With your feet in the air and your head on the ground

Bergen, Hardanger, Bergen, Trondheim, Bergen, London, Bergen, London, Oslo, London, L.A., Auckland. In 2 weeks.

With your feet in the air and your head on the ground...
Or upside down, whatever you like. And this has nothing to do with the fact that we're on the other side of this globe, or anything like that. I guess it's about rotating prospectives and changing points of view on timetables and rythms. All opinions are basically smashed down on the floor, and while you walk towards them to pick them up and put them together, you slide on them like on a banana skin and smash yourself on the floor too.

So. I'm sitting on a leather sofa (my legs stickin' to it) drinking Waikato draught. The air is warm and full of summerish sounds. People walk around barefoot, and I still have a problem telling whether this is a gummy dream or sweet reality. And oh, I chew it anyway.

The room is full of half-unpacked luggage, and I have serious problems keeping my eyes open at 6 p.m. But i like it, I like how everything's happening so fast that i barely (and roughly) have the time to process it. I like the way all the pulsions just flow through me without any need for analysis.

I like it, like it.
The pics are on their way, a couple of weeks delayed as always.

B&W session

Futuristic

You're sitting on the bus, and you plug your headphones into the radio. But what you hear has nothing to do with the landscape you're used too. The sounds that seem crawling into your brain and attaching themselves to the air you breathe in are like nothing you've heard before. 

What is it like?

Mozart never got lost, but almost no one goes around listening to medieval troubadours songs through their iPod. I think. On the other hand, Neil Young may not be selling as many vinyls as for thirty years ago, but there are still people who'd rather listen to him than to Lady Gaga. 

Anyways, it's all there. Centuries of music behind our shoulders. Some peculiar people spend their time accumulating music as if they were hamsters. And as if the songs were peanuts. So at a certain point you do come to the question "and then?".

After the hardest rock, after the roughest rap, after the most pacifically rebel and strange indie and after the most experimental electro. What will there be? Where's the music going?

It's hard to take, but in fifty years again we'll be out of date, just like the music we listen to. Will everybody walk around listening to sounds instead of melodies, or to wordless songs? Would that be possible, abandoning the poetry and all the beautiful words that are now floating around in rivers of notes? Will we be listening to something divine, amazing, something with therapeutic effects? Will the poetry once again abandon its bigger friend and find a new one? 

What song will you have on the top of your playlist in fifty years?

I'm just so curious!