Youpitude

Tout pour l'epanouissement de l'etre par la pratique de la Voie du Youpi
aleyma:

Kamisaka Sekka, Waterfall in Summer, early 20th century (source).

Grandiose.

aleyma:

Kamisaka Sekka, Waterfall in Summer, early 20th century (source).

Grandiose.

criminalwisdom:

Syrian artist Tammam Azzam and his personal Gustav Klimt’s “The Kiss” on war-torn building in Syria. (Via)

criminalwisdom:

Syrian artist Tammam Azzam and his personal Gustav Klimt’s “The Kiss” on war-torn building in Syria. (Via)

newsweek:

Before the live-music industry became a billion-dollar behemoth, being on the road was, for many bands, a wild west of sex, drugs and even some rock’n’roll. Hedonism was rife, and it wasn’t just the musicians who pillaged. Their road crews were right there with them, benefiting from a macho atmosphere where the expectation was that after they had unloaded the gear they would match their employers in debauchery.
Some roadies became famous in their own right. Led Zeppelin’s tour manager, for one: there’s a Richard Cole Appreciation Society on Facebook, glorifying the man who was, according to the unofficial band biography Hammer of the Gods, “responsible for much of the mayhem” around the group.
Then there was a metal roadie called Jef Hickey, who carved out such a reputation that half an episode of Vice.com’s 2011 documentary series, On the Road, is devoted to him. Rock musicians speak of him in awed tones: “One time we were on a plane, and he went up to this stewardess and asked her if she had any drugs,” claimed former Queens of the Stone Age bassist Nick Oliveri – and that was only the most printable of Hickey’s antics. Roadie annals are full of such stories, many of them involving unpleasant treatment of female fans.
But that era has long passed, and with it the idea of roadies as folk legends. They have since osmosed into “techs” – low-key professionals who often have degrees and treat the job as a job. “Bad behaviour isn’t acceptable any more, to be drunk and carrying on,” says Chris McDonnell, the Charlatans’ sound engineer. “A lot more is expected of you. People think it’s crazy backstage, and it’s girls and drugs, but it’s not. It’s people working and having a cup of tea.”
The end of the roadie: how the backstage boys grew up | Music | The Guardian

newsweek:

Before the live-music industry became a billion-dollar behemoth, being on the road was, for many bands, a wild west of sex, drugs and even some rock’n’roll. Hedonism was rife, and it wasn’t just the musicians who pillaged. Their road crews were right there with them, benefiting from a macho atmosphere where the expectation was that after they had unloaded the gear they would match their employers in debauchery.

Some roadies became famous in their own right. Led Zeppelin’s tour manager, for one: there’s a Richard Cole Appreciation Society on Facebook, glorifying the man who was, according to the unofficial band biography Hammer of the Gods, “responsible for much of the mayhem” around the group.

Then there was a metal roadie called Jef Hickey, who carved out such a reputation that half an episode of Vice.com’s 2011 documentary series, On the Road, is devoted to him. Rock musicians speak of him in awed tones: “One time we were on a plane, and he went up to this stewardess and asked her if she had any drugs,” claimed former Queens of the Stone Age bassist Nick Oliveri – and that was only the most printable of Hickey’s antics. Roadie annals are full of such stories, many of them involving unpleasant treatment of female fans.

But that era has long passed, and with it the idea of roadies as folk legends. They have since osmosed into “techs” – low-key professionals who often have degrees and treat the job as a job. “Bad behaviour isn’t acceptable any more, to be drunk and carrying on,” says Chris McDonnell, the Charlatans’ sound engineer. “A lot more is expected of you. People think it’s crazy backstage, and it’s girls and drugs, but it’s not. It’s people working and having a cup of tea.”

The end of the roadie: how the backstage boys grew up | Music | The Guardian

criminalwisdom:

BONE MUSIC
Before the availability of the tape recorder and during the 1950s, when vinyl was scarce, ingenious Russians began recording banned bootlegged jazz, boogie woogie and rock ‘n’ roll on exposed X-ray film salvaged from hospital waste bins and archives.

“Usually it was the Western music they wanted to copy,” says Sergei Khrushchev. “Before the tape recorders they used the X-ray film of bones and recorded music on the bones, bone music.”

“They would cut the X-ray into a crude circle with manicure scissors and use a cigarette to burn a hole,” says author Anya von Bremzen. “You’d have Elvis on the lungs, Duke Ellington on Aunt Masha’s brain scan — forbidden Western music captured on the interiors of Soviet citizens.”
How Soviet Kitchens Became Hotbeds Of Dissent And Culture

Disque pirates & culture X!

criminalwisdom:

BONE MUSIC

Before the availability of the tape recorder and during the 1950s, when vinyl was scarce, ingenious Russians began recording banned bootlegged jazz, boogie woogie and rock ‘n’ roll on exposed X-ray film salvaged from hospital waste bins and archives.

“Usually it was the Western music they wanted to copy,” says Sergei Khrushchev. “Before the tape recorders they used the X-ray film of bones and recorded music on the bones, bone music.”

“They would cut the X-ray into a crude circle with manicure scissors and use a cigarette to burn a hole,” says author Anya von Bremzen. “You’d have Elvis on the lungs, Duke Ellington on Aunt Masha’s brain scan — forbidden Western music captured on the interiors of Soviet citizens.”

How Soviet Kitchens Became Hotbeds Of Dissent And Culture

Disque pirates & culture X!