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    320 kbps | 107 MB | LINKS

    New release from the Irish singer/songwriter. An award-winning artist in his home country of Ireland – he has several prestigious Irish Meteor Awards to his name including Best Irish Male and Best Traditional Folk Award – and seventeen years into an astonishing career, Damien Dempsey releases his seventh studio album, Soulsun, possibly his most exciting work to date. The record features a stellar cast of female guest vocalists, referred to in the sleeve notes as ‘the mighty Celtic Warrior High Queens’. Dido joins Damien on a tender love song, Beside the Sea’ and fellow Dubliner, Imelda May, appears on ‘Big Big Love’, an anthemic mid-tempo rock love song, showing a bolder, more contemporary sound that Dempsey explores on the album. Finally, ‘Pretty Bird Tree’ features Dingle singer Pauline Scanlon, a regular collaborator over the years. Soulsun was recorded with long-term producer and collaborator, John Reynolds in north London.

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    BokanteSnarky Puppy founder Michael League has debuted a new project called Bokanté, the self-described as “weird combination of West African music, Delta blues, and Led Zeppelin (with lyrics in Creole and French)”. The newly formed band released their debut LP Strange Circles in May on League’s GroundUP Music label.
    League handles baritone guitar and bass in the eight-piece ensemble alongside lap and pedal steel guitarist Roosevelt Collier, guitarists Chris McQueen and Bob Lanzetti, percussionists Jamey Haddad, André Ferrari and Keita Ogawa and tri-lingual vocalist Malika Tirolien.
    The word bokanté means “exchange” in Creole, the language of vocalist Tirolien’s youth growing up on the Caribbean island of Guadeloupe.

    117 MB  320 ** FLAC

    The music and some of the melodies were written by League, demoed while on tour with other bands, and then sent to Tirolien with lyrical concepts attached. Tirolien then wrote lyrics and melodies, demoing and ping-ponging the new content back to Michael. Many of the musicians had never even met until the first day of recording. By the end of the week-long session in upstate New York’s legendary Dreamland Studios, the band felt abnormally cohesive. “Unity was paramount in the formation of this group,” observed League. “Though the ensemble is multi-lingual, multi-cultural, and multi-generational, we all feel connected as musicians and people. And in combining our different accents I feel that there is a strangely common and poignant sound, one that can reach and relate to listeners around the world.”

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    320 kbps | 102 MB | LINKS

    Shannon McNally return, Black Irish will make you dance, break your heart, and save your soul. The album was recorded in Nashville, but its distinctive sense of place lies 210 miles west, where Memphis meets Mississippi. The primary colors of American music are black and white, and Black Irish displays that hybrid in many shades, mixing country, blues, soul, rock, folk balladry and classic pop.


    The kick off track “You Made Me Feel For You”, was written by her producer, Americana icon, Rodney Crowell, and serves as a metaphor for their collaboration – how his particular understanding of her unique gifts pulled out the career-defining album many have been waiting for since she came on the scene.

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  • 06/09/17--08:10: Sumba Strings, Pt. 6: Gogah
  • Photo courtesy of Dave Bartels

    Photo courtesy of Dave Bartels

    [Tracks recorded by Palmer Keen, mixed and mastered by Joseph Lamont]

    Location: Anajiaka Village, Anakalang District, Central Sumba

    Sound: Gogah

    Add another tube zither to the list! Along with my beloved mouth harps, Indonesia’s vast spread of tube zithers is one of my prime instrumental obsessions. Each instrument is more or less the same - a bamboo cylinder with raised strings carved from its skin around the circumference (organologists call these idiochords). It’s the differences in the permutations, though, that fascinates me, and how they are used to fit different musical needs: The Sundanese celempung and Javanese gumbeng are two or three-string styles beaten like a drum at the end, often played by children; the Karo ketteng-ketteng has a similar form but plays a more serious role in a larger ritual ensemble; the Minangkabau talempong botuang’s five strings allows for melodic play, perfect for playing the interlocking melodic rhythms of talempong gong chime music. 

    And now we have the Sumbanese gogah. Just as the Kodi-style dungga lute is played in Southwest Sumba to replicate local gong rhythms, the gogah’s five bamboo skin strings do their best to take the melodic sounds of Central Sumbanese gong rhythms and pare them down to a handheld format. Unlike the other instruments mentioned above which are usually beaten with a stick, the gogah’s strings are plucked - one string with the thumb, the others with a bamboo pick or palu todu (to allow for this, the gogah’s strings are thinner than the other tube zithers I mentioned). These plucked bamboo zithers seem to be a specialty of the East Nusa Tenggara province - similar plucked instruments are also found in nearby Flores. 


    To play the gogah, the musician grips the instrument by a large hole carved in its middle (aba or “mouth”), pressing the cylinder’s end against his stomach. With his free hand he plucks the strings in the wonderfully off-kilter rhythms of local gong music. In order from top to bottom (but not high to low tonally, as the notes are deliberately out of order to make certain melodies easier to play), the strings replicate the gongs kaboka, pahelung, pahimang, gaha, and katutuk. To make these strings sound even gong-ier, the whole instrument is split down the middle, a feature which somehow makes the tones waver like a shimmering gong (the bamboo talempong from West Sumatra was also split, and now I realize why!) 

    With these features and some clever tuning, the gogah is capable of replicating any song from the vast reportoire of gong music, from processional songs (Tadingan), dance tunes for men (Tadu Katagang) and women (Kabukang), and even a whole slew of funeral pieces (Tau Todu, Tabung, Todu Negu.) The gogah is traditionally something of a children’s toy, an easily-made instrument played by young buffalo herders whiling away the time in the fields. It’s interesting to me that these powerful, sacred gong pieces are seen as appropriate material to be played in such casual circumstances. Either these songs only gain their power when played on gongs and for the right ritual occasions, or perhaps these sacred vibes are allowed to enter even the most quotidian moments in Sumbanese life, those lazy days in the fields with mudbathing buffalo. 


    Stumbling upon the gogah was one of those special YouTube surprises. I was trawling the site for Sumbanese music videos when I chanced upon a video called “Gogah Anakalang - Bamboo Music from Central Sumba.” The clip had been uploaded by Dave Bartels, an American music student who had ridden his bike across Sumba searching out music along the way (he’d even met and recorded the legendary Ata Ratu!) Even though his account had been dormant for years, I took a chance and reached out. Months later, I got a reply! Dave was no longer in America, but he was happy to help. Soon enough he'd sent me the numbers of his friends in Anakalang, miraculously saved in his old Indonesian cell phone. 

    Months later my friends Jo, Logan and I were in the bizarre little town of Waikabubak in Central Sumba. The whole place had a creepy vibe, with an old man who wandered between the town’s three hotels offering full body massages to the handful of tourists and a “downtown” consisting of nothing but dusty Chinese-owned general stores selling plastic flowers and animatronic sax-playing Santas (how or why these things end up in the remote corners of Indonesia remain a mystery to me.) The place was weird, and we wanted out. 


    Luckily the district of Anakalang was less than an hour out of town. A popular destination for the small trickle of culture-loving tourists who find themselves in this corner of Indonesia, Anakalang is a cluster of villages famous for its megalithic tombs. The drive out there was beautiful, a winding road twisting through freshly harvested rice fields and scatterings of umba mbatanguSumba's famous houses with roofs like a witch's hat. 

    After many wrong turns and queries with confused but helpful locals, we found ourselves at the house of Yopi and Fin. Fin was a pendeta (priestess) in the local Protestant church, and it was Yopi who had made Dave's gogah. Just as we arrived, a gang of perfectly made-up women were streaming in and out the front door, all lace blouses and flowing dresses. Tonight, they told us, there was going to be a Christmas-themed choir competition at the church. The whole village was going, we'd have to come! As they were busy telling us this, Yopi reached up and grabbed a gogah from the low-hanging roof of his house, where it had been drying in the sun. "I made it just yesterday", he told us, "when you said you were coming. It's still not quite 'cured.'"

    Just as he was handing it to me, another neighbor came by and told us there was going to be a tarik batu ceremony in the village next door, complete with gongs! Tarik batu, literally "pull stone", is an ancient practice where dozens or even hundreds of villagers get together and pull a huge megalithic stone across miles until resting it on a new tomb. While the choir competition sounded fun, I was excited at the opportunity to finally hear some ritual gong music. A neighbor offered to show us the way to the other village and soon we were off again, promising to our new friends that we'd be back later for Christmas songs and gogah.


    The neighboring village of Galubua Pasunga was a beautiful complex of those witch's hat houses, the roofs covered in zinc rather than grass. A curious group of women welcomed us in, pushing the customary betel nut offering towards us with juicy red-toothed smiles. Looking frustrated, they told us that there'd been a hitch in the stone-pulling. Rather than pull the stone by hand for miles, the neighbors had elected to stick the giant megalith in a truck bed and drive it most of the way. As soon as they'd gotten going the truck had promptly sunk into some mud and had now been stuck for hours.

    We hung out for a while anyway as the ladies spoiled us with freshly grilled pork and betelnut and kids ran about banging on the waiting gongs and drums. I chatted with some saronged old men with mouths full of betelnut, trying to get a sense of what the gong music would be like. Pointing at each gong on the porch, they listed each one's name: mamaulu, pahimang, pahelong, kaboka (I'd later learn that even just one village over these names were different!) Oh, and the drum? "That's laba" they told me. With a black-toothed smile, one of the men pointed above our heads. "In the attic, we've got a drum made from human skin!"

    After waiting more than an hour, it became clear that the stone wasn't going to be coming any time soon, and no stone meant no music. We'd promised not to miss the choir competition, so we thanked everybody for the pork and betelnut and headed back to Anajiaka. The event was already in full swing, the crowd spilling out the door. A choir of men in ill-fitting suit jackets stood at the front of the steaming hall singing Indonesian language Christmas carols as family's in their Sunday best sat in the pews fanning themselves with the printed programs. 

    We'd only been in Anakalang for a few hours and already we'd stumbled upon two seemingly disparate worlds, one of megaliths and human skin drums, the other of lace blouses and Christmas songs. It'd be a mistake to see these as separate realms though, as if one village was traditional, the other modern, one Marapu or animist, the other Christian. In Sumba, these all came together in overlapping layers. Tonight everyone was singing about baby Jesus in the church, but when it came time to pull a megalith across the town and play some ancient gong rhythms, they'd be ready for that too. 

    By that time I almost forgot we'd come to hear gogah. After taking a thousand selfies outside the church with seemingly every member of the congregation, we trekked back to Yopi's house to record. I thought Yopi would play, but it was actually Umbu Rupa, a family member, who was the real pro. Dressed casually in a baseball cap and t-shirt, Umbu Rupa helped us set up with some plastic deck chairs in front of a neighbor's house. The conditions weren't great - the space was lit by the faintest of bare bulbs, and motorbikes and trucks zoomed by every minute on the nearby road. Lacking an alternative, we went ahead anyway, with Umbu Rupa stopping between short pieces to explain the context - that one was for a war dance, this one is for funerals. He knew dozens of gong rhythms, he told me - everybody his age does. If you can play the gongs, you can play the gogah, simple as that. He went on reminiscing about playing gogah in the fields as a child, figuring out those seven-beat rhythms with bamboo in hand. 

    We went back to the strange streets of Waikabubak soon after, but Anakalang stuck in my thoughts even once we were comfortably back in our cheap hotel room. I wondered if, soon after we left, the stone had finally arrived in Galubua Pasunga and the gongs music had finally begun. Would the sound float across the valley and compete with the Christmas carols? Would they play the same songs that Umbu Rupa played in bamboo form? Maybe he'd sit on the porch and play along, sacred rhythms meeting in the air. 


    Huge thanks to Dave Bartels for hooking me up with his sweet friends Fin, Yopi, and Umbu Rupa - check his YouTube channel out for more really great Sumba videos! And of course terima kasih to Fin, Yopi, Umbu Rupa, and the sweet folks in Galubua Pasunga who fed us pork and regaled us with stories of human skin drums. 

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    Afropop is proud to be the first to present the band Rio Mira’s new track, “Agua,” and its remix. The group is a collaboration of musicians from the neighboring countries of Colombia and Ecuador and has an album, Marimba del Pacifico, to be released July 7 on AYA Records, an imprint of ZZK.

    The word marimba traces back to southern Africa, likely from Bantu, but the instrument has found fertile musical ground a hemisphere away—as a national cultural symbol in Guatemala, and featured prominently in music from southern Mexico into South America. The marimba is one of the most visible and clear musical links between Latin America and Africa, and Rio Mira is a new group celebrating its prominence in Afro-Colombian and Afro-Ecuadorian culture.

    Rio Mira is based in the coastal Ecuadorian city of Esmeraldas. In 2015, UNESCO declared marimba music from southern Pacific Colombia and the Esmeraldas Province as an “Intangible Cultural Heritage.” The region was a refuge for enslaved West Africans who were shipwrecked, escaped, or bought their freedom from nearby plantations.

    Behind singer Karla Kanora, Rio Mira created an effusive, celebratory sound, not necessarily a folk style, of rhythms that interlock like tributaries of a river heading to the ocean. “Agua” is specifically about the stories that once traveled via canoe along the Rio Mira.

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    Big State / Sure Thing Жанр : Country/Rock Страна : USA Год издания : 2017 Аудиокодек : MP3 Тип рипа : tracks Битрейт аудио : 320 kbps Продолжительность : 47:19 Треклист : 1.

    Тема на форуме

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    Zac Brown Band - дискография 2005-2017 (8 альбомов) Жанр : country rock, Southern rock Носитель : CD Год издания : 2005-2015 Страна исполнителя (группы) : US Studio Albums Страна-производитель диска : US Год первого выпуска : 2005 Год настоящего издания : 2005 Издатель (лейбл) : Home Croun Music Номер по каталогу : 01632-0 Format : CD, Album, Self Release Аудиокодек : FLAC (*.

    Тема на форуме

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     :.; link Off

    Si possible de le réactiver

    Merci Beaucoup d'avanc...

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    Jason Isbell / The Nashville Sound Жанр : Alternative Country, Southern Rock Страна исполнителя (группы) : USA Год издания : 2017 Аудиокодек : MP3 Тип рипа : tracks Битрейт аудио : 320 kbps Продолжительность : 40:42 Наличие сканов в содержимом раздачи : нет Треклист : 01.

    Тема на форуме

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    320 kbps | 188 MB | LINKS

    Special 20th Anniversary Edition of Third Eye Blind’s eponymous debut album, which features the hits: Semi-Charmed Life, Jumper, How’s It Going To Be.


    01. Losing A Whole Year 03:20
    02. Narcolepsy 03:48
    03. Semi-Charmed Life 04:28
    04. Jumper (1998 Edit) 04:33
    05. Graduate 03:07
    06. How’s It Going To Be 04:13
    07. Thanks A Lot 04:57
    08. Burning Man 02:59
    09. Good For You 03:52
    10. London 03:07
    11. I Want You 04:29
    12. The Background 04:56
    13. Motorcycle Drive By 04:22
    14. God Of Wine 05:17
    15. Alright Caroline 04:50
    16. Scattered 03:16
    17. Slow Motion (Demo) 04:36
    18. Semi-Charmed Life (Demo) 04:19
    19. Kiss Goodnight (Demo) 03:14
    20. Scattered (Demo) 03:15
    21. Heroin (Demo) 04:43
    22. Tattoo Of The Sun (2017 Version) 04:30

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  • 06/09/17--14:15: Remembering Louis Sarno
  • Louis Sarno, an American original who lived for 30 years among Bayaka Pygmies in the Central African rainforest and recorded their polyphonic music more completely than any audio adventurer or ethnomusicologist could dream of, died where he was born, in New Jersey, on April 1, 2017. He was just 62, but withered from bouts with malaria, leprosy and cirrhosis resulting from hepatitis B. In May, a group of his family and friends gathered in a garden in New York’s East Village to eat, drink, listen to the beautifully mysterious music that shaped his life, and remember Louis.

    His brother Steve, whose American life hardly could have been more different, spoke of how much he learned from Louis and what a powerful example he was of living life to the fullest. Noel Lobley of the Pitt Rivers Museum (University of Oxford) recalled the delight of working with Louis to curate the massive collection of recordings and images he left to the museum in 2013. Filmmaker Jim Jarmusch, a close friend since college days, spoke about how he and Louis could make each other laugh so long and hard that they were literally in pain. And many friends and associates remarked at Louis’s remarkable capacity to keep up with news and pop culture while living in one of the most remote corners of the world. Jarmusch said he often kidded Louis, saying that he really never went to Central Africa at all; but rather holed up somewhere soaking in the world and inventing wild stories to tell his friends. One family member noted that Louis knew well that the life he had chosen would not deliver him to a ripe old age. The risks and inevitable exposure to health hazards were simply too great. But Louis had no regrets.

    Louis Sarno gathering in New York, May 2017

    Louis Sarno memorial gathering in New York, May 2017

    I met Louis just once when he visited New York City about four years ago. He knew our program, including the fact that the first recording he had ever heard of Pygmy vocal music was on a broadcast hosted by our own Georges Collinet. (This was before Afropop Worldwide existed, and the story is complicated by the statement in Louis’s memoir, Song From the Forest, that the music was back-announced in Flemish. As best we know, Georges does not speak Flemish. Still sorting that one out…) We drank tea, talked music and politics and goings-on in the Central African Republic, then enduring brutal violence at the hands of Muslim mercenaries. I too was impressed by how connected Louis seemed to so many things despite his radically remote life. I was also struck by his calm, nonplussed manner. He seemed a man troubled by the world but deeply at peace with his place in it.

    Some 20 years before we met, I reviewed Louis’s memoir for the Boston Phoenix. At the time, I had not embarked on my own extended adventures in Mali and Zimbabwe, but when I did, I always held his story in mind. I still consider it the gold standard for total immersion in another culture, and sacrificing all in the name of a passion, one that began with music but extended to all aspects of humanity. Over the years, Louis became a kind of reluctant guardian for the Bayaka, their doctor, their advocate, their defender and a man who struggled against all odds in what he knew was an ultimately doomed effort to defend them against the destructive forces of modernity.

    Louis’s recorded legacy will live on as an unrivaled record of a vanishing music culture. And his efforts on the behalf of the Bayaka survive him. Among his final wishes was to encourage his admirers and friends to donate to an organization he completely trusted to work solely on their behalf. For more on that, visit Global Voices (

    Louis Sarno with Mike O’ Hanlon (Director of the Pitt Rivers Museum)
     (PRM Visant Room, April 2012)
    [Photo by Noel Lobley, Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford]

    Louis’s death inspired me to find that review I wrote of his book back in 1994. So here it is, unedited and unchanged. Count me among those who will always take profound inspiration from this singular man.

    Louis Sarno: Eccentric Explorer

    (Originally published in the Boston Phoenix, 1994)

    “I was drawn to the heart of Africa by a song.” So begins Louis Sarno’s book Song From the Forest: My Life Among the Ba-Benjelle Pygmies (Houghton Mifflin, 1993). In 1980, as a 25-year-old New Jersey college graduate living in Holland and fresh off a failed marriage, Sarno first heard the music that would change his life. “The song on the air was unlike anything I had ever heard,” he remembers. “Voices blending into a subtle polyphony, weaving a melody that rose and fell in endless repetition, as hypnotic as waves breaking on the shore.” The radio credits were given in Flemish, and Sarno gathered only that the song had come from “somewhere in central Africa.”

    He immediately plunged himself into research, digging up every recording that existed of Pygmy music from Zaire, Cameroon, Gabon, and the Central African Republic. He corresponded with the people who had made those recordings, notably Colin Turnbull, who recorded the Mbuti Pygmies of the Ituri Rainforest for the Smithsonian Folkways collection during the 1950s, and wrote the classic ethnography, The Forest People. With Turnbull’s encouragement, an all-consuming curiosity, and a one-way plane ticket to Bangui, capital of the Central African Republic, Sarno set off in search of the most remote and least researched group of Pygmies he could possibly find.

    Sarno knew exactly what he wanted. He had seen photographs of the Pygmies “beehive” dwellings, made of large oval leaves. They would be clad in barkcloths, he presumed, and would welcome a Westerner who loved their music. He would live among them and record their every sound. As for food, “I had intended to survive on Pygmy foods alone, anticipating all sorts of meat, wild forest nuts, tasty roots and tubers, strange delicious fruits.”

    He was sorely disappointed. He ended up in Amopolo, an encampment half a mile south of the village of Bomandjobo, which was built around a sawmill run by Yugoslavians. The Pygmies wore trousers and other clothes plucked from the garbage (“only a scarecrow would have been caught dead in them”) and lived in huts built of plywood scavenged from the lumber yard. They used soap, drank coffee with at least eight lumps of sugar, smoked incessantly, got drunk as often as possible, and fed him mostly with manioc and boiled tadpoles, “which tasted like mud.”

    Sarno tells the story of the Everyman turned eccentric. He seems so normal, except for the obsession that took him from the comfort of home to the forest’s edge. It’s easy to fall in step behind him as he slowly sheds his preconceived notions, which he describes with disarming candor. “What dismayed me most about the Pygmies,” he writes, “–in particular the men, since my interaction with the women was still minimal–was how contemporary, even hip, they seemed. I found it hard to reconcile the people before me with the image I had held of hunter-gatherers, whose every gesture, I had imagined, would be full of ritual significance, every utterance full of wisdom. I noticed no ritual at Amopolo, and its absence prejudiced me against the Pygmies, as if it were their fault for losing it. It had not yet occurred to me that their rituals might be so well integrated into the daily routine that they would escape my notice.

    Sarno’s first attempts at recording prove equally frustrating, and present the classic tale of the disoriented visitor, trying to get the real stuff, never sure whether his subjects are holding out on him or whether he’s just in too much of a hurry. At first, the Bayaka give him a tourist display–sloppy renditions of only their most superficial music. Enraged by such treatment, Sarno eventually erupts in anger, refusing to record and even insulting their lackluster offerings. The outburst works, earning him a modicum of respect, and more importantly, deepening glimpses of the Pygmys’ abundant musical palette.

    After three months, Sarno has given away or been conned out of everything he has brought with him. Having spent all his money buying cigarettes, clothing, tools, alcohol and marijuana for his new friends, and having gone through all the batteries he brought for his tape recorder, Sarno finds himself with no possibilities and no plan. But his fascination is undiminished. It takes a severe bout of malaria to actually make him leave, which he does with the help of charitable Yugoslavians at the sawmill.

    More than two years later, Sarno returns to Amopolo with modest assignments to record music for Dutch radio and for a Brian Eno project involving “forest sounds and ambient music.” Now somewhat clearer about his mission, Sarno consciously rejects the advice of Simha Arom, a famed field recorder. Arom believes in creating special sessions where musicians play pieces that he has preselected.

    “The more I thought about Arom’s method, the more convinced I became that my search was different,” writes Sarno, “It was not just the music I was after; I wanted to record how life really sounded among the Bayaka when no outsiders were present.” This meant making himself an insider, a task most field recorders would recoil from instinctively.

    Sarno’s book includes lots of information about the Bayaka’s music and its role in their lives. He conveys the moods of elanda, the rowdy teenagers’ dance, eboka, the drum dance, elelo, the lament for the dead, mbola, the men’s circle dance, and especially lingokoo, the transcendent, cooing women’s singing associated with marriage. He discusses the local instruments, notably the mondume harp, the geendal zither, and the deeply booming earth bow. Most powerful of all are his descriptions of dances by the mokoondi, or forest spirits. These raffia-clad, sometimes phosphorescent dancers inhabit the Bayaka’s physical and psychic universe. Some mokoondi, such as Ejengi, can visit the encampment for weeks at a time, lurking at the outskirts, or boldly entering the compound to spin and whirl in response to the music, evoking fear and wonder, and attracting many visitors from the nearby village of Bomandjombo.

    The Bayaka’s complex relationship with these more urbane villagers–both a source of supplies and of exploitative and manipulating officialdom–makes great reading. Well aware that his presence necessarily involves interfering with the Bayaka, Sarno consciously attempts to counterbalance his influence with what he sees as the villagers’ more malevolent tampering. Deploring the alcoholic binges that contact with villagers facilitate, Sarno is happiest when the Bayaka move their camp deep into the forest for extended hunting expeditions. There, life and music come into sharper focus.

    A story like this can’t help but add to the romanticization of these fabled forest denizens, especially when Sarno reveals them in their deep forest mode. The Pygmies may have been the first inhabitants of Africa, and their ancient songs convey a profound sense of timelessness–the very morning of the world’s musical culture. But alongside compelling amateur ethnography, Sarno tells an unsettling personal story that becomes more and more dominant as the book progresses.

    Two obsessions rise to overwhelm the musical quest that begins his narrative. First is Sarno’s fear of bees, which exist in variety and abundance in the forest. Mistakenly believing that he is allergic to their stings throughout his second visit, Sarno lives with the constant sense that a moment of inattention, a single bee sting, might leave him dead on the forest floor. When, inevitably, the sting comes and Sarno survives, this obsession evaporates. But the second one, his infatuation with and ultimate marriage to the young Ngbali, remains a severe and bizarre distraction right through the end of his story.

    Sarno accepts the notion of this marriage–originally the Bayaka’s idea–with the same sort of unquestioning leap of faith that originally brought him to Amopolo. But when his bride refuses to sleep with him, talk to him, at times even acknowledge him, Sarno descends into brutalizing fits of depression, jealousy and Proustian absorption.

    Sarno’s inability to meld with the Bayaka torments him deeply. He cites his unconsummated marriage as the principle cause of his despair, but it goes deeper, to a larger sense of isolation. When the Pygmies establish a huge forest camp called Sao-sao, Sarno writes, “The music at night seemed to come from an earlier age, as if the Bayaka had never known anything but the forest. But their joy, and every aspect of their remarkable renaissance at Sao-sao only plunged me closer to despair. I was witnessing it all just when I felt their world slipping away from me forever.”

    Ultimately, it becomes clear that Sarno’s bride wisely objects to the marriage on demonstrably sound grounds. The “white man” cannot provide for her, performing such tasks as hunting and getting honey from the tops of tall trees in the forest. In addition, he will someday leave forever, as did the German music researcher who had previously spent some years living with the Bayaka. At the pit of his depression, Sarno does leave, but in just three weeks, he returns with a book assignment, an advance payment in his pocket, and the awareness that something has changed in him irrevocably. As he writes, “I realized I could never readjust to a life in the West.”

    Sarno’s official papers qualify him only as a music researcher, but both the Bayaka and the villagers believe that his true mission is to “civilize” the Bayaka. This can mean anything from buying them copious quantities of supplies in distant Bangui, to being their doctor, to intimidating village shamans–known as nga-nga dancers–who at one point try to blame Bayaka sorcerers for sabotaging the now-defunct sawmill.

    In an odd way, Sarno comes to accept this amorphous leadership role. He acknowledges its unsavory, paternalistic overtones, but as with so many things, he’s able to dismiss that sort of external judgment because his own personal reality looms larger. At the end of the book, having seen the community through a devastating malaria epidemic that claims many children and teenagers in the clan, Sarno achieves what he considers a truly positive objective, to move the clan to a new base settlement, replacing Amopolo. The new site, the Bayaka’s first to be equipped with outhouses, is also further from the mosquito-infested raffia swamp, a source of malaria, and from the corrupting proximity to villagers.

    In the acknowledgments that end his book, Sarno vigorously rejects any comparison between his work and anthropology. “I am the first to admit my vast ignorance regarding many aspects of [the Bayaka’s] life,” he writes. “Some passages in this book may outrage many anthropologists.” Perhaps. But in revealing himself so candidly, Sarno has created a unique work and he has mapped emotional and thematic territory that any Westerner who would immerse him or herself in a remote culture must negotiate. Sarno raises more questions than he answers, but his willingness to give himself over to the alien makes his a noteworthy case study in the literature of modern cultural explorers.

    “My attitude of acceptance of the forest spirits played a large role in shaping my subsequent experiences,” writes Sarno. “Unlike Alice in Through the Looking-Glass, I find that I can believe impossible things.” That should serve him well. As his narrative ends, Sarno’s wife Ngbali has yet to sleep with him.

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    [Label: STROOM 〰 | Cat#: STRLP-006]

    1. Can You Hear The Rooster Crow (1:12)
    2. Om Swastiastu (4:01)
    3. Bali Pulau Bagus (2:45)
    4. The Moon Is Shining Above The Ricefields (4:12)
    5. Zen-Zai (5:52)
    6. The Running Water (4:19)
    7. Muzak Paintings Positive Movement Part 2 No. 3 (2:33)
    8. India (15:27)
    9. China Town (1:55)
    10. Loi Krathong (3:17)

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    Eivør Pálsdóttir (Eivor Palsdottir) Жанр : Folk, Folk-Rock, Jazz, Country, World Год выпуска диска : 2000-2017 Страна : Syðrugøta, Faroe Islands, 21 July 1983- Аудио кодек : MP3 Тип рипа : tracks Битрейт аудио : 128-320 kbps Продолжительность : 11:16:08 [url=http://en.

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    320 kbps | 82 MB | LINKS


    01. Special Night 05:55
    02. I’m Coming Home 03:13
    03. Work to Do 03:48
    04. Never Be Another You 04:25
    05. Lover Man 03:13
    06. Make the World 03:40
    07. Let Him In 03:45
    08. How I Like It 02:55
    09. Where Is the Love 03:43
    10. Precious Love

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    320 kbps | 287 MB | LINKS


    01. The Wallflower (Roll with Me Henry) 03:05
    02. Hold Me Squeeze Me 02:30
    03. Hey Henry 02:53
    04. Be Mine 02:50
    05. Good Rockin Daddy 02:27
    06. Crazy Feeling 03:18
    07. W-O-M-a-N 02:46
    08. That’s All 02:15
    09. Number One 02:24
    10. I’m a Fool 02:31
    11. Tears of Joy 02:29
    12. Shortin’ Bread Rock 02:32
    13. Tough Lover 02:10
    14. Fools We Mortals Be 02:23
    15. Good Lookin’ 02:11
    16. Then I’ll Care 02:33
    17. Market Place 02:56
    18. The Pick-Up 02:22
    19. By the Light of the Silvery Moon 02:13
    20. Come What May 02:06
    21. Sunshine of Love 02:26
    22. Baby, Baby Every Night 02:24
    23. I Hope You’re Satisfied 03:04
    24. If It Ain’t One Thing 02:18
    25. How Big a Fool 02:41
    26. If I Can’t Have You 02:45
    27. My Heart Cries 02:34
    28. Spoonful 02:49
    29. It’s a Crying Shame 02:53
    30. All I Could Do Was Cry 02:56
    31. Boy of My Dreams 02:23
    32. My Dearest Darling 03:03
    33. Tough Mary 02:26
    34. At Last 03:02
    35. I Just Want to Make Love to You 03:08
    36. Trust in Me 03:00
    37. Anything to Say You’re Mine 02:36
    38. Fool That I Am 02:58
    39. Dream 02:26
    40. Don’t Cry, Baby 02:26
    41. Sunday Kind of Love 03:17
    42. It’s Too Soon to Know 02:48
    43. Seven Day Fool 03:02
    44. Something’s Got a Hold on Me 02:48
    45. Waiting for Charlie to Come Home 02:07
    46. Stop the Wedding 02:51
    47. Street of Tears 02:34
    48. Next Door to the Blues 02:48
    49. Fools Rush In 02:00
    50. How Do You Speak to an Angel 02:37
    51. Would It Make Any Difference to You 02:39
    52. Dance with Me Henry 02:21

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    Véronique Chalot / J'ai Vu Le Loup Жанр : French Folk, Celtic, Early Music Носитель : WEB Год издания : 1978 Издатель (лейбл) : Materiali Sonori Номер по каталогу : MASO 003 Страна : France Аудиокодек : FLAC (*.

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    The Official UK Top 40 Singles Chart 9th June (2017)

    Artist: The Official UK Top 40
    Title: Singles Chart
    Label: BBC Radio 1, OfficialCharts
    Style: Synthpop, Folk, Dancehall, Neo Soul, Disco, Future Bass, New Wave, Electropop, Indie
    Release Date: 09-06-2017
    Format: Top, Compilation
    Quality: 320 Kbps/Joint Stereo/44100Hz
    Tracks: 40 Tracks
    Size: 341 Mb / 02:26:53 Min

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    320 kbps | 110 MB | LINKS

    Country/Southern roots music that incorporates Bluegrass, Americana and Rock.

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    320 kbps | 119 MB | LINKS

    Bar band swagger, honky-tonk stomp, and pop-rock smarts and vigor. Irreverent and entertaining, blending biographical and pure-fiction into a haywire, high-octane result.

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    The Cripple Creek Band • Bonafide Жанр : Country/Southern Rock Страна : USA (Sacramento, CA) Год издания : 2017 Аудиокодек : MP3 Тип рипа : tracks Битрейт аудио : 320 kbps Продолжительность : 00:46:22 Наличие сканов в содержимом раздачи : нет 01.

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