured, into a haven of warmth,

Where laughter and chatter filled the air and filled the form.

 

Avaton's thirst grew, an insatiable thirst,

As he joined the stranger in this underground work.

The man produced a bottle, its liquid dark and deep,

A local brew, a secret kept.

 

They poured, they drank, their voices rising high,

Their laughter echoing through the night, beneath the city's sky.

The black pudding, greasy and savory,

A local delicacy, fueling their revelry.

 

Outside, the city buzzed, a cacophony of sound,

As people ran in the streets, their voices echoing around.

"Souris, souris, souris, souris," they chanted with glee,

Their voices blending, a chorus, a vibrant harmony.

 

But within the haven, peace and camaraderie reigned,

Avaton and his newfound friend, their spirits unrestrained.

Throughout the night, they revelled, their spirits unbound,

In this impromptu gathering, where joy was found.

 

The turntable spun, Mandy, Indiana's melodies,

Their anthems of chaos, a symphony of glee.

Avaton's spirit soared, his heart ablaze with fire,

As he sang along to the band he held so dear.

Στο 9 το χαοτικό '' I've seen a way'' των Mandy, Indiana

 

Χορεύοντας στα Βουνά του Μολύβδου جبل الرصاص

     In the heart of Tunisia, where shadows dance,

A melody emerged, a bold advance.

Deena Abdelwahed, a musical sprite,

In the underground, she found her light.

 

In outskirts' clubs, where whispers met,

Her beats broke chains, a rhythmic set.

Not for the elite, but for all to hear,

Deena's tunes, a rebellion near.

 

Affordable entry, drinks not steep,

In this haven, the rhythm ran deep.

A DJ's quest, uncharted terrain,

To echo stories, break the chain.

 

Through the speakers, echoes of the past,

Dominant cultures, fading fast.

Tunisian streets, now alive with sound,

Deena's beats, a force unbound.

 

She weaved through tunes, untold and rare,

A symphony that filled the air.

Not merely unheard, but a tale untold,

A musical journey, brave and bold.

 

History framed by notes and beats,

In Deena's world, each rhythm repeats.

References made to cultures unknown,

A musical tapestry, uniquely sown.

 

Her hands on decks, a magic spell,

In tunes and tales, she'd always dwell.

A passion burning, fierce and bright,

In every note, a rebel's fight.

 

Deena Abdelwahed, a soul profound,

In Tunisia's heart, a rhythmic crown.

Through the underground, she found her way,

A musical journey, a night's ballet.

Στο 10 η Deena Abdelwahed και το '' Jbal Rrsas ج​ب​ل ا​ل​ر​ص​ا​ص''

 

Blogovision 2023: Στο Nottingham για Hog Roast και Black Sabbath ale στο Ye Olde Trip To Jerusalem Inn ή για χορό στο PRYZM?

Στο jukebox το Right Wing Beast 

You used to neck everything in sight

Down at the club on a Thursday night

It was five-O here, it was five-O there

It was really messy and we didn't really care

But what's gone on, what can I see?

You're all getting mugged by the aristocracy

But what's gone on, what can I see?

You're all getting mugged by the right wing beast, yeah

Your tailored look isn't real anymore

You've actually just reversed into your neighbours' wall

I know you really haven't, but you know what I mean

Your head's full of sauce, you're a tin of baked beans

What's gone on, what can I see?

You're all getting mugged by the aristocracy

But what's gone on, what can I see?

You're all getting mugged by the right wing beast, yeah

It's been here for ages

Death's stuck pages

Danger shuffle, watch that door

It's been 'ere forever

It makes the clever

Danger shuffle behind doors

It's been here for ages

Death's stuck pages

Danger shuffle, watch that door

It's been 'ere forever

It makes the clever

Danger shuffle behind doors

I thought about deleting you on socials

Because you keep coming in with stuff

And it's winding me up, to be honest

I never see ya, I don't want to either

I'll just end up coming 'round to your house

And I'll just stick my phone in your head

But what's gone on, what can I see?

You're all getting mugged by the aristocracy

But what's gone on, what can I see?

You're all getting mugged by the right wing beast, yeah

Στο 11 το UK GRIM των Sleaford Mods

 

Blogovision 2023: Στο 12 μια βραδιά στο Heart O' Chicago Motel

                                                         From Buenos Aires' clouds I soared,

To Chicago's shores, a transient bird.

The Heart O' Chicago, a motel quaint,

Where weary souls find respite and rearrange.

 

I checked in, my room a humble space,

A place to rest, a place of grace.

Outside, a smoker, silhouetted tall,

Jaimie Branch, a jazz maestro, answering my call.

 

We sparked a conversation, our voices low,

Of jazz odysseys, where melodies flow.

Panama's rhythms, Taipei's allure,

A symphony of sounds, the night wore on.

 

A hunger pang arose, a craving acute,

For local fare, a taste to suit.

Barrelman Tavern, a beacon bright,

Where cheese curds and Four Roses played their part in the night.

 

Over cocktails, our discussions flowed,

Indonesia's experimental scene, the tale it bestowed.

Hours melted away, like clouds on the breeze,

Our laughter echoed, our spirits at ease.

 

The motel's embrace, a refuge so kind,

Where broken vinyl records the rhythm defined.

Giant clouds drifted, like dreams in the air,

A voice beckoned us, "Fly or die, oh so rare."

 

The dawn broke, a gentle embrace,

As we woke from dreams, our souls in a daze.

The Heart O' Chicago, a memory etched,

A night of music, stories, and souls connected.

Στο 12 η Jaimie Branch και το Fly or Die

 

Blogovision 2023: Στο 13 Στην Σανγκάη oι άπιστοι φοράνε Πράσινα Καπέλα

                                                  In the realm of music, where sounds entwine,

Tzusing's Green Hat, a journey defined.

From China's storied past, a tale unfolds,

Of love, betrayal, and stories untold.

 

The green hat, a symbol of shame,

A mark of infidelity, a burning flame.

In the dance of rhythm and pulsing beat,

Tzusing unveils the truth that's bittersweet.

 

The male's insecurity, a burden to bear,

The societal norms that men must adhere.

From patriarchal norms to possessive desires,

Tzusing delves into the depths of their fires.

 

With sonic intensity, he pierces the soul,

Unveiling the dissonance, making it whole.

The dancefloor becomes a platform to speak,

Where outsiders unite, their voices to seek.

 

From funky hard drums to uptempo's glee,

Tzusing's music, a vibrant symphony.

From filial endure to ruthlessness's sting,

The album's evolution, a musical king.

 

In the depths of fear, where minds race and twist,

Tzusing's Green Hat, a masterpiece that persists.

A symphony of sound, emotions entwined,

In this dance of chaos, where truth is enshrined.

Στο 13 ο Μαλεσιανός Tzusing με την πειραματική ματιά του στην ιστορία της Αρχαίας Κίνας και τις επιρροές της στη σημερινή κουλτούρα και τις συμπεριφορές σχετικά με την έρωτα και την πιστότητα, το 绿帽 Green Hat

 

Blogovision 2023: Στο 14 ο αέρας φέρνει τους θρήνους των μεταναστών που πνίγονται στα νησιά Γκαλίτ

 

Αντί για ποιήματα φτιαγμένα με την βοήθεια του ΑΙ, οι στίχοι από το Carna του Jalitah μεταφρασμένοι από τα Ιταλικά μέσω ΑΙ

After the choir

The sun is shining on the scene

Once you collect your hands, the salt remains

After the wine

The shore burns in the sun

Gather your hands and the day dies

When offshore it fills to fall

In distant days one day he dies

The last day of hunger and sun against the banks

 

After the choir

The sun hangs over the scene

Once you collect your hands, the salt remains

After the wine

The shore falls in the sun

In distant bodies the breath dies

When the grooves open for drinking

Gathered in the fields the day dies

The hand that chases the sun until it disappears trembles

 

Sirocco beats on the prows

It knocks on the doors and takes to the sea

Every day he wakes up and dies

Every day he wakes up and falls

Now and again on the stairs

In the morning I will wait for you

Wake me up tomorrow my love

With the arrival of the sun

 

Now the choir

It abandons itself under the sun

Among the remains of the tears he collects salt

Now the salt

It awakens with sips

Gathering my hands I will take you

It was mouth-watering in flavor

Gathered in the hips, hunger dies

The hands left alone towards morning are cold

 

Sirocco beats on the prows

It knocks on the doors and takes to the sea

Every day he wakes up and dies

Every day he wakes up and falls

Now and again on the stairs

In the morning I will wait for you

Wake me up tomorrow my love

With the arrival of the sun

Στο 14 ένας ύμνος σε αυτούς που χάνονται στη θάλασσα κοντά στο Αρχιπέλαγος Γκαλίτ ( Galite Islands) δηλαδή το Jalitah των IOSONOUNCANE και Paolo Angeli

Blogovision 2023: Στο 15 από το Academy Records της Νέας Υόρκης στα σύννεφα του Buenos Aires. Με τον Πρίγκηπα

 

In Buenos Aires' skies so vast,

Where clouds like cotton castles cast,

Dwelt Avaton Kortez, a dreamer's soul,

Amidst the heavens, his spirit whole.

 

Sufjan Stevens, the Sad Prince of grace,

In Academy Records found his place,

A party for his Javelin's flight,

Music and joy, a starry night.

 

As music filled the air with glee,

A sudden gust, a wild decree,

A sharp air stream, like javelins thrown,

Swept Sufjan up, where stars had flown.

 

High above the earthly realm he soared,

Through clouds of cotton, dreams explored,

Till he met Avaton, the cloud-bound sage,

Whose heart with Neil Young's melodies engage.

Upon the clouds, they gently lay,

As sunset's hues lit up the day,

Sufjan's voice, a whisper soft and low,

"Will Anybody Ever Love Me?" so.

 

Avaton listened, eyes serene,

To Sufjan's plea, his soul's ravine,

In the vast expanse, their voices blend,

Two hearts entwined, till twilight's end.

Στο 15 ο Sufjan Stevens και το ''Javelin''

Blogovision 2023: Στο 16 Τα Δέντρα Mιλάνε στην Tucson

Amidst Tucson's embrace, where saguaros stand tall,

A symphony of nature, a cinematic call.

TREES SPEAK, with music as their guide,

Unveil a tale of the Sonoran stride.

 

Beneath the azure sky, where cacti stand proud,

A journey unfolds, with whispers so loud.

Ancient spirits awaken, their voices entwined,

As nature's orchestra begins to unwind.

 

Through canyons so deep, where shadows reside,

Echoes of legends, in melodies glide.

The desert's heartbeat, a rhythm so true,

In TREES SPEAK's music, it finds its hue.

 

Mesquite trees whisper secrets untold,

Their rustling leaves, a story unfold.

Prickly pears dance, their colors so bright,

As the desert's magic takes flight

 

Underneath the moonlight, a shimmering glow,

The Sonoran Desert, a mystical show.

Stars twinkle above, like celestial guides,

As TREES SPEAK's music through the desert rides.

 

Coyote howls echo, a haunting delight,

As the desert's embrace holds the night so tight.

TREES SPEAK's melodies blend with the wild,

A symphony of nature, pure and unstyled.

 

In every ripple, in every breeze,

TREES SPEAK's music finds its release.

A cinematic journey, a tale so grand,

Where nature and music intertwine hand in hand.

Στο 16 οι Trees Speak και το Mind Maze

Blogovision 2023: Στο 17 μοιράζομαι ένα Domaine de la Romanée-Conti Romanée-Saint-Vivant 2012 με έναν γνήσιο απόγονο των Bismarck

 

In Berlin's heart, where history thrives,

Amidst the streets where grandeur connives,

I met Moritz, a genius of sound,

His music, a realm where depths are profound.

 

His opus, Silencio, a sonic embrace,

Where repetition and reduction find their place,

A tapestry of techno and minimalism's art,

With the human voice playing a vital part.

 

In the depths of electronics, a pulse takes hold,

A vast dynamism, a story yet untold,

Silencio, a murk both dank and deep,

Where clouds gather, secrets they keep.

 

On Potsdamer Platz, our paths did entwine,

The night was young, the air filled with wine,

We sought refuge in Kebinsky's embrace,

In Lorenz Adlon Esszimmer's grand space.

 

In old leather armchairs, we sank with delight,

Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, a wine of pure light,

Silencio's strains, they filled the air,

As we closed our eyes, entranced by the flair.

 

Again and again, the music unfurled,

A symphony of emotions, a story to be hurled,

Hours slipped by, yet we lingered still,

In Silencio's depths, our hearts did fulfill.

 

Emerging from the night's embrace,

We found our destination, our rightful place,

Tresor Club, a haven of sound,

Where music and magic forever abound.

Στο 17 ο Moritz von Oswald και το Silencio

Blogovision 2023: Στο 18 Μιά μέρα με τον Tim στο Los Angeles της Χιλής

 

In Los Angeles, where Bio Bío flows,

A day unfolds, where magic gently grows.

From Sopaipillas' crispy delight,

To La Piojera's beers, where locals unite.

The morning sun paints the city's embrace,

As footsteps dance with a rhythmic pace.

Sopaipillas, golden and warm,

A street food delight, a culinary storm.

 

Along the river, stories unfold,

Of Patagonia's tales, both brave and bold.

Sharp reefs and wild waves, a landscape so grand,

A reminder of nature's masterful hand.

 

As evening descends, the city takes flight,

With music's allure, under the moon's soft light.

La Piojera beckons, with laughter and cheer,

Where locals raise glasses, their hearts drawing near.

 

The rhythm of beats, a pulsating beat,

Leads the way to Club Clinic, where music's retreat.

Tim Hecker's tunes, an electronic embrace,

His album "No Highs," a sonic space.

 

In Los Angeles' heart, where music and spirit reside,

A day comes to end, with memories to abide.

The magic lingers, a Chilean delight,

A place where dreams dance, under the starry night.

Στο 18 , Tim Hecker και No Highs

Blogovision 2023: Στο 19 για Gospel στις πιάτσες του New Haven στο Connecticut

 

Beneath New Haven's arches, where shadows reside,

Walks Reverend Kristin, with secrets inside.

A trans soul, a warrior, a voice so clear,

Amidst the city's pulse, her spirit draws near.

Her pen, a conduit, her hymns take flight,

Words that echo with passion, a lyrical light.

In gospel's embrace, her soul finds solace,

A symphony of faith, in every musical solace.

 

"Trans rights are human rights," her motto resounds,

A clarion call, where justice abounds.

With resilience and grace, she fights for the just,

A champion for equality, her voice never rusts.

 

Reverend Kristin, a beacon so bright,

In Connecticut's tapestry, her spirit takes flight.

A trans soul, a warrior, a hymnist so true,

Her legacy shines, in everything she does.

Στο 19 '' SAVED!'' και Reverend Kristin Michael Hayter

Blogovision 2023: Το 20 - Τρώγοντας Curry Wurst στην Βοστώνη

In Boston's bustling heart, where cobblestones gleam, A wandering soul sought solace, a culinary dream. Beneath the city's vibrant gaze, his footsteps did align, With Currywurst's enticing aroma, a savory sign.

Through streets alive with music, his senses did ignite, The melody of Oneohtrix Point Never, a sonic invite. In Royale's megaclub, he danced to the beat's embrace, Where vibrant lights and youthful energy painted his face.

As the night grew long, his appetite did stir, Currywurst's siren call, a culinary allure. He joined the queue, a mix of faces old and new, Anticipation brewing, for a taste so true.

And there, amidst the crowd, a figure did appear, A smile familiar, a presence oh so dear. Daniel Lopatin, the maestro behind the sound, His presence sparked a joy that could not be bound.

With a flourish of his hand, a signature did grace, The humble paper of a currywurst, a culinary embrace. A moment etched in time, a memory to hold, Where music, food, and chance encounters unfold.

Στο 20 o Daniel Lopatin aka Oneohtrix Point Never και το ''Again''