Originally posted by MrGongGong
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What music can you not stick ?
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Originally posted by Suffolkcoastal View PostI so hate that certain composer of musicals music that I'd put him out of my mind, he doesn't just pretend to be Puccini there is a very strong similarity between a certain passage in a certain musical and a theme in La Fancuilla del West!
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What is on CDR now: Renaissance music being sung with a top line as if it were Schubvert lieder, wobbly and 'shaped' towards vibrato unlike anything Victoria / Vivanco etc is ever likely to have heard. Ruins the discipiine. Makes every group sound like the BBC Singers, and offhand, I can't think of a worse or more insulting parallel - but I'll work on it. Ggrrrrrr!!!
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Originally posted by DracoM View PostMakes every group sound like the BBC Singers, and offhand, I can't think of a worse or more insulting parallel - but I'll work on it. Ggrrrrrr!!!
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Originally posted by Mandryka View PostCountry and Western aint actually all that bad...the cliche is that it's all about dogs dying, hitting the bottle and finding Jesus but , post-Hank Williams, that has not been the case.
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Paul Sherratt
US country music accurately and honestly documents true life experiences of many, if not most 'working class', largely white, US
citizens. I've never understood why so many people on this side of the pond react so strongly against ( the little ? )
that they've heard.
( The remarkable Dolly Parton hits the target over and over )
And when George Jones sings this, well ...
The dirt was clay and was the color of the blood in me.
A twelve acre farm on a ridge in south Tennessee.
We left our sweat all over that land,
Behind a mule we watched grow old,
Row after row.
Trying to grow corn an' cotton on ground so poor that grass won't grow.
There was one old store in the holler we all called town.
It belonged to a gentle old man named Henry Brown.
He gave us credit and in the winter time,
So we could live through the cold,
When the winds brought snow.
Trying to grow corn an' cotton on ground so poor that grass won't grow.
The one I loved walked through those fields with me.
A hard workin' woman, true as one could be.
But then one year, death was goin' round,
And swiftly took it's toll.
Janie had to go.
Now she lies asleep under ground so poor that grass won't grow.
As I stand here looking over this part of Tennessee,
The fields are bare as far as the eye can see.
And over the ground where Janie lies,
There's a beautiful sight to behold,
And no one knows,
Why there's flowers growin' on ground so poor that grass won't grow...Last edited by Guest; 12-02-11, 12:19.
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Curalach
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