#A Syracuse Serenade

[raebrialc]

A Syracuse Serenade: Harmony in the City

Story masterlist / A Syracuse Serenade Masterlist

A Syracuse Serenade - In a new town, a girl seeks refuge in her relationship with her boyfriend, the only source of familiarity. Yet, their connection is marred by toxicity. As she grapples with loneliness, her boyfriend's tendency to ignore her intensifies during conflicts, leaving her in emotional isolation. The story delves into her struggle to find solace, navigate toxic dynamics, and yearn for connection without revealing too much.

Chapter 2

That Thursday night merged seamlessly into the gentle embrace of Sunday morning. The air held a quiet stillness, the residue of a weekend that whispered promises of lazy afternoons and unhurried moments. As the city stirred from its slumber, Lucas and I found ourselves nestled on the porch swing, a familiar haven where time seemed to slow down, allowing us to savor the tranquility of the moment. The porch, adorned with the subtle glow of dawn, became our sanctuary. The swing swayed gently, a silent witness to the stories exchanged and the shared dreams that unfolded in the quiet spaces between sips of coffee. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air, intertwining with the crisp morning breeze that carried the essence of a city waking up.

The city lights, now dimmed by the emerging daylight, twinkled in the distance as if reluctant to bid farewell to the nocturnal symphony. The occasional passing car added a gentle hum to the background melody, creating a soothing ambiance that invited introspection.

Lucas and I, wrapped in the warmth of shared blankets, cradled our coffee mugs as if they held the elixir of a thousand mornings. The ceramic vessels became conduits of warmth, grounding us in the ritual of companionship. With each sip, the world faded into the background, leaving only the quiet conversations that wove the tapestry of our connection. The silence between us spoke volumes, a language of understanding that transcended the need for constant words. The city unfolded before us, a canvas painted in the soft hues of dawn, as we contemplated the intricacies of our shared journey. The porch swing creaked in a rhythmic cadence, a lullaby that accompanied the soft murmur of the awakening city.

In those moments, time became a gentle stream, flowing at its own unhurried pace. The world beyond the porch swing seemed distant, and the city's heartbeat became a comforting echo in the background. Our fingers intertwined, and our gaze met, creating a bridge between the tangible present and the intangible future.

As we sat on that porch swing, suspended in the delicate dance of morning light, the coffee in our hands held the flavor of shared dreams and the promise of a day yet to unfold. The Sunday sun, now casting a warm glow on the streets below, seemed to join in our quiet celebration of the ordinary moments that held extraordinary significance. And so, in the heart of Syracuse, where city lights melted into the soft hues of dawn, Lucas and I continued our Sunday morning ritual. The porch swing, an anchor in the ebb and flow of life, cradled us in its embrace, a timeless witness to the beauty of love unfolding in the quiet spaces between sips of coffee.

I wanted to capture this scene, etch it into the canvas of memory with the permanence of a cherished novel. The gentle sway of the swing, the quiet hum of the waking city, and the warmth of Lucas's hand in mine—these were the details I yearned to revisit, to unravel like the pages of a favorite book. I wanted to savor this chapter of our story, to replay its delicate nuances like a well-loved record. The city lights, once the stars of the nocturnal symphony, now surrendered to the brilliance of day. Yet, in this quiet pause, I wished to hold onto the magic of dawn, where every sip of coffee echoed the rhythm of our hearts beating in harmony.

Later that day, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the porch. The air had grown cooler, and I sat alone with my thoughts. The porch swing, a silent witness to the inner turmoil, creaked beneath the burden of my indecision. The evening draped the porch in shadows, and I found solace in the quietude, the rhythmic creaks of the porch swing echoing the cadence of my contemplation. The sanctuary gifted by my grandfather held a sacred place in my heart. Its walls whispered stories.

The darker the day grew the further my mind drifted back to the moment I first met Lucas. It was a time when I still called Oklahoma home, and the prospect of meeting him in person propelled me on a nerve-wracking journey from the heartland to the bustling streets of New York. My trusty companion on this journey was my beloved 56' Mustang—a relic from a bygone era, yet it carried the weight of countless memories. The road stretched endlessly before me, and my Mustang, though old, was a testament to the enduring love I harbored for it. The anticipation of meeting Lucas in person transformed my stomach into a troupe of acrobats, somersaulting with nerves. My playlist, which I had imagined blasting through the speakers with me singing at the top of my lungs, remained eerily silent. Anxiety had replaced the joyous soundtrack of my imagined journey.

I had saved up for months for this travel of the heart, and in my mind, I had rehearsed the trip a thousand times. The reality, however, was different. The 29-hour, 36-minute, and 12-second drive was marked by a silence broken only by the hum of the engine and the rhythmic thud of my racing heart. I barely ate, my nerves overpowering any appetite. The road became both a physical and emotional stretch, a bridge between the known and the anticipated.

As I arrived at the hotel, exhaustion and excitement wrestled within me. I understood the importance of making a memorable first impression. I had envisioned myself blasting into the city with the vigor of a traveler ready to embrace adventure. Instead, I found myself fatigued, yearning for a good night's sleep to shake off the weariness that clung to my bones. In the quiet solitude of the hotel room, I underwent a transformation. I meticulously groomed myself, determined to present the most personable version of me that Lucas had ever seen. The mirror became my confidante, reflecting both the weariness of the journey and the eagerness that simmered beneath the surface. I had left Oklahoma as a girl, but here in New York, I was poised to embrace a new chapter and leave behind the remnants of my former self. Every trip to this bustling city felt like shedding a layer of my identity, only to reemerge as a woman ready to face the challenges and opportunities that lay ahead.

As I stood before the mirror, the city lights glittering beyond the window, I realized the symbolic significance of this metamorphosis. New York became my crucible of growth, and with each visit, I left a part of my girlhood behind. It was here that I embraced the woman I aspired to become—a resilient, adaptable individual navigating the complexities of life in the city that never sleeps.

The following day, as I finally stood before Lucas, the reality of our connection crystallized. The nervousness that had accompanied me on the road persisted, now interwoven with the thrill of meeting the person who had become a significant chapter in my life. The quirks and imperfections that defined our individuality unfolded in the shared moments that followed. The love story, which had its origins in the quiet corridors of the internet, found its footing in the vibrant streets of New York.

Exiting the hotel, my knees shook with anticipation. The agreement to meet at a local coffee shop hung in the air, guiding my steps. As I walked what felt like an eternity, I checked my phone, realizing it had only been 15 minutes. Gazing up, I spotted the coffee shop "R Cafe & Tea Boutique," its sign standing tall. Subconsciously straightening my back, I readied myself for this new journey.

Opening the door, the rich aroma of coffee enveloped me. Questions raced through my mind, "Do I order now, or do I wait?" Distractions filled my thoughts. Opting for a coffee, I sat down, the cup eyeing me, yet I couldn't bring myself to sip it. Ding! The bell on the door rang in my ears. Looking up, there he was—Lucas. His eyes met mine, his smile grew, and mine stayed the same. Doubts crept in, "What am I doing? God, you idiot, what are you doing?"

"Claire, hey!" Lucas greeted me casually, as if it were the most normal thing.

"H-Hey, Lucas," I managed to stammer. He looked at me, “Do I say something? What do I say?"

"It's finally good to meet you in person," Lucas slid into the chair across from me, his eyes studying my face as if trying to capture every detail. A mix of excitement and apprehension settled heavily on my shoulders.

"You look even more beautiful in person," he said, leaning in even more.

"Thanks, so do you. How has your day been?" I asked, laughing at what I had just said.

"Busy, as always. But meeting you is the highlight, no doubt," his charming grin enticing me to stay, to not get up and run all the way back home.

That day will forever be etched in my memory. After finishing our coffee, Lucas took me on a tour of New Rochelle, showing me the places he had frequented countless times. With each location, he shared stories—little snippets of his life that painted vivid pictures in my mind. One story, in particular, resonated deeply. He recounted a childhood escapade with his siblings at a quaint mom-and-pop shop. In a moment of youthful mischief, Lucas had committed a minor act of theft. When his mother discovered the transgression, she responded with a lesson in accountability. Lucas was made to walk all the way back to the shop, despite the biting New York winter, to apologize and return the stolen item.

As Lucas told me this, I could vividly imagine the scene. A younger version of him, innocent and adorable, caught in the act. The mental image was so clear that, at times, I found myself mentally shrinking to that small size. In those moments, I envisioned curling up inside Lucas, enveloped by his warmth and comfort, finding solace in the safety of his embrace.

Soon after that, and even now when sadness creeps in, I find solace in imagining myself in that comforting mental space. It's a place where I can mentally shrink to that smaller size, embracing the innocence and warmth of those shared memories with Lucas. In those moments of vulnerability, I picture myself curling up inside him, finding refuge in the sanctuary of his presence. It becomes a coping mechanism, a visualization that brings me a sense of peace and reassurance during challenging times. This imaginative retreat into the comfort of shared memories has become a powerful tool, a mental safe haven where I can momentarily escape the complexities of life and find solace in the simplicity of connection.

In the months that followed our initial meeting, Lucas and I found ourselves entangled in a delicate dance across the vibrant backdrop of New York. Our encounters became more frequent, each meeting etching new chapters into the unfolding story of our connection. The city, with its bustling rhythms and hidden corners, became a witness to the gradual blossoming of our relationship. We met at cozy cafes, hidden gems tucked away in the city's tangled streets, where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the shared laughter that filled the air. Our conversations flowed effortlessly, weaving together the threads of our lives as we discovered the nuances that made us who we were. The initial hesitations and uncertainties began to dissolve, replaced by a growing comfort that invited vulnerability.

Exploring the city hand in hand, we ventured into museums, strolled through parks, and meandered along the Hudson River, where the city lights reflected in the gentle ripples of the water. Each shared experience became a brushstroke on the canvas of our shared journey, painting a portrait of connection that deepened with every passing day. As our lives intertwined, we discovered shared passions and interests that further solidified the foundation of our bond. From attending concerts in Central Park to trying eclectic cuisines in hidden neighborhoods, every moment felt like a shared adventure. The city, with its myriad possibilities, became the backdrop to our growing intimacy.

Our encounters transitioned from planned meetings to spontaneous moments, where a simple text could turn into an impromptu trip. The city, sprawling and ever-changing, became the witness to the evolution of our connection. Our conversations, once laced with the uncertainty of the unknown, transformed into a comforting cadence that resonated with shared dreams and whispered promises. In those stolen moments between busy schedules and bustling streets, our hearts found a sanctuary in each other. The city lights, once distant and untouchable, now mirrored the spark in our eyes as we delved deeper into the intricacies of love. The journey from mere acquaintances to inseparable companions unfolded seamlessly, as if the city itself conspired to weave our stories together.

We hid ourselves from everyone; the hotel rooms became a haven of normalcy for us. Keeping our relationship concealed was imperative. There was a certain thrill in the secrecy. He was mine, and I reveled in the exclusive possession of his name. Like a clandestine mantra, I kept his name hidden from the world, savoring it like a precious secret. In those stolen moments, I would scream his name, a whispered oath between us. I had solemnly sworn to keep our connection sacred, shielding it from prying eyes and unsolicited opinions. The thought of exposing our perfect sanctuary to the world sent shivers down my spine. People, like vultures, would want to pry into our cocoon, seeking every last detail to satiate their curiosity. I couldn't bear the idea of our intimate world being invaded, sucked dry by the outside world's relentless scrutiny. The fear of judgment and the potential unraveling of what we had built together kept me vigilant, guarding our secret with unwavering determination.

In our concealed realm, time seemed to stand still. The hotel rooms, once mere spaces of transient comfort, transformed into a backdrop for our shared experiences. Every stolen glance, every whispered word, and every shared smile were our exclusive currency. The outside world faded away when we were together, and our connection thrived in the cocoon of secrecy.

Yet, amidst the bliss of our private world, a lingering tension simmered beneath the surface. The weight of our hidden truth created a delicate balance, a constant dance between desire and discretion. It was a thrilling yet precarious journey, navigating the intricacies of a love kept in the shadows. As we clung to the clandestine beauty of our relationship, I couldn't help but wonder how long we could sustain this delicate equilibrium. The fear of exposure loomed, but for now, in those stolen moments within the confines of hotel rooms, we found solace in the intimacy we shared, shielded from the outside world by the protective cloak of our secret love.

The rides back to Oklahoma became increasingly somber as the miles stretched across the endless plains. What was once a familiar and comforting landscape now felt like a monotonous stretch of desolation, echoing the growing distance between the life I had known and the one I yearned for in New York. Each journey back felt like a reluctant retreat, leaving behind the vibrant rhythm of the city for the subdued echoes of the plains.

The idea of college in New York had always been a distant dream, a flicker of possibility that gained substance with every visit to the city. Lucas, with his presence and the shared dreams we nurtured, became the anchor that tethered my aspirations to the bustling streets of New York. The dream of attending college in the city, with its promise of vibrant social scenes and the intoxicating allure of the college experience, gained newfound significance.

Syracuse University emerged as the beacon of my aspirations, the gateway to the college life I had envisioned. The prospect of lively parties, navigating classes with the haze of weekend festivities, and the connection of shared adventures became the fabric of my dreams. The application process became a nerve-wracking journey, with Syracuse standing as both the culmination of my desires and the potential heartbreak of unfulfilled dreams.

The uncertainty of acceptance loomed over me like a shadow, casting doubt on the path that lay ahead. If Syracuse didn't open its doors to me, the question of what would come next hung in the air, a daunting enigma with no clear answers. The prospect of forging a new path, one without the backdrop of New York and the presence of Lucas, felt like a departure from the life I had come to envision.

As the college submissions were sent, I found myself grappling with the weight of anticipation. The dream of Syracuse held the promise of a future entwined with the city's energy, and the thought of it slipping away was a poignant fear that lingered in the background of my aspirations. The plains of Oklahoma, once a familiar expanse, now seemed to stretch infinitely, mirroring the uncertainty that loomed on the horizon.

Weeks passed in a blur of anticipation, and the day of reckoning finally arrived. I went about my routine of checking the mail, a mundane task that held the potential to shape the trajectory of my future. Bills, junk mail, a magazine subscription, and then, unexpectedly, a letter from Syracuse University. My heart raced as I sifted through the stack, the ordinary mix of daily correspondence suddenly disrupted by the promise of a life-altering message. I dropped the rest of the mail on the lawn, my hands trembling as I carefully tore open the envelope. The letter inside held the words that every aspiring student yearned to read: "You have been accepted to the University of Syracuse." The weight of those words settled over me, an affirmation that the course of my life was about to take a profound turn.

In the span of a month, I transformed from a resident of Oklahoma to a soon-to-be student in Syracuse. A house and a trust fund became my companions, offering a sense of freedom that both exhilarated and daunted me. With the summer ahead of me, I moved to Syracuse early, eager to acquaint myself with the city and perhaps forge connections before the academic whirlwind began.

However, the quest for friendship proved more challenging than I had anticipated. Despite joining every club and participating in countless events, the elusive sense of camaraderie remained out of reach. The city's vibrant pulse failed to synchronize with my desire for lasting connections, leaving me feeling adrift in a sea of unfamiliar faces. Loneliness settled in, casting shadows over the sunny days of exploration. The city, while bustling with life, seemed to withhold the kindred spirits I sought. Amidst this isolation, there was one constant—Lucas. He became my anchor, a source of unwavering support in a landscape that felt alien and indifferent. As the summer unfolded, Lucas's presence became my solace, a reminder that even in the face of solitude, I wasn't entirely alone.

Authors Notes: HIIII!!! OMG I'm so excited and scared to share this story with you guys. I will be posting new chapters every Friday! (Hopefully). This story is my baby I would love your opinion and thoughts on my story and my writing, but please be nice about it. I promise that the next chapters will be longer!!!!!!!!! Also I want to thank my two friends for reading my story and boosting my ego!

While you are waiting for new chapters go check out @sammysbiggestwhore!!!!!!!

#authors #books #english literature #a syracuse serenade #author #authors of tumblr #bookworm #literature #self publishing #book photography #new york #syracuse #new york city #nyc #vintage nyc #manhattan #frazzled english woman #RelationshipStruggle #EmotionalJourney #Loneliness #ToxicLove #SelfDiscovery #NavigatingFeelings #LoveandLoss #InnerTurmoil #NewBeginnings #PersonalGrowth

[96thdayofrage]

Drury's aunt, Valerie Wilcox, told the The Buffalo News that she fondly recalled the day her sister legally adopted the "sweet, sweet girl" with a capacity for joy that could echo off the walls. On family vacations to Wildwood, New Jersey, Amanda remembers that her sister was the one pulling everyone else into the water.

"Jubilant" was the word her brother, Christopher Moyer, used to describe her. She was a fan of food and life and seemingly every song on the radio he didn't know, he said.

Drury's swings in energy could make it difficult to hold a job, Moyer said. But after he was diagnosed with leukemia, eventually requiring a bone marrow transplant, she rushed to Buffalo eight years ago to be by his side. She babysat his two small children, made grocery trips to help out, and accompanied him on wing runs for his restaurant, The Dalmatia Hotel.

“No matter what she went through. She was full of life," said her friend and neighbor in Buffalo, Krystle Pino, to radio station WGRZ. "Caring, happy, she cared about everyone,”

At the beginning of each day, Pino told the Syracuse Post-Standard, Drury liked to pop her head out the window to yell across the street.

“Good morning, Boo,” Drury would yell. “I love you!”

“I love you, too!” Pino responded in kind.

Drury lived just 10 minutes on foot from the Tops Friendly Markets location on Jefferson Avenue — and on Saturday afternoon, May 14, she walked down the street the same way she always did, Moyer said.

But this time, she didn’t return.

"I knew about the shooting immediately," Moyer said. "All my friends had called me saying, 'Oh my god, I can't believe what happened down the street.'"

Moyer knew a gunman was at their local supermarket. He knew multiple people had been shot. He refused to even imagine that his sister could be involved.

But she wasn't answering the phone. She wasn't at home. His sister's friends began to knock on his door, saying they were worried.

"Little by little," he said, "it began to seep in."

Even before the police called, he began preparing his family for the worst.

She had been among the first victims, they learned. She'd been shot down in the Tops parking lot by a man who’d scrawled a racial slur onto his rifle. 

The alleged killer had driven more than 200 miles from his home to Buffalo’s historical Black Main Street. According to police, he left behind a white supremacist manifesto describing his plan to terrorize anyone who didn’t look like him.

By the time police allowed the gunman to lay down his rifle, 13 people had been shot. And 10 lay dead.

Among them was his sister, just 32 years old, who would never again be able to shout her love from her front window, or serenade her sister with Whitney Houston songs over the phone.

"It's hard to know what to say," said Moyer, who said his family is trying to keep it together. He spoke from the hospital, after suffering yet another health setback.

For sister Amanda, Roberta was the one who made sure family gatherings were all about spending boisterous quality time together. "Her vibrancy set a tone," she said.

Moyer’s restaurant, The Dalmatia Hotel, declared itself heartbroken in a Facebook message, calling her a “bright light in the world.”

“To learn that a member of our NorthStar family fell victim to an extremist act of hate, is unfathomable,” wrote Daniel Bowles, superintendent of the North Syracuse Central School District where Drury had attended high school.

As for Drury's neighbor, Pino, she was left to tell her young children that they would never again see their neighbor, she told the Post-Standard.

“I had to explain … she is with God now,” Pino said.

[parkerbombshell]

#classicspoprockclassicrockthemenacesatticbombshellradio

[nanni88s]

Happy Mother’s Day to all the sweet moms! Come to @hops_spot in @armorysquare Syracuse today for brunch from 11-1 and let me serenade you! (Your family is buying!) (hat: @goorinbros #gottabegoorin) #livemusic #mothersday #sundayfunday #armorysquaresyracuse #syracuseny #craftbeer #poutine #brunch #sundaybrunch #musicianlife https://www.instagram.com/p/CdTFmKyuPC-/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#gottabegoorin #livemusic #mothersday #sundayfunday #armorysquaresyracuse #syracuseny #craftbeer #poutine #brunch #sundaybrunch #musicianlife

[livvydunham]

Secondhand Serenade is going to be in Syracuse in October for the Awake 10th anniversary tour and I really want to go. I still listen to him occasionally anyway, but the nostalgia factor alone is enough to make me go.

#i saw him once in '08 #it'd be so fun to go again 9 years later #also hi I'm still here and I'm filling up my queue now #lizzie liveblogs things

[larryland]

CHATHAM, NY—The Mac-Haydn Theatre concludes its 51st season with the Rodgers and Hammerstein classic, Oklahoma!, running August 22 through September 1.

The road to true love is anything but smooth in this musical that paved the way for American musical theatre. Set in the western territory on its way to becoming a state, Oklahoma! contains some of the most popular music ever written for the stage—songs including “Oh What a Beautiful Morning,” “People Will Say We’re in Love,” and the title song “Oklahoma.”

James Benjamin Rodgers returns to the Mac-Haydn stage as Curly, following his performance last season as Quasimodo in The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Born in Wellington, New Zealand and based in New York, James has performed with The MDR Sinfonieorchester, The Kurt Weill Festival, The Ravinia Festival, The Argento Ensemble, The Merola Opera Program, The Paul Dresher Ensemble, and New Zealand Opera. Roles include the title roles in Candide, Young Frankenstein, and Jekyll and Hyde, Jean Valjean: Les Misérables, Anthony Hope: Sweeney Todd, Kudrjash: Kátya Kabanová, Captain Von Trapp: Sound of Music, Frank Butler: Annie Get Your Gun, Camille: The Merry Widow.

  Meredith Lustig makes her Mac-Haydn debut as Laurey. Praised for her “radiant soprano” and “outstanding dramatic presence,” Meredith’s past roles include: Blanche DuBois/A Streetcar Named Desire (Opera Company Middlebury), Gianetta/L’Elisir D’Amore, Cephisia/Orpheus (New York City Opera), Eurydice/Orpheus in the Underworld (Virginia Opera), Fiona/Brigadoon (Gulfshore Opera), Megan/The Whole Truth (American Modern Ensemble), Musetta/La Boheme (Syracuse Opera), Daisy/The Great Gatsby (Aspen Opera Theater). She has held residence at the Ravinia Steans Institute, Caramoor, New York Festival of Song, Town Hall Theatre, Glimmerglass, and Pittsburgh Opera.  Symphonic appearances include Bernstein’s Mass (Philadelphia Orchestra), Carmina Burana (Erie Philharmonic),Serenade to Music (Chicago Symphony), and as a headliner for the Dallas Symphony and Detroit Symphony.

Rob Brinkmann also makes his Mac-Haydn debut as Jud Fry. Off-Broadway: The Red Room (Barrow Group Theater). Regional: Peter and The Starcatcher (Black Stache, Jenny Wiley Theater), Cabaret (Cliff, Pentangle Arts Center), An American in Paris (Ogunquit Playhouse), Searching for Signal (A.R.T.’s Oberon). Acoustica Electronica (House of Yes).

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  Rounding out the cast are Rachel Pantazis as Ado Annie Carnes, Andrew Burton Kelley as Will Parker, Cathy-Lee Visscher as Aunt Eller, William Taitel as Ali Hakim and Jesse Lynn Harte as Gertie Cummings.

  Oklahoma! is directed by John Saunders, choreographed by Katie Johannigman and music directed by Jillian Zack Rodgers, with costume design by Bethany Marx, wig and makeup design by Matthew Oliver, scenic design by Kevin Gleason, lighting design by Andrew Gmoser, props by Joshua Gallagher and sound design by Nathan Schilz.

For tickets and details please visit www.machaydntheatre.org or call the box office at [phone].

“Oklahoma!” Closes Mac-Haydn 2019 Season CHATHAM, NY—The Mac-Haydn Theatre concludes its 51st season with the Rodgers and Hammerstein classic, Oklahoma!, running August 22 through September 1.

#Andrew Burton Kelley #Andrew Gmoser #Bethany Marx #Cathy Lee-Visscher #Chatham NY #James Benjamin Rodgers #Jesse Lynn Harte #Jillian Zack Rodgers #John Saunders #Joshua Gallagher #Katie Johannigman #Kevin Gleason #Mac-Haydn #Mac-Haydn Theatre #Matthew Oliver #Meredith Lustig #MHT #Nathan Schilz #Oklahoma #Oscar Hammerstein II #Rachel Pantazis #Richard Rodgers #Rob Brinkmann #Rodgers and Hammerstein #The Mac-Haydn #The Mac-Haydn Theatre #William Taitel

[symphonicshakespeare]

Program Notes from Ever-Fixed Mark: A Senior Voice Recital

An Introduction

Last year, I presented a junior lecture recital entitled “Symphonic Shakespeare”, a study of the adaptations of playwright William Shakespeare’s texts into western Classical music. It only made sense that I should continue learning about the ways in which his timeless narratives and characters were rewritten, redefined, or interpreted by the music in which they were set. This recital aims to address the role of the soprano, which I have come to find in many contexts represents the love interest. It is no secret that Shakespeare’s writing embodies a type of romance, eroticism, and affection that shapes the way we as a society approach and understand relationships. Aside from understanding the significance of adaptation, then, this recital is to showcase the multifaceted and complex concept of “love”.

About the title: “Ever-Fixed Mark” is taken from Sonnet 116, in which he writes: “Love is not love / Which alters when it alteration finds, / Or bends with the remover to remove. / O no! it is an ever-fixed mark,” (116: 2-8). I thought it was fitting, as all of the songs on the program have to do with love or some shape of it, to name my recital. Additionally, written notation, music itself is but an ever-fixed mark, bound to exist so long as the score, or even the melody from rote, is maintained.

“It was a lover and his lass”

The arts have intertwined for as long as they’ve existed as a means of expression—and in the English Renaissance, especially on the stage of the Elizabethan theatre, so they did. “It was a lover and his lass” was a diegetic (meaning the music was a witnessed part of the performance) number in Act V, scene III of As You Like It, sung by one of the pages to the betrothed Audrey and Touchstone. In the scene, Touchstone expresses dislike of the song, as it represents little of actual love; its lyrics are ridiculous, overall, it’s silly, and there’s really no substance—but the music, just as love itself, is beautiful despite the frivolity of the antics happening lyrically.

Thomas Morley (1557-1602) was an English renaissance secular and sacred composer, singer, organist, and publisher, probably most renowned today for his madrigals (secular a cappella pieces for six to eight voices). He published this tune in his anthology, First Book of Ayres, in 1600. It contained English songs for voice and lute, and although it cannot be confirmed that this version of the song was used in the production that William Shakespeare would have presented at the Globe, it is known that Morley and Shakespeare, two creative contemporaries, did not collaborate accidentally.

“If Music Be The Food of Love”

Following his death, Shakespeare’s works (as well as those of other authors) were disseminated into spin-offs and retellings by other playwrights and publishers. His portfolio edition of these stories would disappear from the repertoire, but nonetheless influenced English literature and drama for centuries to come.

Colonel Henry Heveningham (1651-1700) created a text, adapted from Duke Orsino’s opening dialogue in Twelfth Night I.i.1-15 as he laments to his attendant Curio about his failed attempts at wooing the fair Olivia. Compare the original text to the lyrics below:

Although it certainly comes from the same place (Duke Orsino’s desperate, fascinated appetite for a humanistic satisfaction be it tangible or expressed through creative means) it’s obviously different. The latter, by Heveningham, is written as a ballad, between two lovers, instead of an address.  Henry Purcell sets this strophic text with word painting, the longing emphasised by a melody that slowly climbs the staff with accompanying crescendo, that eventually falls dramatically at the end of the verse, relinquishing itself to the accompaniment and too, hypothetically, the object of the serenade.

“O, let me weep,” from The Fairy Queen

The Fairy Queen is another example of Shakespeare’s work being adapted after his death. This particular semi-opera, first performed in 1692, is based on Midsummer Night’s Dream—in the spoken moments, the original text remains unchanged, but Henry Purcell (1659-1695) and his librettist Elkanah Settle (1648-1724) change some of the text in ‘masques’, or musical scenes prompted by magical, supernatural, or drunken characters, to fit seventeenth-century dramatic conventions. “O, let me weep”, or as it is more commonly called, ‘The Plaint’ is one of these masques. It was written after the opera had already premiered, as a kind of showcase piece for countertenor or soprano performer—superstars in their own right during the Baroque era.

The Baroque era was the last period in which English composers held strong relevance until the turn of the twentieth century, compared to their continental contemporaries. Henry Purcell was a powerhouse in this regard; he was proficient in various styles of counterpoint yet mainly championed the English Baroque style in his works, composed in both sacred and secular genres with substantial popularity, and also composed for theatre and opera.

“V’adoro, pupille” from Giulio Cesare

Shakespeare wrote the historical drama Julius Caesar in Spring of 1599. The political tensions in England were high, as Queen Elizabeth reached the end of her reign. Subjects of republicanism versus monarchy were circulating, and to depict the killing of a king would be tantamount to treason. However, by using Plutarch’s Lives as his source material, an author that Queen Elizabeth I studied, he effectively avoided the threat of creative persecution. In the eighteenth century, however, the subject of a political history was ripe for opera seria—and librettist Nicola Francesco Haym (1678-1729) created Giulio Cesare in Egitto with Georg Frederic Händel (1685-1759) for the Royal Academy of Music in 1724 during the composer’s tenure at the English court. It was a relatively successful work, and one of Händel’s more (if not most) well known Italian operas to date.

Her presence may be more pertinent in the related Shakespearean tragedy, Antony and Cleopatra, but in Händel’s opera, Cleopatra’s affairs are everything but ignored. In this aria, she admires the young, handsome Julius Caesar, lamenting their never to be love, as she’s far past her courting years:

Fünf Lieder WoO post. 22 (Ophelia-Lieder)

The German translations of many of Shakespeare’s plays appeared in the early 19th century, sparked by Schlegel-Tieck’s publication. Among other composers to set Shakespeare’s works, Johannes Brahms (1833-1897) approached the setting of Ophelia’s songs in a really interesting way by honouring the sing-song style of the text and folly and falter of rhythm in her speeches, and too had a particular choice of harmonic language. He uses very basic piano accompaniment that resembles a kind of pastorale Renaissance style—in the first and second songs, simpler, lute-like voicings and strophic melodies in the soprano. In the third setting, “Auf Morgen its Sankt Valentin’s Tag,” we hear an off-kiltered compound duple meter that almost feels like the pillars of a village dance. In the fourth and fifth songs, Brahms alludes to a sort of chorale or hymn form, but more notably uses a mixture of modes (variations of scales) between A-flat major and its relative minor key of F. This simple relationship ties together more antiquated musical forms and the Romantic style, which nineteenth-century composers defined with manipulations of harmony and tonal center.

The english translation given is not a direct interpretation of the German lyrics, rather the original text from Hamlet Act IV scene v, lines 23-26, 29-33, 48-55, 165-187, and 190-201, respectively.

“Je veux vivre,” from Roméo et Juliette

The stage of the French grand opera is the perfect setting for the melancholic story of the teenage star-crossed lovers. After his major success, Faust, Charles Gounod (1818-1893) and his librettists, Jules Barbier (1825-1901) and Michel Carré (1821-1872) premiered the opera at the Théâtre Lyrique Impérial du Châtelet, Paris in April 1859, and it rose to great success with over three hundred performances in the first eight years of its lifetime.

Juliette’s aria is a testament to teenage life and fleeting crushes. The viennese waltz setting is fitting for the scene in Act I, when all of the characters are meeting at the Capulet estate for her birthday. Juliette’s whimsy enchants Roméo, and all present. The foreshadowing in the lyrics is exquisite.

“Orpheus with his lute”

Oddly enough, the fervent revival of Shakespeare in the nineteenth century continued well into the following years—as theatres continued to perform his work, it was picked up and circulated. British composers especially, such as Roger Quilter, Ralph Vaughan Williams, and Benjamin Britten, among others, sought to honour and redefine their nation’s artistic heritage in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.

Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958) was influenced heavily by Tudor music and brought elements of English folk song into his operas, ballets, religious music, and symphonies. “Orpheus with his lute” is an example of a neo-classical (twentieth century interpretations of Classical or eighteenth century compositional styles) reimagining of Patience’s song from Act III scene I of Henry VIII. The 1901 score is the first of two settings by Williams of the same text.

“Falling in love with love” from Boys from Syracuse

Boys from Syracuse is a 1938 musical by Richard Rodgers (1902-1979) and Lorenz Hart (1895-1943) with book by George Abbott (1887-1995) based on A Comedy of Errors. Adriana sings this tune in Act I, while recanting the stories of her romance with her husband to her sewing circle. Love, although promising, isn’t always as it seems. Rodgers used the dance form, the waltz in particular, to set the ‘mood’ of romance and anticipatory or longing emotions. In the age of Musical Theatre composition, the use of these subliminal musical association works to create further drama and ironic or comedic juxtaposition.

The collaboration between Rodgers and Hart was short-lived, and the pair had a falling out—not romantically, but the song holds as a testament perhaps not only to Adriana’s woes, but too their professional relationship.

“The Star Crossed Lovers”(“Pretty Girl”)

“Star Crossed Lovers” is a track on the album Such Sweet Thunder by Duke Ellington and his orchestra, released by Columbia records in 1957. The album is a twelve-part instrumental suite based on Shakespeare’s works, inspired by a visit to a Festival happening at the same time as their Stratford, Ontario performance by the band leader, Duke Ellington (1899-1974), and his arranger, Billy Strayhorn (1915-1967). The album was written in three weeks and performed the next year at the festival.

Interestingly enough, aside from the Morley piece, this is the only selection on the recital that doesn’t necessitate or originate from a gendered performance; rather, it can be interpreted by any singer, as long as it is addressed to the subject of the ballad, “pretty girl”. Strayhorn was an out member of the LGBTQ+ community, and in a small effort to display how not only musical styles but also social ideas changed, I wanted to include it (and this interpretation) on the program.

For full bibliographic references, or to see the project at large, visit symphonicshakespeare.tumblr.com

#soprano #recital #ever fixed mark #shakespeare #program notes #senior recital #music school #Billy strayhorn #duke ellington #star crossed lovers #pretty girl #falling in love with love #musicology #music history

[ontapsportsapp]

Syracuse QB Eric Dungey's senior night ends with baby photo, bicep squeeze (photos/video) - Syracuse.com

Syracuse.com

Syracuse QB Eric Dungey's senior night ends with baby photo, bicep squeeze (photos/video) Syracuse.com Syracuse, N.Y. -- Twenty-five minutes after Syracuse football quarterback Eric Dungey was serenaded off the field with chants and a standing ovation, he returned to the Carrier Dome turf alongside the departing senior class for one final lap late ... Media skewers Bobby Petrino after Syracuse pounds Louisville247Sports Louisville vs. Syracuse odds, line, start time: Picks, top predictions from advanced computer model on 7-3 rollCBSSports.com all 177 news articles »

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[eichy815]

Alexandria and the Optimistic, Game-Changing, Pretty Sweet, Very Good Play

By now, most people who follow politics know the name Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.  On June 26 during New York’s congressional primaries, the 28-year-old community organizer pulled a surprise upset against incumbent U.S. Congressman Joe Crowley – the fourth-ranking Democrat in the House leadership who has been serving in Congress for nearly two decades.

According to Michael Kinnucan of Jacobin magazine, Ocasio-Cortez's dark horse candidacy came to fruition due to a number of factors.  Her electrifying campaign style and interpersonal presence mobilized her grassroots supporters, who turned out in droves for what would have otherwise been considered a sleepy, uneventful congressional primary in a reliably-Democratic district.  Also, Crowley's influence within the Democratic Party didn’t translate to loyalty from his constituents of New York’s 14th District.  The hybrid Bronx/Queens congressional district is largely composed of people of color, who were persuaded by the massive volunteer force upon which Ocasio-Cortez relied to disseminate her message.

Kinnucan also credits the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA) for helping the Ocasio-Cortez campaign go viral in the final weeks of the campaign.  In turn, they had raised enough money (roughly $100,000) to utilize necessary campaign infrastructure.  Crowley's perceived tone-deafness by his constituents did the rest.  In the end, she edged out Crowley by a difference of 4,000 votes (out of 27,000+ total votes cast)...which, although sounding narrow on paper, actually translated to a margin of fifteen percentage points separating the two of them.

If you look at Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s platform, much of what she champions overlaps with the 2016 presidential platform of Bernie Sanders.  Some of it creeps into the Venn diagram occupied by the much-maligned Green Party candidate Jill Stein.

Ocasio-Cortez supports Medicare-For-All, an assault weapons ban, increased housing tax credits, and a federal jobs guarantee.  She mirrors Elizabeth Warren in her desire to see Glass-Steagall reinstated...and even goes so far as to embrace Stein’s platform plank of student debt cancellation.  Her stances emphasize the working class over the wealthy, as she seeks to raise the taxable income cap on Social Security and crack down on corporate lobbyists (specifically with full donor disclosure laws, until the point when Citizens United can be overturned).

When it comes to social issues, she also sings the tune of self-identified progressives.  Ocasio-Cortez is a strong voice of criminal justice reform, passing the DREAM Act, protecting reproductive rights, advancing LGBT equality, and achieving gender pay equity.  Her environmental platform emulates the “Green New Deal” touted by Jill Stein during Stein’s third-party presidential run.

Some of Ocasio-Cortez’s stances might be a harder sell when it comes to federal legislation.  She is pushing for tuition-free college and the abolition of ICE.  Without question, moderate Democrats and many centrists won’t be too keen on acquiescing to these positions.

But serving in Congress is about compromise and incrementalism.  Ocasio-Cortez knows this.  Much like Sanders and Stein, she is conceivably attempting to set the bar really high so that any future legislative reconciliation process will end up with more favorable results (in the eyes of progressives) than past sessions of Congress.

Her personal story is extremely captivating.  Ocasio-Cortez was born to a working-class Bronx family.  Puerto Rican on her mother’s side, as a young girl and a teenager she commuted 40 minutes to a public school in Yorktown – a Westchester County suburb that provided her a much more advantaged education than if she had attended school in her local urban New York City neighborhood.

During her young adulthood, Ocasio-Cortez was a congressional caseworker (focusing on immigration) in the office of the late U.S. Senator Ted Kennedy (D-MA).  Beyond that, she worked with youth mentoring and literacy programs back in her home district.  Her father was diagnosed with cancer during The Great Recession, and she had to work double-shifts in restaurants to help her family pay his medical bills.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez channeled her life experiences and occupational knowledge as a working class Latina woman...and inspired legions of supporters to help her bring change to the 14th District.  But as she moves on to the General Election, additional hurdles await her.

New York allows candidates to run on multiple party lines for the General Election ballot, and Crowley had already received the endorsement of the smaller Working Families Party (while simultaneously competing to earn the Democratic Party’s nomination, once again, for his seat).  Due to an odd statute within New York state election laws, although Ocasio-Cortez will be the actual Democratic nominee for this seat in November, Crowley apparently isn’t allowed to take his name off the ballot unless he relocates his residence or convinces the WFP to endorse him for a different office.  So, as things stand right now, Crowley’s name will remain on the ballot even though he isn’t actively running.

At least, that’s what he says...right now.  After losing the primary, Crowley sportively praised Ocasio-Cortez on social media while publicly serenading her with a guitar-accompanied rendition of Bruce Springsteen’s “Born to Run.”   Yet, shortly after the primary results became known, former U.S. Senator Joe Lieberman (D-CT) weighed in – publicly imploring Crowley to continue running against Ocasio-Cortez on the WPF line (much the same way Lieberman himself did, back in 2006 – forming his own temporary party and running against Ned Lamont in the General Election after Lieberman had been primaried out by Lamont in the Democratic U.S. Senate primary that year).

In Lieberman’s view, Ocasio-Cortez is a far leftist who is drastically out of the mainstream...even in her very liberal district.  

Never mind that Lieberman was a driving force behind why no public health care option ended up in the final version of the ACA back in 2010.  Lieberman ran a mealy-mouthed, disingenuous presidential campaign for the Democratic nomination in 2004 – four years after having further tainted the already-corrupt Al Gore presidential campaign with his anemic presence as Gore’s vice-presidential running mate.

Since having retired from the Senate in 2012, Joe Lieberman has spent the better part of his days consulting for white-collar criminal defense attorneys while also moonlighting as part of a few neoliberal think tanks.  He supported Betsy DeVos, the controversial Trump-appointed Education Secretary...right before interviewing with Trump for James Comey’s spot as FBI Director.  Interesting – given how Lieberman himself had endorsed Hillary Clinton during the 2016 election (even though he’d endorsed John McCain over Barack Obama, eight years earlier).

And, predictably, Fox News and other squawkers from the Far Right have vilified Ocasio-Cortez for her embrace of “Democratic socialism.”  They have portrayed her as a leftist caricature...probably because she’s successfully tapping into much of the anger and indignation that fueled Bernie Sanders supporters throughout 2016.

Lieberman and various neoconservatives most likely fear how Ocasio-Cortez represents a potential shift away from blatant favoritism toward Israel – on the foreign policy front – in favor of a two-state solution.  But even liberals who are well to the left of Lieberman seem poised to gun for Ocasio-Cortez (once she is inevitably seated in Congress).

The objections to Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s congressional candidacy are eerily similar to the huffing-and-puffing over former Sex and the City co-lead Cynthia Nixon’s insurgent gubernatorial challenge to incumbent Andrew Cuomo (running for what would be his third term as Governor) in September’s Democratic primary.  Although Nixon is vying to represent the entire state of New York (whereas Ocasio-Cortez would be representing one solitary congressional district located in The Big Apple), the two women have similar underdog stories when challenging the establishment favorites in Crowley and Cuomo.

Quite fittingly, Ocasio-Cortez and Nixon have begun openly campaigning together in the weeks leading up to Nixon’s showdown against Cuomo.  Even if Cuomo wins the Democratic gubernatorial nomination on September 13 (as most political observers expect him to), Nixon could go ahead and do exactly what Lieberman and his ilk are “encouraging” Crowley to do...she could run as an Independent gubernatorial candidate on the Working Families Party line.

Many Democrats fear that, if Nixon goes this route, she would split the left-of-center votes with Cuomo...and enable the presumed Republican nominee, Marcus Molinaro, to possibly eke out a plurality victory in November.  While this is certainly a possible scenario, it’s equally as likely that Libertarian nominee Larry Sharpe could siphon away right-of-center votes from Molinaro.  And then add Independent candidate Stephanie Miner (the former Mayor of Syracuse) to the mix:  Miner is running as an Independent with the blessing of the Serve America Movement, which has been attracting moderate Republicans and moderate Democrats alike.

A five-person race between Nixon, Cuomo, Molinaro, Sharpe, and Miner could prove to be both riveting and unpredictable...as this isn’t necessarily your standard midterm election year.  And, having aligned herself with Nixon, Ocasio-Cortez appears poised to encourage such a competitive, multi-party scenario.

This is probably why she scares the Andrew Cuomos and the Joe Liebermans and the Fox News hounds alike.  They want a continued, black-and-white, two-party duopoly.  They don’t want American voters to have a variety of choices.  Why do you think they are so resistant to enacting forms of Instant-Runoff Voting?

They fear losing their power and their stranglehold over the current system.

Isn’t it a wee bit hypocritical – and, dare I say, sexist – for people to demand that Nixon bow out of the gubernatorial race in deference to Cuomo...while simultaneously encouraging Crowley to embark upon a sour grapes renegade campaign against Ocasio-Cortez?

However the New York gubernatorial race shakes out, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is not going away.  Whether or not Joe Crowley proceeds to campaign against her between now and November...she’s released a rabble-rousing genie from its bottle – and that genie isn’t going back in.

I say:  Good for her!  We need more Alexandria Ocasio-Cortezes in our U.S. Congress.  I may not agree with her 100% on every issue.  I’m a centrist who seeks middle ground when implementing solutions.  But I’m also a centrist who loathes the corruption and narcissism of people such as Joe Lieberman.  And, unfortunately for Joe Crowley, he failed to reject that ill-begotten philosophy during his last several terms in the U.S. House of Representatives.

Now all Ms. Ocasio-Cortez needs to do is start talking more about the ignored-yet-pivotal issue of Sustainable Agriculture...and her tenacity could set off a wave that resonates across many states – and multiple party lines – for many election cycles ahead of us.

[tamta24]

Βιογραφία | Lou Reed

Είναι Αμερικανός τραγουδιστής, συνθέτης της ροκ μουσικής και κιθαρίστας. Ως μέλος των The Velvet Underground τη δεκαετία του 1960, ο Ριντ άνοιξε νέους δρόμου�� στο χώρο της ροκ προς διάφορες κατευθύνσεις…

Η ζωή του:

Γεννήθηκε από οικογένεια Εβραίων στο Μπρούκλιν της Νέας Υόρκης και μεγάλωσε στο Φρίπορτ του Λονγκ Άιλαντ. Ο ίδιος έλεγε ότι το όνομά του είναι Λιούις Άλεν Φέρμπανκ αλλά το πραγματικό του όνομα είναι Λιούις Άλεν Ραμπίνοβιτς.

Σε νεαρή ηλικία έκανε πραγματικότητα το όνειρό του, μαθαίνοντας να παίζει κιθάρα, ενώ άρχισε να συμμετέχει σε σχολικές ροκ μπάντες.

Σύντομα έκανε και την πρώτη του ηχογράφηση σε στυλ μπλουζ με το συγκρότημα The Shades.

Φοίτησε στο Πανεπιστήμιο των Συρακουσών (Syracuse University) όπου ο ποιητής και καθηγητής του Ντέλμορ Σβαρτς τον ενθάρρυνε στην πορεία του και τον βοήθησε όσον αφορά τη χρήση της αγγλικής γλώσσας.

Αργότερα ο Ριντ έγραψε ως φόρο τιμής στον μέντορά του με το τραγούδι “My House”, με αναφορές στον Οδυσσέα του Τζέιμς Τζόις.

Τότε ήταν που εκδήλωσε το ενδιαφέρον του για την τζαζ (free jazz) και την πειραματική μουσική (experimental).

Μετά την αποφοίτησή του το 1964, έπιασε δουλειά ως συνθέτης στη δισκογραφική εταιρία Pickwick Records….

Το συγκρότημα ‘The Velvet Underground” :

Την επόμενη χρονιά δημιούργησε μαζί με τον Ουαλό βιολιστή συνάδελφό του,Τζον Κέιλ, το συγκρότημα The Primitives, το οποίο μετεξελίχθηκε τελικά στους The Velvet Underground.

Ενώ η σύνθεση του συγκροτήματος δεν υπήρξε σταθερή (ο Κέιλ το εγκατέλειψε το 1968, ο Ριντ το 1970) και δεν ήταν εμπορικά βιώσιμο, αποτέλεσε ένα από τα underground συγκροτήματα με την μεγαλύτερη επιρροή στην ιστορία της ροκ…!

Αποτελούνταν από τον Λου Ριντ, τον Τζον Κέιλ, τον Στέρλινγκ Μόρισον και την Μορίν Τάκερ!

Εκείνη την περίοδο γράφτηκαν τα τραγούδια “Heroin” και “I’m Waiting for my Man”, τραγούδια που μοιάζουν να σκιαγραφούν τα έργα του Μπάροουζ.

Η συνάντησή τους με τον Άντι Γουόρχολ ήταν καθοριστική καθώς απογείωσε τη φήμη τους.

Υπήρξε ο μάνατζέρ τους, ο οποίος διοργάνωσε τις περιοδείες του γκρουπ σε όλη την Αμερική και τον Καναδά, αποσπώντας εντυπωσιακές κριτικές.

Ο Γουόρχολ επέμεινε στην προσθήκη ενός ακόμη μέλους, της Γερμανίδας πρώην μοντέλου Nico.

Η αντίρρηση του Ριντ και των υπολοίπων καταγράφηκε στο ντεμπούτο άλμπουμ τους The Velvet Underground and Nico το 1967…

Αναφέρεται επίσης ότι συχνά στις συναυλίες ο Ριντ και ο Κέιλ έπαιζαν σκόπιμα πάνω από τη φωνή της Νίκο, ή χαμήλωναν την ένταση του καναλιού της την ώρα που τραγουδούσε.

Στα 4 χρόνια που ακολούθησαν, οι Velvet Underground κυκλοφόρησαν 4 προσωπικούς δίσκους.

Έως τότε, τα αγαπημένα θέματα του Ριντ ήταν η κακόφημη γειτονιά του, τα ναρκωτικά και ο θάνατος.

Μέχρι την ηχογράφηση του δίσκου ”White Light/White Heat”, η Nico είχε απομακρυνθεί και ο Γουόρχολ είχε απολυθεί, ενώ στη θέση του μάνατζερ προσλήφθηκε ο Στιβ Σεσνίκ.

Το 1970 εμφανίστηκε το γνωστό τραγούδι “Sweet Jane” στο άλμπουμ ”Loaded” των Velvet Underground.

Σόλο καριέρα :

Το 1970 ο Ριντ αποχώρησε από το συγκρότημα και ακολούθησε σόλο καριέρα, ενώ ταυτόχρονα μετακόμισε στο Λονδίνο.

Εκεί γνωρίστηκε με τον Ντέιβιντ Μπάουι, ο οποίος μαζί με τον Μικ Ρόνσον ανέλαβε την παραγωγή στο πρώτο προσωπικό του άλμπουμ, με τίτλο ”Transformer” το 1972.

Αυτός δίσκος περιλαμβάνει το γνωστότερο ίσως τραγούδι του Ριντ, το “Walk on the Wild Side”, το οποίο περιγράφει τους κοινωνικά απροσάρμοστους (misfits), τους εκπορνευόμενους άντρες (male hustlers) και τους τραβεστί στο Factory του Αντι Γιούρχολ.

Αυτός ο δίσκος περιλαμβάνει επίσης τα τραγούδια “Perfect Day”, “Vicious” και “Satellite of Love”.

Το τραγούδι “Perfect Day” εμφανίστηκε σε μια εκτέλεση με έγχορδα του Μικ Ρόνσον η οποία εγκωμιάστηκε από τον Ριντ στο επεισόδιο Transformer της σειράς του BBC “Classic Albums”.

Το τραγούδι αυτό περιλήφθηκε αργότερα στο soundtrack της ταινίας ”Trainspotting” και ακούγεται στην σκηνή της ταινίας όπου ο πρωταγωνιστής Μαρκ Ρέντον έχει κάνει υπερβολική χρήση ηρωϊνης.

Το τραγούδι αυτό έχει επίσης μεταγραφεί στα ελληνικά και έχει γίνει η μουσική του εκτέλεση από τον Διονύση Σαββόπουλο, στο δίσκο του ”Το Ξενοδοχείο”,  το 1997..

Στα χρόνια που ακολούθησαν, ο Λου Ριντ διατήρησε το καταθλιπτικό στυλ του, γεγονός που απογοήτευσε μέρος του κοινού του.

Το αποκορύφωμα τη αποτυχίας του θεωρείται το άλμπουμ ”Metal Machine Music”.

Στα μέσα της δεκαετίας του ’80 αποφάσισε να κάνει μία στροφή, αρχίζοντας να γράφει πιο ρυθμικά και αισιόδοξα τραγούδια…

Το άλμπουμ ”The Bells” συγκρίθηκε από τους κριτικούς με τα κλασικά ”Astral Weeks” του Βαν Μόρισον και ”Exile on Main Street” των Rolling Stones, καθώς συνεργάστηκε σε αυτό και ο Ντον Τσέρι…!

Το 1993 ξαναβρέθηκε για τελευταία φορά με τα υπόλοιπα μέλη των Velvet Underground για μία ευρωπαϊκή περιοδεία….

Το 1980 παντρεύτηκε τη Σίλβια Μοράλες με την οποία χώρισε μια 10ετία αργότερα.

Ο Ριντ έδειξε ενδιαφέρον για τα πολιτικά ζητήματα το 1986 όταν συμμετείχε στην περιοδεία της Διεθνούς Αμνηστίας ”A Conspiracy of Hope Tour”.

Στο άλμπουμ του ”New York” το 1989, αποδοκίμασε το έγκλημα, τα υψηλά ενοίκια, τον πολιτευόμενο ιεροκήρυκα Τζέσε Τζάκσον, τον Γενικό Γραμματέα του Ο.Η.Ε. Κουρτ Βάλντχαϊμ ακόμη και τον Πάπα Ιωάννη Παύλο Β’.

Επίσης, συνδεόταν φιλικά με τον Τσέχο αντιφρονούντα συγγραφέα και πολιτικό Βάτσλαβ Χάβελ.

Μετά το θάνατο του Γουόρχολ στη διάρκεια μιας εγχείρισης το 1987, ο Ριντ συνεργάστηκε με τον Τζον Κέιλ το 1990 στο μινιμαλιστικό άλμπουμ ”Songs for Drella” ( “Drella” από τον συνδυασμό των λέξεων “Dracula” και “Cinderella”, ένα παρατσούκλι του Γουόρχολ. )

Η δεκαετία του 1990 χαρακτηρίστηκε από 3 άλμπουμ, με καλύτερο το ”Magic and Loss’, κάποιες ζωντανές εμφανίσεις, την ερωτική του φιλία με την Λόρι Άντερσον, την ενασχόλησή του με τη φωτογραφία και μια επίμονη μελέτη των έργων του Άλαν Πόε…

Το 1996 το συγκρότημα Velvet Underground καταχωρήθηκε στο Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Η 10ετία του 2000 ξεκίνησε για τον Ριντ με το επιτυχημένο άλμπουμ ”Ecstasy ” και 3 χρόνια αργότερα επανήλθε στο προσκήνιο με το ”The Raven”, στο οποίο συμμετείχαν θρύλοι όπως ο Ορνέτ Κόλμαν, οι Blind Boys of Alabama, οι ηθοποιοί Στιβ Μπουσέμι, Ντάνιελ Νταφόε, Λόρι Άντερσον και ο ταχύτατα ανερχόμενος Άντονι.

Την ίδια χρονιά κυκλοφόρησε μια ανθολογία από το σύνολο το έργου του με τον τίτλο Lou Reed: New York Man, ενώ το 2004 κυκλοφόρησε το διπλό live άλμπουμ με τίτλο ”Animal Serenade” δίνοντας έτσι ένα ισχυρό «παρών» στην rock & roll σκηνή…!

Δισκογραφία:

  (1972) Lou Reed

(1972) Transformer

(1973) Berlin

(1974) Rock’n’Roll Animal

(1974) Sally Can’t Dance

(1975) Lou Reed Live

(1975) Metal Machine Music

(1975) Coney Island Baby

(1976) Rock And Roll Heart

(1977) Walk On The Wild Side

(1978) Street Hassle

(1978) Take No Prisoners

(1979) The Bells

(1980) Growing Up In Public

(1980) Rock’n’Roll Diary

(1982) The Blue Mask

(1982) Legendary Hearts

(1984) New Sensations

(1984) Live In Italy

(1986) Mistrial

(1989) New York

(1990) Songs For Drella

(1993) Magic And Loss

(1996) Set The Twilight Reeling

(1998) Perfect Night Live In London

(2000) Ecstasy

(2003) The Raven

(2003) NYC Man

(2004) Animal Serenade

Πηγές :

www.wikipedia.org

Επιμέλεια-Προσαρμογή: Χριστίνα Κωσταβάρα

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[raebrialc]

About Reabrialc/ Masterlist

~I am Raebrialc!! ~I am from New York, if you couldn’t tell ~My hobbies are writing, sustainable style, classic films, and photography ~I love reading the classics ~I aspire to be a writer!! ~As much as I know that Joan Didion is problematic, I love her work Favorite Quote: “And we all go with them, into the silent funeral, Nobody’s funeral, for there is no one to bury. I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you Which shall be the darkness of God.”-T.S. Eliot’s poem “Ash Wednesday."

Masterlist

A Syracuse Syranade - In a new town, a girl seeks refuge in her relationship with her boyfriend, the only source of familiarity. Yet, their connection is marred by toxicity. As she grapples with loneliness, her boyfriend's tendency to ignore her intensifies during conflicts, leaving her in emotional isolation. The story delves into her struggle to find solace, navigate toxic dynamics, and yearn for connection without revealing too much.

#author #authors of tumblr #self publishing #authors #book photography #books #jane austen #english literature #bookworm #literature #Raedrialc #A Syracuse Serenade

[raebrialc]

A Syracuse Serenade: Blossoms and Cigars

Story Mansterlist / A Syracuse Serenade Masterlist

A Syracuse Serenade - In a new town, a girl seeks refuge in her relationship with her boyfriend, the only source of familiarity. Yet, their connection is marred by toxicity. As she grapples with loneliness, her boyfriend's tendency to ignore her intensifies during conflicts, leaving her in emotional isolation. The story delves into her struggle to find solace, navigate toxic dynamics, and yearn for connection without revealing too much.

Chapter 1

My footsteps echo through the hallways click, click, click. In the midst of my thoughts, I am distracted by the sound of my shoes filling my ears. Being busy with my classes at the University of Syracuse keeps me from being alone for long periods of time. The feeling of being alone is one I like, but it's much different when you are alone in a big city compared to being alone in a small town. It’s like you’re wrapped in a cocoon, the small towns of Oklahoma are warm and filled with love like a giant woman wrapped her arms around you. Your head in her hands, the familiar smell of her never leaves your heart. The cocoon of Syracuse is different, colder. It's as if the city itself is an intricate tapestry, beautiful and complex, yet each thread seems to unravel in isolation. The embrace is not that of a nurturing woman but rather the distant hum of millions of lives intertwining, a collective heartbeat that both includes and isolates. The city lights flicker like distant stars, and the symphony of traffic becomes a constant background melody. The streets, once bustling with the pulse of urban life, now echo with the footsteps of solitary wanderers like me. The anonymity of the crowd intensifies the solitude, making each step a silent assertion of individual existence in a sea of faces.

The city's heartbeat is a blend of diverse rhythms, a cacophony of stories and dreams colliding and merging. Yet, in my solitude, I find myself yearning for the warmth of those Oklahoma plains, for the simple embrace of a tight-knit community where everyone knows your name. Where people will say, “Oh, your David’s Little girl?” where everyone knows you, where you feel seen. The memories of the giant woman's arms linger, the smell of home etched into my soul. Here, in Syracuse, I navigate the maze of my thoughts, the city lights casting long shadows on the sidewalks. The occasional passerby becomes a fleeting companion, a transient connection in the vast expanse of urban life. The cocoon feels both expansive and confining, a paradox that leaves me caught between the desire for connection and the comfort of solitude.

The quietness, once a solace, now felt like an echoing void waiting to be filled. As I wandered through the hallways, the subtle creaks and sighs of the aging structure seemed to mimic the sighs of my own solitude. I find myself in the school library, the shelves lined with books, standing as silent witnesses to my solitary musings. In their pages, I sought refuge, escaping into worlds crafted by the imagination of others. Yet, even among the bound companions, the shadows of loneliness lingered, reminding me that the characters on those pages couldn't bridge the gap between me and the quiet ache within. Seeking solace in the written word or the stroke of a paintbrush. Literature becomes my refuge, a realm where characters unravel their tales and the confines of reality yield to the boundless landscapes of imagination.

In the quiet corners of the library, I find companionship in the whispers of poets and the musings of novelists. The world of books, with its myriad stories and voices, becomes a realm where loneliness dissipates in the company of kindred spirits. The weight of isolation is momentarily lifted as I lose myself in the artistry of language, each word a brushstroke painting the canvas of my thoughts. The city pulses with life, and I, in my own quiet way, dance to its rhythm. The journey through loneliness becomes a pilgrimage of self-discovery, a pursuit of connection through the brushstrokes of art and the written whispers of literature. And so, in the heart of Syracuse, I navigate the delicate balance of solitude, finding solace in the pages of a book and the strokes of a painting.

The city lights had long replaced the afternoon sun as I navigated the streets. It’s Thursday, the day that brought a bittersweet mixture of anticipation and reluctance. Thursday evenings meant dinner with Lucas and his family. His house, a place of contrasting energies, held within its walls the intricate dynamics of familial relationships. Lucas's family home stood as a silent sentinel, its exterior a blend of warmth and stoicism. As I approached, the porch light beckoned, casting a gentle glow on the swing that had witnessed countless family gatherings. The door creaked open, and I stepped into a world that was both familiar and unfamiliar.

Lucas's father, a man of few words, exuded an air of formality that cast a subtle chill in the air. The distance he maintained spoke of unspoken expectations and unexplored complexities. In stark contrast, his mother greeted me with a warmth that felt like a comforting embrace. Her eyes sparkled with kindness, a stark departure from the reserved demeanor of her husband. The lively chatter emanating from the dining room revealed the presence of Lucas's siblings—two brothers and a sister, each with their unique energy. Frank, the elder brother at 26, carried an air of responsibility, his gaze often drifting to the patriarch of the family. Nick, the 20-year-old, was a beacon of youthful exuberance, while Melody, the sister at 25, exuded a quiet strength.

As we gathered around the dinner table, the air buzzed with a blend of familial warmth and unspoken tensions. The clinking of utensils against plates harmonized with the exchange of pleasantries, creating a delicate balance that hovered between connection and constraint. Lucas, ever the mediator, navigated the familial terrain with practiced ease. His eyes, stormy and reflective of the familial complexities, sought mine briefly, offering a silent reassurance that I wasn't alone in this intricate dance.

Yet, with every passing moment, I couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider peering into a world that was both inviting and elusive. The dinner table became a stage for unspoken narratives, where glances held hidden meanings, and the space between family members seemed to widen. As the evening unfolded, I found myself caught between the warm embrace of Lucas's mother and the subtle frostiness emanating from his father. The laughter and stories shared between siblings became a mosaic of shared histories that I, as an outsider, could only observe.

I have known Lucas for two years now, but have just met his family. There are times when I find myself reminiscing on the first Thursday dinner. His mother's welcoming smile and his father's stoic acknowledgment had set the stage for an intricate dance of connection and divergence. In those initial moments, the chatter and laughter of siblings had resonated with familiarity and a subtle undercurrent of history. Frank's watchful gaze, Nick's infectious energy, and Melody's composed presence had all added layers to the mold of Lucas's life.

The tradition of bringing flowers for Lucas's mother and sister, and a box of cigars for his father and brothers, had become a cherished ritual. The blooms and the rich aroma of cigars had woven themselves into the fabric of our Thursday dinners, becoming symbols of connection and acknowledgment within the intricate dynamics of their family. The flowers, carefully selected each week, carried the language of appreciation and warmth. As I presented them to Lucas's mother and sister, the vibrant petals seemed to reflect the unspoken beauty of their familial bond. The flowers, arranged with care, became messengers of gratitude and a silent acknowledgment of the role they played in Lucas's life.

His mother's eyes would light up at the sight of the blossoms, and Melody would offer a gracious smile, creating an ambiance of shared appreciation around the dinner table. The flowers, in their ephemeral beauty, became vessels of unspoken sentiments, enhancing the warmth of familial connection.

On the other side of the spectrum, the box of cigars for his father and brothers introduced a different cadence to our Thursday gatherings. The rich scent of tobacco filled the air as I presented the gift, a nod to the shared moments of relaxation and camaraderie that unfolded over cigars. The box, replenished monthly, became a symbol of continuity and shared indulgence. The ceremonial opening of the box marked the beginning of an evening where conversations flowed freely amidst tendrils of smoke. The ritual of sharing cigars became a bridge, a language of bonding that transcended words.

Hopefully, as weeks turned into months, the flowers and cigars transformed into more than mere gifts; they became tokens of our evolving connection with Lucas's family. Each bloom and every puff of cigar smoke became part of the shared narrative, binding us together in a language that resonated with the unspoken nuances of familial ties.

In the quiet moments between sips of coffee and the gentle swaying of the porch swing, the flowers and the cigars served as anchors, grounding us in the shared rituals that defined our Thursday dinners. In the dance of petals and the curling tendrils of smoke, I found a language of connection that transcended the complexities of familial dynamics, weaving a tapestry of shared history with each passing Thursday. In those quiet moments of reflection, I recognized the significance of those Thursday dinners. They weren't just meals shared around a table; they were glimpses into the complexities of Lucas's past, present, and the intricate tapestry that bound us together. The memories of that first dinner lingered, imprinted in the corridors of my mind like a vintage photograph capturing a moment in time.

Authors Notes: HIIII!!! OMG I'm so excited and scared to share this story with you guys. I know that this is a shorty story, but it is only they start. I will be posting new chapters every Friday! (Hopefully). This story is my baby I would love your opinion and thoughts on my story and my writing, but please be nice about it. I promise that the next chapters will be longer!!!!!!!!! Also I want to thank my two friends for reading my story and boosting my ego!

While you are waiting for new chapters go check out @sammysbiggestwhore!!!!!!!

#A Syracuse Serenade #Reabrialc #self publishing #authors of tumblr #author #authors #books #bookworm #literature #english literature #new york city #nyc #vintage nyc #manhattan #syracuse #frazzled english woman #RelationshipStruggle #EmotionalJourney #Loneliness #ToxicLove #SelfDiscovery #NavigatingFeelings #LoveandLoss #InnerTurmoil #NewBeginnings #PersonalGrowth

[raebrialc]

A Syracuse Serenade-Masterlist (ongoing)

Mood board by me!

Official playlist

Summary: In a new town, a girl seeks refuge in her relationship with her boyfriend, the only source of familiarity. Yet, their connection is marred by toxicity. As she grapples with loneliness, her boyfriend's tendency to ignore her intensifies during conflicts, leaving her in emotional isolation. The story delves into her struggle to find solace, navigate toxic dynamics, and yearn for connection without revealing too much.

Warnings: Themes of toxic relationships, small (but bad) age gap, emotional struggles, loneliness, drinking, drug use, self-harm, no use of Y/N, manipulation, loss of girlhood, and some smut. I might have missed some!!!

Chapter 1 - Blossoms and Cigars (1k) - My footsteps echo through the hallways click, click, click. In the midst of my thoughts, I am distracted by the sound of my shoes filling my ears.

#authors of tumblr #author #authors #self publishing #book photography #bookworm #books #jane austen #english literature #literature #A Syracuse Serenade #Raebrialc #toxic relationship #new york #syracuse