In a memorable song, like so many of his, the almost always pissed off and volcanic juggler Léo Ferré thanked Satan for revolutionary reasons but also for never appearing on television. I suspect that he has no interest in appearing in it a deep and brilliant musician named Nick Cave. And there was a very distant time in which musicians who had something to tell and a virtuous language to express it had a place in that square or rectangular thing, but the melomania in generalist televisions I suspect is now limited to the emotional contests to compete joveznos promising
Believing that my music chain was irreparably damaged and cornered by laziness to the point of not needing music, something that always fed my soul, I had not heard it in my house for some time. A friend discovers that if this does not sound, it is because I am an integral and ancestral backlash, that by touching a couple of buttons the record player works again. And I have been going through for days, without haste and without pauses, with renewed emotion, an unforgettable, cathartic experience, with the ability to moisten those eyes that are always dry, comparable to the first time I saw the movie Read it It is the last album, poetic vomit, beauty to cushion the pain and vertigo of loss, extreme sensitivity, intimate and shocking connection with any listener who has a heart and palate, which Nick Cave has published. Its titled Ghosteen A masterpiece, something to save the rest of your life.
A 15-year-old boy threw himself down a cliff after getting into a tripi. He was Cave’s son. How to cauterize that unimaginable pain and guilt? hopefully Ghosteen I helped him. The music will always thank you. We also.