quinta-feira, 29 de novembro de 2018

segunda-feira, 26 de novembro de 2018

domingo, 25 de novembro de 2018

sexta-feira, 23 de novembro de 2018

terça-feira, 20 de novembro de 2018

A kind of magic

Os Queen foram uma referência de qualquer puto que se preze nos anos 80.
E Freddie Mercury o show-man absoluto que fez dos estádios a sua sala-de-estar. E a nossa, porque só o(s) podíamos ver pela televisão.
Para nós o filme é voltar atrás. À sala da televisão e do VHS. E gostar disso.
Para os miúdos mais velhos lá de casa foi conhecer um bocadinho desse mundo.
E gostar também. E isso tem muita piada.

terça-feira, 13 de novembro de 2018

segunda-feira, 5 de novembro de 2018

domingo, 4 de novembro de 2018

Wilson Sounds

«When I hear those voices, I try to shut them out. I’m just trying to get a feel for the room and how the songs will come alive inside of it. I’m also trying to get a feel for where I fit into all of this. Back in the old days with the Boys, I never liked going onstage. People used to write about how I seemed stiff. Then they started writing about how I had stage fright. It’s a weird phrase, “stage fright.” I wasn’t afraid of the stage. I was afraid of all the eyes watching me, and of the lights, and of the chance that I might disappoint everyone. There were so many expectations that I could figure out in the studio, but they were different onstage. A good audience is like a wave that you ride on top of. It’s a great feeling. But a crowd can also feel the other way around, like a wave that’s on top of you.

There are other voices, too, along with Chuck Berry and Phil Spector and my dad. The other voices are worse. They’re saying horrible things about my music. Your music is no damned good, Brian. Get to work, Brian. You’re falling behind, Brian. Sometimes they just skip the music and go right for me. We’re coming for you, Brian. This is the end, Brian. We are going to kill you, Brian. They’re bits and pieces of the rest of the people I think about, the rest of the people I hear. They don’t sound like anyone I know, not exactly, except that I know them all too well. I have heard them since I was in my early twenties. I have heard them many days, and when I haven’t heard them, I have worried about hearing them.

My whole life I’ve tried to figure out how to deal with them. I’ve tried to ignore them. That didn’t work. I’ve tried to chase them away with drinking and drugs. That didn’t work. I’ve been fed all kinds of medication, and when it was the wrong kind, which was often, that didn’t work. I have had all kinds of therapy. Some of it was terrible and almost did me in. Some of it was beautiful and made me stronger. In the end, I have had to learn to live with them. Do you know what that’s like, to struggle with that every single day of your life? I hope not. But many people do, or know someone who does. Everyone who knows me knows someone who does. So many people on the planet deal with some type of mental illness. I’ve learned that over the years, and it makes me feel less lonely. It’s part of my life. There’s no way around it. My story is a music story and a family story and a love story, but it’s a story of mental illness, too. »