But it did. By then, Jerry Garcia's heroin addiction had seemingly taken control of both his health and the music, and we watched both decline sharply. There were moments of resurrection, fleeting pockets of optimism where it seemed something might re-ignite from the embers of what had once been fiery and bright, but it never took hold. The crowds became unwieldily. The Dead were banned from favorite venues that had inspired both their music and the crowd. Like a child who grows up to marry someone destructive and violent and finds themselves no longer welcome at family functions, the Dead could find no way to divorce themselves from the runaway train that became their following and redefined who they were to an already misguided public. 

For the record, I followed the Dead around for many, many years. I danced in a skirt, had long hair, even got to hang with Jerry once. Most every Dead show I saw I saw sober. Yes, I had done a lot of drugs in my youth and even dabbled here and there while on tour and beyond, but I preferred my shows straight. The music got me high. That's the truth. The music. 

Lee Johnson, a classical music composer and someone who, until recently, was unfamiliar with the music of the Grateful Dead, chose to study their music and history in-depth for what would later become his Dead Symphony No. 6. He recently wrote these eloquent words about his newest musical discovery:

It took a mere handful of people, lead by masterful non-leader Jerry Garcia, working on a canvas thirty years long, four-hours-a-jam-every-night wide, to evolve the original sound. And what a sound it was: modest in instrumentation, no "star" vocalists among them, but offering up so richly eclectic a repertoire of American song, such a variable yet transcendent vision, that no group from the Era of Peace and Love has ever surpassed them. Like Whitman, this little band was large, it contained multitudes. 

So now when I venture back to the land of the Dead--and I often do--in the comfort of my living room or through the tiny speakers of my headphones, it's almost always to the era when I first discovered them, and sometimes into the age when I was seeing them, before the tidal wave of popular culture crashed down upon them. 

To their credit, they lasted 30 years. 30 years of improvisational musical exploration. Their sound changed in many ways. Most of it great. I've been told by the musically challenged that the Dead were not very good musicians. This is a statement that always astounds me. You see, as a musician myself, I am still left awe-inspired by the craftsmanship and pure talent that was the Grateful Dead. Like the greatest jazz musicians, the Dead pulled off something almost alien to most other musicians. But like so much great art, it is often misunderstood by the public at large and brushed off as being a fad or, as it is in this case, having more to do with the scene around it than with the art itself. 

As for the Dead's commercial popularity, the songs that are best known to non-heads are almost always the little ditties, the more hummable tunes, fun, but rarely reflective of the depths the Dead could obtain. But once in a while, those little ditties would explode with bursts of pure energy and joy. The following clip is of one of those ditties. An encore from 1978 that in later years seemed to become somewhat of a "throwaway". And for those who never saw the Dead as a rock and roll band or who think of Jerry as the overweight, immobile figure he became in his final, most popular years, this rendition of the still timely song, U.S. BLUES, while admittedly rough around the edges, will give you a genuine taste of the deep joy and energy that drew me in those many years ago and still has a very welcome and warm hold on me. It also shows, in no uncertain terms, that when Jerry was on, so was everyone around him.

Turn it up and enjoy. 

Y es que este disco, junto con otros de Jean Michel Jarre como Oxygene o Zoolook, es uno de esos álbumes que resisten perfectamente la prueba del tiempo y, como los buenos vinos, adquiere más fuerza y solera a medida que pasan los años.

Quizá estemos ante el más fino trabajo de arte en toda la carrera de Jean Michel Jarre; quizá nos encontremos ante el momento más brillante de su carrera y el de más inspiración.

Tras un deslumbrante "debut" masivo con Oxygene, en 1976, todos los ojos estaban puestos en Jarre para ver (o más bien oír) cómo iba a ser su "segundo" disco (en realidad era el cuarto, pero los dos primeros discos, Deserted Palace y la BSO de la película Les Granges Brulees, de 1972 y 1973 respectivamente, no los conocía ni su mismísimo padre), y resulta que deslumbró a propios y extraños sacándose de la manga una vuelta de tuerca del Oxygene, pero con sonidos, ritmos, texturas y melodías que, si bien ya quedaban bien perfiladas en Oxygene, dejaban asombrados al oyente al reparar en el perfecto equilibrio entre belleza y técnica que Jarre llegó a conseguir con Equinoxe.

Y encima, estaba de moda la era espacial, la new age y toda esa movida, por lo que mucha gente quiso ver una relación entre el espacio y la música de Equinoxe, y ciertamente existe esta relación (en un principio, este disco iba a llamarse Venus), aunque Jarre compuso este disco inspirándose en las 24 horas de un día, y reflejando en cada una de las 8 piezas de las que se compone el álbum un momento específico del día y de la noche.

En muchas ocasiones Jarre ha dicho que con sus discos siempre ha tratado de realizar "paisajes sonoros" y vive Dios que, con Equinoxe, Jarre consigue este cometido con creces. Simplemente hay que cerrar los ojos y verdaderos "paisajes sonoros" desfilan por tu mente, tan evocadora es la escucha de este disco. Es un poco como si estuvieras oyendo un cuadro impresionista, en vez de viéndolo...

Otra cosa que llama la atención de Equinoxe es la magnífica portada elegida para ilustrar el álbum; se trata de una obra pictórica de Michel Granger que representa a una caterva de tipos, todos clónicos, mirando por unos prismáticos a lo que viene a ser una especie de escenario. En mi opinión, una de las mejores portadas que he visto para ilustrar gráficamente un álbum.

No es mi intención con este artículo el realizar un análisis concienzudo del disco tema por tema, ni tan siquiera recomendaros que lo escuchéis, sino que ésta es únicamente mi particular celebración y homenaje a un disco tan especial y de tanta importancia para mí, y que suena tan fresco como si se hubiera grabado ayer mismo.

Qué suerte que este disco sea inmortal, que haya envejecido tan bien y con tanta dignidad (cosa que, lamentablemente, no se puede decir de su autor) y qué gran fortuna haber podido deleitarse con miles y miles de escuchas (y las que quedan) de Equinoxe.

Few topics seem as unresolvable as what was the greatest game ever played. As I sit at Safeco Field today, the Mariners are playing their 5,000th regular season game - imagine trying to pick the greatest out of just that group.

But Richard Bradley contends that the playoff game to determine the 1978 American League East Division champion ranks as the greatest ever - and he's going to tell you all about it in his new book.

The book works because Bradley doesn't make the case for one team or another -- he manages to play it pretty much down the middle. Not being a fan of either team, nor old enough to remember the game or invested enough in the relationship to care about it currently, I wasn't interested in being swayed to one side or the other, and luckily I wasn't.

As I've read other critiques of the book - something I've noticed is a handful of errors in the work, ranging from incorrect game scores to incorrectly identifying whether a player was right-handed or left-handed. I'm the first to admit that my eye wasn't looking for errors when I read it, and I haven't gone back and fact-checked everything, something I'm becoming inclined to do when I have a bit more time on my hands.

I'm not going to be an apologist for errors -- the truth is that there shouldn't be any in a well-written and well-researched book. If you have a vivid memory of that game and those teams, you'll probably be raising your eyebrows throughout the book.

The format of the book works well - putting each half inning at a time into its own chapter and interspersing a chapter of background story between them. Every game is played with context and history, and this game is no exception. For those of us who weren't there for the game, these chapters are incredibly beneficial as they help paint the picture that the game action happens within.

Had the book been error free, I would have given it a whole-hearted recommendation, not just for those interested in that particular game or these particular teams, but for those who enjoy well written game recaps and baseball history. The Yankees-Red Sox rivalry is one of the best in sports, and to see a key game 30 years later captured in such a well-written and well-executed book is a treat. Just read it with a critical eye.

I once knew a girl,

Despite her tender age, she was more so a woman.

Beautiful she was, to both my heart and eye.

It was the pain she endured before I met her

That was the reason I wept after I lost her.

I say, I couldn’t have helped her,

In here past she’d had too much too soon.

The pressures of motherhood, lovelorn turmoil,

Chemical dependency with religious hang-ups,

And I shed tears because I wasn’t there.

I can’t understand her even now,

She may not need to comprehend my feelings.

It was she who stood undaunted and continued on,

Resolved, unlike me, to live despite obstacles,

While I cried for my memory of her.

I realize we might never have romanced,

She was halted from trying by the frailty of health.

Her experiences set the path she chose, and oddly

It was the pain she endured before I met her

That was the reason I wept after I lost her.

Chapter I

1. In the beginning I alone existed.
2. Since that time I created the world, and tried to communicate my opinions of the matter in a much longer work.
3. My words were hideously misinterpreted – either that or I have changed my mind, so long ago that I cannot remember doing so.
4. The purpose of the present work is to clear up the misconstrued ideas.  I freely admit that this explanation was a long time in coming.
5. I want to put one thing straight: I am not quite the type to acknowledge mistakes.  Therefore, I will not do so.
6. Still, there is something to say for myself.
7. Life is a cruel joke, and I created life.  I do not live the cruel joke, and as such it does not bother me.
8. I have tried to empathize with this thing, but since I can never die I cannot ever live either.  I do not feel the pangs of reality because I am without the necessary appendage with which to grasp it.
9. Yet, if I wanted to comprehend this cruel reality, I could find a way to do it.
10. Neither do I have an emotion to express about life.  It is better that I do no grasp it then, because I am incapable of hating it, nor of loving it.
11. I will not take away my creation so that it would cease to exist.  As it is reality it will not be removed, for it fills a void.
12. Life is cruel because there exists no equipment with which to grasp it.  The necessary appendage will not be created.  If life were grasped in its fullness, consequences would occur that I will not explain.

Chapter II

1. I find tense difficult to keep.
2. I have put in chronological perspective all of the events of the worlds.  Dates are fixed to the events; those artificial labels are all that keeps events in order.
3. Other than for the sake of time’s progression, events function separately and irrespective of anything else, including other events.
4. What this means is that history is random to me.
5. There is no reason for anything to happen at any specific time; it is only important that events occur.
6. The consequence of grasping the meaning of life is an event, and as such it too has an occurrence.
7. I make the value judgments that stand.  I do not choose to make many, but that life is cruel is one of them.
8. I said that the consequence of grasping the meaning of life is an event.  And so it is.
9. I say also that the grasping of life itself is not an event.
10. Events are random but are usually separated into cause and effect.
11. One consequence is uncoupled with a cause, however.
12. I have deemed it so.  It is part of the cruelty of life that its effect occurs without cause.

Chapter III

1. I am self reliant.
2. I must look only to myself for strength, likewise for weakness.  That is convenient, simple, black and white, two-value thinking for me.
3. Since I make the value judgments, I say that distinctions in only black and white do not exit.
4. I can rely upon myself to make this rule, for it uncomplicates my actions.
5. It was formerly said that there is good on one side and evil on the other.  This type of distinction does not actually exist.
6. Therefore, there are no absolutes, ever.
7. I say that there is no good and there is no evil; as I have deemed it, so it stands.  I am not absolute, much less the absolute good, as I was previously misrepresented.
8. It is my self-reliance that makes this point.  I must rely upon myself to ease my own way.
9. That is why I do not choose to grasp the meaning of life, cruelness that it is.
10. I say that reality exists in this manner because it is without consequence that I say it.
11. Self-reliance is a workable response to life.
12. Were there no meaning to anything, including life, then it would not be necessary to have a plan of action.  I find it necessary to have one to keep things in perspective.

Chapter IV

1. I am getting weary of existence.
2. Formerly it seemed to me that I was infinite; that was my previous observation on my relationship to reality.
3. I am not an integral part of the maintenance of all existence.  Reality keeps existence intact.
4. It was previously not so.  I have changed my mind.
5. I have used self-determination to make this creation.
6. Reality is the appendage that keeps all existence from failing now.
7. This change was made by my choice as a convenience to me.  I do not want to maintain further authority over anything.
8. I am tired of wielding power and making the things that stand.
9. I say “it is so” and so it is: life is cruel, there is no order, there are no absolutes.
10. I have given up the power, as it serves no purpose now.  Events progress without need for interference.
11. There is no need for further obscure symbolism in the world, nor absolute control.  There is no enjoyment in it, and without it, there is joy.
12. Because of this pronouncement I have no joy in continuance, being stripped of power and purpose.  I therefore no longer intervene in reality; for the sake of practicality, it would be well enough to say that I no longer exist.
13. However, as a spiteful irregularity, I still do.

The Spirit of '78, Stayin' Alive

Everyone seems to be telling us that if you want to understand 2008, you have to look back 40 years to 1968. "It's the year that changed everything," wrote Newsweek last November. Seen through tie-dye-tinted glasses, Iraq is the new Vietnam, Barack Obama is the new Bobby Kennedy, and bloggers are the new student activists.

But are we commemorating the right year? If we really want a time that defined the way we live now, we should look back not to the romance and trauma of the '60s but to the gloriously tacky '70s, to the year that made modern America -- 1978.

I'm also very glad to be in Michigan at this time in my life.  Two years ago on my birthday we took a trip to Mackinac Island.  I looked out over the bow of the boat at rainbows forming in the freshwater spray.  The wind whipped through our hair and out over the straits of Mackinac, the iron bridge took on a soft look in the bright sunlight.  It was a moment so well-engrained that while my body was secretly host to a silent mutation, I dreamed of my good-byes to family.  Each time I said goodbye in dreams, I walked into the spray and knew then I was passing into a new realm, though at the time I didn't even believe in Santa Clause.  I discovered the lump two days later and my life was forever changed.  

In a way, being up here feels like the closing of some loop.  Like I've been here before, but my path has changed.  Left untreated, NHL kills within two-years.  Most recurrences take place within the first two years into remission.  Whatever the significance, this experience has completed a two-year cycle.  At a time when I believed I would regret the turning of a decade, I am elated to put my twenties behind me; to embark full-throttle on a new adventure; to leap into the next phase of my life uninhibited; to count rainbows on the spray and to take on the softer look wisdom grants us as we age.

Aquest es en José Vélez, la primera foto es del seu disc de 1978 "Bailemos un vals" ja el veieu es la felicitat personificada. La segona foto es del seu últim disc "Auténtico" del 2007, ja s'ha acabat l'alegria i entrem a la depresió, perquè?

Any 1978:

Salaris

Salari base administratiu de 2ª -Tallers Norvasa- : 28000 Pts -168 €- mensuals

Salari mínim interprofessional: -18000 Pts - 108 €. Mensuals.

Valor immoble Pis de 90 m2. En extraradi d'una gran capital: entre 400.000 i 600.000 Ptes. -2400 a 3600 €-

Carburants

Litre de gasolina 24 Ptes. 14 Cts. d'Euro.

Diversos

Diari 8 Ptes. 5 Cts. d'Euro.

Transport públic. 5 Ptes. 3 Cts. d'Euro.

Barra de pa 9 Ptes. 5.5 Cts. d'Euro.

Any 2007:

Salaris

Salari base administratiu de 2ª -Tallers Norvasa- : 872 € mensuals.

Salari mínim interprofessional: 570 €. Mensuals.

Valor immoble Pis de 90 m2. A l'extraradi d'una gran capital: entre 220.000 i 350.000 €

Carburants

Litre de gasolina 1.10 €

Diversos

Diari 1. €

Transport públic. 1. €

Barra de pa 55 Cts.

Amb aquestes dades es pot assegurar el següent: Un treballador mig

podia comprar en 1978….

1 Pis amb 17 mensualitats.

1166 Litres de gasolina amb 1 mensualitat.

3500 Diaris amb 1 mensualitat.

5600 Bitllets d'autobús amb 1 mensualitat.

3111 Barres de pa amb 1 mensualitat.

Un treballador mig pot comprar en 2007.…

1 Pis amb 320 mensualitats.

792 Litres de gasolina amb1 mensualitat.

872 diaris amb 1 mensualitat.

872 bitllets d'autobús amb 1 mensualitat.

1585 Barres de pa amb 1 mensualitat.

No hi ha cap dubte de que hem entrat a l'estat del benestar.

Font:

http://www.kaliyuga.es/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=58&Itemid=41

I Brand New Funk sono un gruppo non molto conosciuto, prodotto da Sylvia Robinson e composto probabilmente da musicisti del giro Sugarhill. Non è facile recuperare informazioni precise sulla line up del gruppo, e credo questo sia l'unico lavoro che abbiano pubblicato -a parte qualche singolo, quasi sempre estratti da questo stesso disco.

Quello che ci offrono è un buon funk di fine stagione, condito da slap di una certa ignoranza e da un pizzico di suoni elettronici. "Tastee" è una bella traccia strumentale che ospita dei felici ed essenziali fiati, ed ha un break niente male a base di piano elettrico e chitarra [probabilmente è anche stata campionata per qualcosa di noto], la grossa "Classic funk" dai potenti claps e vocals è un'ottima compagna per i momenti di caciara con gli amici :-) , la allegra "Fingers do the walking" ogni tanto torna a farsi sentire nella mente anche a distanza di tempo, e pure "Lowdown" merita un ascolto.

Insomma nulla di cui non si possa vivere senza, ma se serve qualcosa di spensierato e non troppo impegnativo da sentire in compagnia con gli amici, è un'ottima scelta per la selezione.

fabio

Hi.

Last Wednesday's City Lights Cruise Night brought out a lot of great cars and great people, even if it was a school night (gasp!)  Everything from shiny new Mazdas to classics like this '57 came out to be seen.

Craig Churchman's '31 Chevy business coupe looks good from any angle.  The six shooter nestled under an imaginary hood, the big whitewalls, and the miniature beer keg let the world know what kind of a hot rod this is.  Once you get past that, it's details like the radical pinstriping (below) that makes eyes pop out of their sockets.

Here's another wicked ride, but with 100% more fender!  Brent Piper brought this little Model A Roadster out for a spin, along with Griff Gill.  Together, they make up two-thirds of the Lucky Devils Car Club-"The biggest little car club in Winnipeg."  Their collective collection has thirteen cars in total, including Brent's "so historically accurate it hurts" '48 Ford pickup.

Just to prove that there's one of every vehicle known to mankind in Winnipeg, here's an American Motors-built Eagle from the early 80's.  Yes, that's the proper ride height, and yes, those big BFG's are supposed to be on the front.  The Eagle division of American Motors (which became a part of Chrysler for a short time) produced several variations of 4x4 cars, including a wood-paneled station wagon with factory mudder tires.

This bad-ass '78 Monte Carlo was the cooler part of Nick Kowalyk's education.  While taking an autobody painting class at Winnipeg Tech high school, Nick wanted to do something beyond just painting it black.

Now, don't get me wrong; the deep glossy black on the back half of the car looks good on its own.  But adding the unique red & yellow flames makes it really stand out from the crowd.  Nick's not even close to done with the car yet;  he's planning on swapping out the tired 305 small block and re-vamping the interior.

Now that Nick is out of highschool and doesn't have access to Winnipeg Tech's painting tools, he's purchased an airbrushing kit for his next project--learning to make True Flames.  The only catch is that Nick is also the proprietor of his own car detailing business, and needs something to jazz up the menopausal-yellow '99 Chrysler Town & Country minivan that he works out of.  Will the "Mad Monte" get the new paint hotness or will the tool hauler benefit from Nick's skill?  Only time will tell....

That's it for me, but make sure to check out today's installment of Willy's Garage in today's Winnipeg Free Press (read the online version here).  Paul Williamson (aka "Willy") is one of Winnipeg's best automotive writers, not to mention the friendliest local celebrity in town.  Just show up at any Sunday Night Cruise at the Pony Corral, or the Wednesday night City Lights Cruise Night, and he'll be there checking out your ride.

Artista : Bobby Caldwell
Album : What You Won't Do for Love ( 1978 )
Canción : What you won't do for love / Lo que no harás por amor  ver video
Tipeado por : www.google.cl
Traducido por : neutroweb

I guess you wonder where I've been
I searched to find a love within'
I came back to let you know
Got a thing for you and I can't let go

My friends wonder what is wrong with me
Well I'm in a daze from your love, you see
I came back to let you know
Got a thing for you and I can't let go

Some people go around the world for love
But they may never find what they dream of
What you won't do, do for love
You've tried everything but you don't give up
In my world only you
Make me do for love
What I would not do

My friends wonder what is wrong with me
Well I'm in a daze from your love, you see
I came back to let you know
Got a thing for you and I can't let go

Although I only want the best it's true
They can't believe the things I do for you
What you won't do, do for love
You've tried everything but you won't give up
In my world, only you
Make me do for love
What I would not do

Make me do for love
What I would not do

Make me do for love
What I would not do

Make me do for love
What I would not do

Temazo Traducido

supongo que te has preguntado donde he estado
busqué para encontra un amor dentro
volvi para hacerte saber
que siento algo por ti y no lo puedo dejar

mis amigos se preguntan que pasa conmigo
bueno, estoy algo aturdido por tu amor, verás
volvi para hacerte saber
que siento algo por ti y no lo puedo dejar

algunas personas viajan por el mundo en busca del amor
pero quizas nunca podrán encontrar lo que sueñan
lo que no harás, por amor
has intentado de todo pero no te das por vencido
en mi mundo solo tu
logras que haga por amor
lo que no haría

mis amigos se preguntan que pasa conmigo
bueno, estoy algo aturdido por tu amor, verás
volvi para hacerte saber
que siento algo por ti y no lo puedo dejar

aunque yo solo quiero lo mejor, es cierto
ellos no pueden creer las cosas que hago por ti
lo que no harás, por amor
has intentado de todo pero no te das por vencido
en mi mundo solo tu
logras que haga por amor
lo que no haría

logras que haga por amor
lo que no haría

logras que haga por amor
lo que no haría

logras que haga por amor
lo que no haría

Burning - ¿Que Hace una chica como tú en un sitio como éste? (1979)

Loquillo y Trogloditas con Pepe Risi - ¿Que Hace una chica como tú en un sitio como éste? (1997)

Friday night, it was late
I was walking you home
We got down to the gate
And I was dreaming of the night
Would it turn out right

I tried to stop myself but I couldn't.  I kept looking around for someone to stop it but no luck. I was by myself.  It was like something spilling out of my head...

How to tell you girl
I wanna build my world around you
Tell you that it's true
I wanna make you understand
I'm talkin' about a lifetime plan

What the hell was happening to me?  How in the world did I know the words to that song.  Sure, it sounded familiar as in I think I've heard it on Muzak while in an elevator.  And it just kept happening.  There was no off button.

That's the way it began, we were hand in hand
Glenn Miller's Band was better than before
We yelled and screamed for more
And the Porter tunes "Night and Day"
Made us dance across the room
It ended all too soon
And on the way back home
I promised you'd never be alone

I can't remember what I ate for dinner the night before most of the time and here I was getting every word right.  I started to become more at ease reasoning that it was almost impossible that I was possessed.  And if I was possessed I guess singing songs I don't know wouldn't be so bad.  As long as there wasn't any pea soup or head rotation I should be OK...

Hurry, don't be late
I can hardly wait
I said to myself when we're old
We'll go dancing in the dark
Walking through the park and reminiscing

There was a little break in the song.  I looked around while I was stopped at the light.  Was anyone looking?  Could they tell I was totally singing my lungs out?  The rear view mirror looked clear.  There was a big box truck to my right and no one on my left.  So far so good.  Would it continue?  I felt a heave...

Friday night, it was late
I was walking you home
We got down to the gate
And I was dreaming of the night
Would it turn out right
Now as the years roll on
Each time we hear our favorite song
The memories come along
Older times we're missing
Spending the hours reminiscing

That's right.  I finished the song.  Where the hell did that come from?  I felt drained and exhausted.  I had no idea who sang it and when it was released.  I wearily walked through the front door of my office and sat down at the computer.  I pulled up google and typed in part of the refrain.  Reminiscing, Little River Band, 1978.  I was six years old.  The only thing I remember listening to in 1978 was the Grease Soundtrack over and over again.  I had it on 8 track and I played it so many times that the tape broke.

Somehow this song had entered my brain and stuck like glue.  What else is in there?  Can I get rid of any of it to make room for more important stuff?  For example, I would love to store my mother-in-law's birthday (September ??), or be able to remember that I have to put the trash out on Monday, no Tuesday morning.  At least I remember the trash day because the big hint is when I leave for work and see everyone else's cans by the road.  The mother-in-law birthday reminder is usually after the fact and the ramifications are not as pleasant as missing garbage day.  It just seems like a waste of gray matter.

For those of you who had a great time Reminiscing check out the video.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P5RDn5Y0D_0  For those of you who feel my pain let me know!

Joaquín Sabina, poeta y cantautor español conocido por todos. Calle Melancolía es una canción compuesta y popularizada por Sabina en 1978. Se editó dos años después en el disco 'Malas Compañias' (del cuál destaco también 'Pongamos Que Hablo De Madrid' y 'Que Demasiao').

Joaquín Sabina - Calle Mealncolía (Joaquín Sabina y Viceversa)

'Que Demasiao' es una canción interpretada por Pulgarcito (Gracias a la que el nombre de Joaquín Sabina empezó a oirse) que contaba la historia real de 'El Jaro', un delincuente juvenil.

'Pongamos Que Hablo De Madrid', convertido para muchos en un himno de esa cuidad, fue gravado primero por Antonio Flores (versión que alcanzó en número 1 en el programa de radio Los 40 principales).

Antonio Flores - Pongamos Que Hablo De Madrid

Full Story courtesy of NWS La Crosse

During the summer of 1978, several flash floods impacted parts of the area between June 30th and September 12th.  Four flash floods (June 30-July 2, July 5-6, July 16-17, & September 12) affected southeast Minnesota and one flash flood (June 30-July 2) occurred in west central and southwest Wisconsin.  These flash floods/floods severely impacted Rochester and Austin, Minnesota and the residents along the Kickapoo River.  They also caused 13 deaths (June 30-July 2 - 8 deaths and July 5-6 - 5 deaths).
If you have your own stories of the flash flooding back in the summer of 1978 and would like them recorded on this webpage (NWS La Crosse), please send them to the National Weather Service via e-mail at Jeff.Boyne@noaa.gov or via regular mail at N2788 County Rd. FA, La Crosse, WI 54601-3038.

Problemi al ginocchio lo fecero ritirare dal mondo dello sport solamente nel 1984. Di lui sono giunte poche notizie: problemi di alcool, una spirale distruttiva che lo rese irriconoscibile, la morte sopraggiunta a soli 40 anni, nel 1999, nella sua città natale. (http://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vladimir_Yashchenko ; http://www.webatletica.it/index.php?module=News&func=display&sid=4)

Nel loro album Bachelite del febbraio 2008, gli Offlaga Disco Pax hanno dedicato una canzone all'atleta, canzone il cui titolo è "Ventrale" e può essere ascoltata nel loro myspace (http://www.myspace.com/odp130). Il testo della canzone invece lo trovate QUI

(il copyright delle foto è dei rispettivi proprietari http://visualrian.com/images/?text=vladimir+yashchenko&section=photo)

Enquanto 16 seleções corriam atrás do título da 11ª Copa do Mundo, milhares de argentinos encontravam-se presos por motivos políticos. E também estrangeiros vinculados à esquerda: a maioria esmagadora dos uruguaios mortos durante a ditadura em seu país foram seqüestrados e assassinados na Argentina, graças à cooperação entre as ditaduras - a Operação Condor.

Segundo esta página, a Copa do Mundo de 1978 custou à Argentina a bagatela de 700 milhões de dólares - sete vezes mais do que o previsto. Da mesma, tirei as imagens abaixo, de protesto contra a realização da Copa em um país que vivia uma ditadura tão cruel - mesmo com a pressão internacional, a PIFA manteve a sede do Mundial.

No domingo passado, dia 29 de junho, foi realizado um jogo no Estádio Monumental de Nuñez - palco da decisão da Copa, em 25 de junho de 1978 - em memória dos 30 mil mortos e desaparecidos durante a ditadura, que durou de 1976 a 1983. O evento foi chamado "La otra final".

Much better is Duncan Hamilton's Provide You Don't Kiss Me which is fact based on fact. Reading that bought it all rushing back to me.  1978 when I first really got obsessed with football, the whole big wonderful show that it was. 

Weekday nights I would go into the front room were we kept out big Radiogram and listen to Radio 2 - European football, cup replays, First Divison games. I would dance around pretending I was kicking the ball, pretending I was playing. And it was all Nottingham Forest this team from nowhere, all the has-beens and never-was's Burns, Lloyd, Robertson Anderson, Shilton etc with the genius of Brian Clough steering it all. Champions of England. Champions of Europe. 1980 I remember the night they won it : went round my Nan's to watch it and it rained : a thunderstorm and Robertson and Clough turned over Keegan and Hamburg.

It's not like that anymore.  Football is dead. Just another thing to consume. No Romance anymore. No more Brian Clough. Just Sky Sports,  Corporate Clubs and Rio Ferdinand's great big grin blocking out the Sun forever.

p.s. Even the food Spam doesn't taste good.