Kann mir jm. aus dem ersten Bild ne Destop Hintergrund gestalten ?
Beiträge: 1418
Registriert: So 11. Jul 2010, 09:04
Lieblingscharakter: HOUSE WILSON CUDDY
Shipper: HUDDY HILSON
Lieblingsepisode/n: 4x05- 5x09 - 5x23/24 - 6x01/02 - 6x22 - 7x22
Fox-Gucker: Ja
Wohnort: Berlin
Beiträge: 2102
Registriert: So 25. Okt 2009, 10:15
Lieblingscharakter: House, Wilson
Shipper: Hilson
Fox-Gucker: Nein
Wohnort: Berlin
HUDDY23 hat geschrieben:Unique hat geschrieben:diiitoooooooooooo
Ohhhh jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Beiträge: 7359
Registriert: So 18. Okt 2009, 21:18
Lieblingscharakter: House
Shipper: Huddy, Hilson, Hacy
Lieblingsepisode/n: 5x24, 6x01, 6x22, 7x03
Fox-Gucker: Ja
Wohnort: Lübeck
Sunday Times - A serious case of Blues
In the roofed-in courtyard of the old Louisiana State Bank Building, in New Orleans’s French Quarter, a rehearsal is about to take place. Sundry players sit cradling their instruments — a fiddle, a Dobro guitar, an upright bass, a trumpet, a trombone and a tenor sax — while, off to the side of the main action, three music veterans wait for proceedings to begin. Irma Thomas, the “soul queen of New Orleans”, sits with suitably regal poise. To her right, Tom Jones grapples noisily with a packet of throat lozenges. “We met in Manchester, England,” Thomas reminds Jones in her smoky drawl, “in 1966.” A pause. “I guess it shows we’ve still got something going on.” Above the two singers, resplendent in a powder-blue suit and matching pink floral shirt and tie, hovers Allen Toussaint, piano-player, composer, arranger, producer and all-round Big Easy musical linchpin, self-assured and commanding respect. Centre stage is a Steinway grand, at which, at some point this evening, a live performance of Let Them Talk, a new album by a famous British actor, is due to receive its dress rehearsal.
And here, at last, advancing tentatively towards the piano, his 6ft 3in frame rendering his attempts at furtiveness utterly futile, comes the man all these musicians have assembled for. You can almost see the knots of tension forming in his shoulders. Before a note has even sounded, Hugh Laurie is emitting his own signals (or distress calls), and they’re loud ones. “Sorry”, they say; and “I would rather be anywhere but here”; and “Please be kind”. Tomorrow night, he has a launch gig to get through. What will his demeanour be communicating then?
Laurie has form here, however. Before finding international fame as the grouchy diagnostician in the long-running American television series House, he had built his career on a succession of comic roles whose combination of buffoonish naivety and galumphing maladroitness made him a sort of misfits’ pin-up. When he absolutely had to, Laurie would sit down for an interview, and these followed a pattern: intense unease, quasi-psychiatric verbal tail-chasing, endless qualifiers and subclauses, constant apology — as if, by getting the exculpation in pre-emptively, he’d stand a better chance of being let off the hook, or of fooling us. You sort of want to throttle him when he does this, but you also feel inclined to give him a hug.
Making an album of blues standards and rarities, which Laurie did last year in New Orleans, provides the 51-year-old with an opportunity for a truly mega outbreak of his standard shtick. And there are indeed moments in our encounter where the old habits assert themselves (as does the desire to administer a sharp slap). “Layers of self-effacement,” his wife, Jo, had called them, standing outside the venue sneaking a quick cig in the balmy New Orleans heat.
Her husband, edging his way towards candour and ease the day after the launch concert, sighs when he hears this. “That’s completely right, completely right,” he agrees. “The funny thing is, of course, there’s a very different expectation, depending on whether there are English people involved or not. Americans are not big apologisers, not because they are not polite — they are extremely polite, much more than we are — but because they don’t see the point of apologising unnecessarily, they don’t get that whole ‘Oh, pardon me, excuse me for living’ thing; the wretched, endless English self-effacement, which arguably only conceals a different kind of arrogance, or conceit.”
He’s trying his best, he says. “The strange, wary dance of apology and not trespassing on someone’s space, which carries underneath it a sort of ‘Who do you think you are?’ — it’s a complex brew. But the only way to go is to just give up the apologising altogether, I think. Apart from anything else, I’ve done it for 50 years, and I’m sort of tired of it.”
Asked if, in order to make Let Them Talk, he had to stop asking himself “Why?” and instead say “Why not?”, Laurie manages to give his shtick the slip. “Why Not? is one possible alternative title for this album,” he chuckles, “and I do wish I’d thought of that. But F*** It is another one. Just f*** it, really.” He was able to make the album, he says, because he managed to resist celebrity culture’s imposition of narrow definitions; and because, more important, the blues send shivers up his spine. The whole 24/7 media-go-round occurs, he argues, “under the banner of ‘We live in this wonderful free age where we all have access to everything, and we can all express ourselves’. Bollocks. We’re being watched, we’re being monitored, we’re being anticipated and manipulated and potted up — in ways that we probably weren’t”.
It is clear he’s talking about society at large, but it is impossible to escape the impression that Laurie may also be describing his own life. “I was at a record shop yesterday,” he continues, “and they had that wonderful photograph of Robert Johnson [whose song They’re Red Hot Laurie covers on Let Them Talk], where he looks like he’s in a photo booth, and he has a cigarette at a particularly jaunty angle. I don’t think it’s lit, but he looks very dashing. And, when they put him on a US postage stamp, they removed the cigarette. What business have they to go altering that? What if his nose had been too big? Or he’d been cross-eyed? You know, ‘Oh, it’s so great, Robert Johnson has taken his rightful place in American culture.’ Well, yes — on your terms. You’ve admitted him, labelled him, adjusted his image so it suits you.
“I mean, I know that smoking is a trivial example, but it’s indicative of something much more profound, which is that we examine, we judge, we define, and you will only pass if we have been through your rubbish bins and your entrails, and have decided that, yes, we’ll let you through on these terms — otherwise we’re not having anything to do with you.”
Again, there is that sense of Laurie addressing his own situation. And, lo and behold, the pre-emptiveness makes another appearance. He sings the entire album — which includes songs by blues greats such as Jelly Roll Morton, Lead Belly, Professor Longhair and James Booker — in an American accent, the one he long ago perfected as Gregory House (although, confusingly, you also detect on the album an adenoidal clagginess that cannot help but conjure up the Prince Regent in Blackadder).
Clearly, Laurie is anticipating trouble for this. “There is a musicality to words,” he ventures. “They are instruments, in a way. They are notes, and there is a particular way of sounding a note where sometimes, like it or not, in this particular idiom, to sing a sort of defiantly English version is as jagged and as musically wrong as playing a wrong note. You’d just be hitting the wrong note by saying ‘chance’ instead of ‘chairnce’. Sometimes that just catches the ear in a way it just oughtn’t to catch it, when that moment should just go by.”
Laurie sings the entire album in an American accent, one he perfected long ago when playing Gregory House
He is anxious, too, about the reaction Let Them Talk may receive. Artistically, he needn’t be: overseen expertly and lovingly by the American musician and producer Joe Henry (Toussaint, Elvis Costello, Solomon Burke et al), the album is a moving and convincing testament to what Laurie describes as his first love — born when, on a drive in his older brother’s car, he heard a Willie Dixon song and there was “that feeling of the hairs on the back of my neck going up, which still happens to this day; a sort of visceral, physical response to this sound”.
Toussaint’s horn arrangements, Dr John’s piano contributions, Thomas and Jones’s vocals, all act to cajole Laurie out of his shell. A skilled blues pianist for years, he also sings and plays guitar on the album.
Both on disc and in performance, he seems liberated. “Oh God, yes,” he agrees. “When starting this thing, I knew the expectation would be that I would try to hide; that I would surround myself with brilliant players, which I’ve done, and hide, strum a thing that isn’t plugged in, sing through a Vocoder, and someone will put it in tune. And I just thought, ‘I’m damned if I’m going to do that.’”
The overture to the opening track, St James Infirmary, features Laurie alone at the piano, working in the theme of the song, in his own arrangement, via traces of old hymns and Chopinesque touches. It is an exposed but virtuoso passage, with not a hint of apology. “I thought, I’m going to appear naked. And I want to take my clothes off at the very first moment, on the very first track — to get that over with.”
Realistically, however, Laurie may have reason to fear the public’s reaction — although the 20m House fans on the series’ Facebook page must seem like a tantalising market, never mind the fact that Laurie is such a huge and bankable name, you could probably plaster him on a cereal bar and get a decent return. (Shortly after the interview has concluded, one of his “people” rushes up and gushes that the announcement about the album is “out-trending Liz Taylor’s death on Twitter”.)
He understands, he says, why some people may resist the idea of him making a record. “And I’m ready for that. But, then again, it’s a record — I’m not holding a gun to anybody's head. I can absolutely understand a struggling songwriter somewhere going, ‘Oh, for f***’s sake, now the labels are putting all their money into an already famous person, to save themselves the work of developing an artist.’ If that’s really the way it works — but I’m not sure it is, or that I really am taking bread from somebody else’s mouth. If I am, I apologise.” Oh, stop it.
Laurie confesses that he has never bought an album by either the Beatles or David Bowie, that he didn’t listen to punk at school, as all his contemporaries did. There is something slightly desolate about that picture, which Laurie alludes to earlier in the day when he is asked about this at a press conference, saying: “Maybe I was an old soul, and I might even have been, for that reason, a slightly lonely soul, because I didn’t have that communal, that tribal thing of sharing with people. Why is that? Do you know, I’ve never even looked into it. Now you’ve raised it, obviously, that’s another £20,000 worth of psychotherapy. Thanks.”
The night before, back at the old State Bank, 70 people, together with camera crews, sound men, fixers, helpmeets, agents and musicians, provided the tribal gathering Laurie lacked all those years ago. Tom Jones fluffs his lines on Baby Please Make a Change, substituting cheese for please, and the venue erupts. As Laurie zips into Tipitina, his back untightens and his playing becomes looser, more joyous, more ablaze. The born apologist is emitting signals again, and this time they’re saying “I’m not sorry”, and “I’m free”, and even “I’m home”.
Let Them Talk is released on Warner Music on May 9; Hugh Laurie closes the Cheltenham Jazz Festival on May 2
PDF-Download: Hugh Laurie - Sunday Times Culture Article
st_culture_1.JPG (69.32 KiB) 12273 mal betrachtet
st_culture_2.JPG (56.36 KiB) 12273 mal betrachtet
And here, at last, advancing tentatively towards the piano, his 6ft 3in frame rendering his attempts at furtiveness utterly futile, comes the man all these musicians have assembled for. You can almost see the knots of tension forming in his shoulders. Before a note has even sounded, Hugh Laurie is emitting his own signals (or distress calls), and they’re loud ones. “Sorry”, they say; and “I would rather be anywhere but here”; and “Please be kind”. Tomorrow night, he has a launch gig to get through. What will his demeanour be communicating then?
Laurie has form here, however. Before finding international fame as the grouchy diagnostician in the long-running American television series House, he had built his career on a succession of comic roles whose combination of buffoonish naivety and galumphing maladroitness made him a sort of misfits’ pin-up. When he absolutely had to, Laurie would sit down for an interview, and these followed a pattern: intense unease, quasi-psychiatric verbal tail-chasing, endless qualifiers and subclauses, constant apology — as if, by getting the exculpation in pre-emptively, he’d stand a better chance of being let off the hook, or of fooling us. You sort of want to throttle him when he does this, but you also feel inclined to give him a hug.
Making an album of blues standards and rarities, which Laurie did last year in New Orleans, provides the 51-year-old with an opportunity for a truly mega outbreak of his standard shtick. And there are indeed moments in our encounter where the old habits assert themselves (as does the desire to administer a sharp slap). “Layers of self-effacement,” his wife, Jo, had called them, standing outside the venue sneaking a quick cig in the balmy New Orleans heat.
Her husband, edging his way towards candour and ease the day after the launch concert, sighs when he hears this. “That’s completely right, completely right,” he agrees. “The funny thing is, of course, there’s a very different expectation, depending on whether there are English people involved or not. Americans are not big apologisers, not because they are not polite — they are extremely polite, much more than we are — but because they don’t see the point of apologising unnecessarily, they don’t get that whole ‘Oh, pardon me, excuse me for living’ thing; the wretched, endless English self-effacement, which arguably only conceals a different kind of arrogance, or conceit.”
He’s trying his best, he says. “The strange, wary dance of apology and not trespassing on someone’s space, which carries underneath it a sort of ‘Who do you think you are?’ — it’s a complex brew. But the only way to go is to just give up the apologising altogether, I think. Apart from anything else, I’ve done it for 50 years, and I’m sort of tired of it.”
Asked if, in order to make Let Them Talk, he had to stop asking himself “Why?” and instead say “Why not?”, Laurie manages to give his shtick the slip. “Why Not? is one possible alternative title for this album,” he chuckles, “and I do wish I’d thought of that. But F*** It is another one. Just f*** it, really.” He was able to make the album, he says, because he managed to resist celebrity culture’s imposition of narrow definitions; and because, more important, the blues send shivers up his spine. The whole 24/7 media-go-round occurs, he argues, “under the banner of ‘We live in this wonderful free age where we all have access to everything, and we can all express ourselves’. Bollocks. We’re being watched, we’re being monitored, we’re being anticipated and manipulated and potted up — in ways that we probably weren’t”.
It is clear he’s talking about society at large, but it is impossible to escape the impression that Laurie may also be describing his own life. “I was at a record shop yesterday,” he continues, “and they had that wonderful photograph of Robert Johnson [whose song They’re Red Hot Laurie covers on Let Them Talk], where he looks like he’s in a photo booth, and he has a cigarette at a particularly jaunty angle. I don’t think it’s lit, but he looks very dashing. And, when they put him on a US postage stamp, they removed the cigarette. What business have they to go altering that? What if his nose had been too big? Or he’d been cross-eyed? You know, ‘Oh, it’s so great, Robert Johnson has taken his rightful place in American culture.’ Well, yes — on your terms. You’ve admitted him, labelled him, adjusted his image so it suits you.
“I mean, I know that smoking is a trivial example, but it’s indicative of something much more profound, which is that we examine, we judge, we define, and you will only pass if we have been through your rubbish bins and your entrails, and have decided that, yes, we’ll let you through on these terms — otherwise we’re not having anything to do with you.”
Again, there is that sense of Laurie addressing his own situation. And, lo and behold, the pre-emptiveness makes another appearance. He sings the entire album — which includes songs by blues greats such as Jelly Roll Morton, Lead Belly, Professor Longhair and James Booker — in an American accent, the one he long ago perfected as Gregory House (although, confusingly, you also detect on the album an adenoidal clagginess that cannot help but conjure up the Prince Regent in Blackadder).
Clearly, Laurie is anticipating trouble for this. “There is a musicality to words,” he ventures. “They are instruments, in a way. They are notes, and there is a particular way of sounding a note where sometimes, like it or not, in this particular idiom, to sing a sort of defiantly English version is as jagged and as musically wrong as playing a wrong note. You’d just be hitting the wrong note by saying ‘chance’ instead of ‘chairnce’. Sometimes that just catches the ear in a way it just oughtn’t to catch it, when that moment should just go by.”
Laurie sings the entire album in an American accent, one he perfected long ago when playing Gregory House
He is anxious, too, about the reaction Let Them Talk may receive. Artistically, he needn’t be: overseen expertly and lovingly by the American musician and producer Joe Henry (Toussaint, Elvis Costello, Solomon Burke et al), the album is a moving and convincing testament to what Laurie describes as his first love — born when, on a drive in his older brother’s car, he heard a Willie Dixon song and there was “that feeling of the hairs on the back of my neck going up, which still happens to this day; a sort of visceral, physical response to this sound”.
Toussaint’s horn arrangements, Dr John’s piano contributions, Thomas and Jones’s vocals, all act to cajole Laurie out of his shell. A skilled blues pianist for years, he also sings and plays guitar on the album.
Both on disc and in performance, he seems liberated. “Oh God, yes,” he agrees. “When starting this thing, I knew the expectation would be that I would try to hide; that I would surround myself with brilliant players, which I’ve done, and hide, strum a thing that isn’t plugged in, sing through a Vocoder, and someone will put it in tune. And I just thought, ‘I’m damned if I’m going to do that.’”
The overture to the opening track, St James Infirmary, features Laurie alone at the piano, working in the theme of the song, in his own arrangement, via traces of old hymns and Chopinesque touches. It is an exposed but virtuoso passage, with not a hint of apology. “I thought, I’m going to appear naked. And I want to take my clothes off at the very first moment, on the very first track — to get that over with.”
Realistically, however, Laurie may have reason to fear the public’s reaction — although the 20m House fans on the series’ Facebook page must seem like a tantalising market, never mind the fact that Laurie is such a huge and bankable name, you could probably plaster him on a cereal bar and get a decent return. (Shortly after the interview has concluded, one of his “people” rushes up and gushes that the announcement about the album is “out-trending Liz Taylor’s death on Twitter”.)
He understands, he says, why some people may resist the idea of him making a record. “And I’m ready for that. But, then again, it’s a record — I’m not holding a gun to anybody's head. I can absolutely understand a struggling songwriter somewhere going, ‘Oh, for f***’s sake, now the labels are putting all their money into an already famous person, to save themselves the work of developing an artist.’ If that’s really the way it works — but I’m not sure it is, or that I really am taking bread from somebody else’s mouth. If I am, I apologise.” Oh, stop it.
Laurie confesses that he has never bought an album by either the Beatles or David Bowie, that he didn’t listen to punk at school, as all his contemporaries did. There is something slightly desolate about that picture, which Laurie alludes to earlier in the day when he is asked about this at a press conference, saying: “Maybe I was an old soul, and I might even have been, for that reason, a slightly lonely soul, because I didn’t have that communal, that tribal thing of sharing with people. Why is that? Do you know, I’ve never even looked into it. Now you’ve raised it, obviously, that’s another £20,000 worth of psychotherapy. Thanks.”
The night before, back at the old State Bank, 70 people, together with camera crews, sound men, fixers, helpmeets, agents and musicians, provided the tribal gathering Laurie lacked all those years ago. Tom Jones fluffs his lines on Baby Please Make a Change, substituting cheese for please, and the venue erupts. As Laurie zips into Tipitina, his back untightens and his playing becomes looser, more joyous, more ablaze. The born apologist is emitting signals again, and this time they’re saying “I’m not sorry”, and “I’m free”, and even “I’m home”.
Let Them Talk is released on Warner Music on May 9; Hugh Laurie closes the Cheltenham Jazz Festival on May 2
PDF-Download: Hugh Laurie - Sunday Times Culture Article
Zuletzt geändert von mj1985 am So 10. Apr 2011, 15:02, insgesamt 2-mal geändert.
Beiträge: 242
Registriert: Do 20. Mai 2010, 23:57
Lieblingscharakter: Dr. Gregory House
Shipper: Huddy
Fox-Gucker: Ja
Wohnort: Kiel
Der "Guitar Aficionado" Artikel:
Scan-Credit: ?
Scan-Credit: ?
Zuletzt geändert von coastspy am So 17. Apr 2011, 17:17, insgesamt 1-mal geändert.
After Monday and Tuesday, even the calendar says WTF!!!
Beiträge: 2182
Registriert: Mo 21. Dez 2009, 12:37
Lieblingscharakter: Greg 8o
Shipper: Hall-y
Lieblingsepisode/n: 1x11, 1x21, 3x1, 3x4
Fox-Gucker: Ja
Wohnort: Wittichenau
Nach dreimaligem nachfregen hat der Verkäufer das Heft nun endlich 
eingestellt (4 sind noch da) 
http://cgi.ebay.de/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?Vie ... K:MEWNX:IT So schnell hab ich bei eBay glaub ich noch nie auf den "Sofortkaufen" Button gedrückt
eingestellt (4 sind noch da) http://cgi.ebay.de/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?Vie ... K:MEWNX:IT So schnell hab ich bei eBay glaub ich noch nie auf den "Sofortkaufen" Button gedrückt
Zuletzt geändert von Tritziii am Mo 18. Apr 2011, 15:47, insgesamt 1-mal geändert.
OMfG He really touched my finger and asked me a question
Oh my... I REALLY was able to snatch HIS beer glass. The one, of which he drank.
Beiträge: 7359
Registriert: So 18. Okt 2009, 21:18
Lieblingscharakter: House
Shipper: Huddy, Hilson, Hacy
Lieblingsepisode/n: 5x24, 6x01, 6x22, 7x03
Fox-Gucker: Ja
Wohnort: Lübeck
Tritziii hat geschrieben:Nach dreimaligem nachfregen hat der Verkäufer das Heft nun endlich
http://cgi.ebay.de/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?Vie ... K:MEWNX:IT So schnell hab ich bei eBay glaub ich noch nie auf den "Sofortkaufen" Button gedrückt
Ich hab gerade das letzte Heft gekauft
Beiträge: 2102
Registriert: So 25. Okt 2009, 10:15
Lieblingscharakter: House, Wilson
Shipper: Hilson
Fox-Gucker: Nein
Wohnort: Berlin
Beiträge: 1694
Registriert: So 4. Apr 2010, 12:34
Lieblingscharakter: House
Shipper: Huddy, Hacy
Lieblingsepisode/n: 1x21, 5x04, 5x23, 6x22, 7x02
Fox-Gucker: Ja
Wohnort: NRW
Na super, hättet ihr Drei zusammen bestellt, hätte es eine Gratis-Ausgabe für MICH dazu gegeben
Achtung Achtung lieber Kunde:
Bei folgendem Bestellwert (gerechnet ohne Porto) werden von uns Gratis-Magazine der Bestellung beigelegt. Ein Wunsch der Gratiszugabe ist aber nicht möglich.
Bestellwert von 30,- € = 1 Gratis Magazin
Bestellwert von 50,- € = 2 Gratis Magazine
Bestellwert von 100,- € = 3 Gratis Magazine
Beiträge: 2102
Registriert: So 25. Okt 2009, 10:15
Lieblingscharakter: House, Wilson
Shipper: Hilson
Fox-Gucker: Nein
Wohnort: Berlin
