Magazin-Scans und Interviews

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Dr.House
Taub
Taub
Beiträge: 28
Registriert: Mi 16. Feb 2011, 02:12
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Die NY Times Magazine bei Ebay mit Hugh Laurie.

http://tinyurl.com/3d42x5o

Also find ich jetzt ein wenig zu teuer mit Versand.Frage meinen Bruder ob er mir das besorgen kann denn der wohnt in Köln.Nähe Bahnhof.Mal sehen obs billiger geht. :D
coastspy
Cameron
Cameron
Beiträge: 242
Registriert: Do 20. Mai 2010, 23:57
Hat sich bedankt: 98 Mal
Danksagung erhalten: 68 Mal


GQ UK Magazine October 2011
Bild
Bild
Scan by @nataellio
Zuletzt geändert von coastspy am Do 8. Sep 2011, 21:48, insgesamt 1-mal geändert.
Tritziii
House
House
Beiträge: 2181
Registriert: Mo 21. Dez 2009, 12:37
Hat sich bedankt: 266 Mal
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:ohnmacht: Verdammt, wenn der so weiter macht, überleb ich diese Woche scht nicht mehr. 8o

DANKE Spy :kiss:

Ich frg micht gerade ob das das gelichen Fahrrad ist, mit dem er durch New Orleans gedüst ist
Hughligan
Chase
Chase
Beiträge: 303
Registriert: Mo 29. Mär 2010, 13:14
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... T-Shirt, trousers and shoes, Laurie's own :D :D :D
coastspy
Cameron
Cameron
Beiträge: 242
Registriert: Do 20. Mai 2010, 23:57
Hat sich bedankt: 98 Mal
Danksagung erhalten: 68 Mal


@Hughligan: Genau so habe ich auch reagiert. :D :D :D Der muss so oft Klamotten tragen, die nicht seine eigenen sind, da würde ich mich bei so einem Fotoshoot auch nicht in fremde Klamotten stecken lassen. GO HUGH!

@Tritzii: Nope, das ist es nicht. In New Orleans hatter doch so einen "Low Rider", oder wie man die Räder nennt. Ach ja, ... natürlich gern geschehen! Wenn ich was tolles finde dann denke ich doch immer erst an euch!
Zuletzt geändert von coastspy am Do 8. Sep 2011, 23:06, insgesamt 1-mal geändert.
coastspy
Cameron
Cameron
Beiträge: 242
Registriert: Do 20. Mai 2010, 23:57
Hat sich bedankt: 98 Mal
Danksagung erhalten: 68 Mal


Because he’s worth it...
Camilla Long

The Sunday Times
Published: 25 September 2011
Because he’s worth it...
Why is Hugh Laurie fronting a beauty campaign when he’s already one of the world’s highest-paid TV stars? We meet a reluctant superstar

Hugh Laurie is wearing someone else’s trousers. He’s wearing someone else’s shoes, too. He’s not entirely sure what he’s doing at the Savoy, in fact, trapped in a lilac and blue suite overlooking the River Thames. When he arrived off the plane from LA this morning, a bunch of women accosted him in the foyer and tasered him with espresso. They dragged him up here for a “briefing” — he looks mystified — then tore off all his clothes, covered him in hair gel and lipgloss, squeezed him into a tight pair of Acne jeans and made him pose for pictures.

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He is now unable to escape, his trousers “too tight” for any swift movement. The women — three lipstick pixies in body-con dresses and ballet pumps — are waiting in the bedroom next door, scattering cards and pots of L’Oréal Men Expert Vita Lift 5, the moisturiser he is here to discuss.

I mean, really, Is it hard being a model? What about being a checkout lady at Tesco and a mother? He inspects one of the products on the art-directed coffee table in front of us. He looks puzzled. They have briefed him about being a spokesmodel, haven’t they? “A spokesmodel?” he splutters. “Is that a real thing?” He mouths the word “spokesmodel” to himself. “You’ve made that up.”

Don’t think so. That’s what they call Beyoncé and Cheryl Cole. Admittedly, he makes a rather unusual spokesmodel, but they obviously wanted someone a bit different for this, a grumpy silver fox who moisturises, but only because his face is sandblasted from riding his motorbike, so the 13-page press release says. The products “fight the five signs of fatigue”. The roll-on eye gel “empowers the eye area”.

“Does it really?” he gasps. His voice is a walnutty baritone. Well, he uses them, doesn’t he? There’s a silence. I mouth, “Say yes.”

“Yes,” he says. “I mean,” he continues slowly, “what sort of a... ‘spokesmodel’ would I be otherwise?” Apparently, the creams have improved his looks no end. His eye area was, he says, “tragically, criminally underpowered” before Vita Lift 5. Complete strangers would stop him in the street “and say, what the hell’s going on with your eye area?” he explains. “It seems almost ‘powerless’.”

Apparently, though, people are fed up with perfection, fed up with models saying things such as, “Sometimes it’s hard being a model and a mother.” “I mean, really,” he says. “Is it hard being a model? What about a checkout lady at Tesco and a mother?” He pauses. “F*** off! Honestly.”

Laurie, of course, is not a model; he is a “real” man. He is funny, dry, likeable, comfortable with the intensity of his lashes. He is “flattered” that L’Oréal approached him, if slightly baffled. Doesn’t he feel a bit silly urging real men to “take action” with pro-retinol and ginseng, though? To wear eye gel and enjoy a “stimulating massage” from the applicator? To go a bit Shane Warne?

Actually, he is all for “taking pride in one’s looks”. He doesn’t say “Because I’m worth it” in the advertisements, but “There’s nothing wrong with self-confidence”. Philosophically, however, the catchphrase puzzles him. “The idea of placing a value on any human life is awfully tricky. I don’t know if I’m qualified to say how much I’m worth. Worth what? What’s the ‘it’? It’s a nameless ‘it’, deliberately, tantalisingly vague, which is...” Very French. He nods. “The average French geezer would know exactly what that meant.”

He makes a comically huge deal of his shortcomings, saying he is bad at everything, that he “worries too much”. Obviously he thinks the idea of him promoting a moisturiser is “surreal and absurd”. To be honest, I am not entirely sure why he is doing it, either. He doesn’t need the money: as the star of the American drama series House, he is rumoured to be paid £250,000 an episode. Nor does he need the profile. And I think it goes without saying that he can live without the products.

That leaves either pure vanity — he is an actor, after all — or an odd kind of personal crisis, in which he feels better prancing around with women in tight dresses, attending things like the GQ Men of the Year awards, a kind of happy-finish Olympics featuring Kelly Brook’s thong and nonachievement achievement awards for people such as Keith Richards.

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He is certainly vague on his motivations, mumbling that he is “not entirely sure” why he is doing it, but, you know, they asked him, and he was flattered. The resulting campaign is extraordinary, an airbrushed photoshoot that makes him look more like George Clooney than his normal basset hound, as well as an advertisement that features him wrapping his chops round a blonde half his age. What does his wife make of it?

He shrugs. “I honestly don’t know.” He has been married to Jo Green, a former theatre administrator, since 1989. They have three children, the eldest of whom is at university. Since he landed the role of Dr Gregory House, a limping, pill-popping Dr Frankenstein, in 2004, he has barely spent any time at home in north London.

There have always been rumours about the state of his relationship, ever since he had a short-lived affair with the director of one of his films about 15 years ago. Green is said to have written her a letter asking her to back off. She saved the marriage, but Laurie felt so guilty about his behaviour he had to go into therapy to recover. I am sure he must have thought long and hard about leaving his family to work in California — he recorded an audition tape on a whim in a hotel room in Namibia and never thought he would get the part — or maybe he didn’t.

Either way, he went. He now works nine months of the year in Los Angeles, and spends his summers back in London. He decided not to move his family out there, because he didn’t want to uproot them all if the show was to be cancelled or upset the younger children’s schooling, so he spends all his time off alone. A few years ago, he was photographed looking particularly mournful, sailing the world’s tiniest boat around the Marina del Rey.

Perhaps the oddest thing, however, is that he genuinely seems to hate fame. He is extremely uncomfortable in public, relentlessly harassed and asked for hugs. At one point, he took to wearing a crash helmet in the street to avoid detection. He has now stopped shopping entirely, with the result that all his underwear is “stolen”. He can't “buy pants when people are looking”. Does he miss being able to go out? “Yes, I do, very much,” he says.

There are perks, admittedly: two years ago, he was asked to be a grand marshal at a Nascar (stock-car racing) meet, “and they flew me back in a helicopter to Los Angeles on the day of the Oscars. For some extraordinary reason, we were allowed to fly over the red carpet. I felt as if I was actually looking down Penelope Cruz’s dress. For about five minutes, I thought, ‘F***me, this is amusing’”.

He also blagged a trip up Big Ben with Jools Holland and “a very splendid fellow who has the title of something like the Queen’s...” he gargles the word “horologist”. “He looks after 5,000 public clocks in Westminster, in libraries and offices and buildings, so his knowledge of clocks was absolutely enthralling.” He came back and “ordered six books on longcase clocks”. He pauses. “Do you know the principle of a pendulum?” He has the small talk of a dowager marchioness.

In fact, there is something quite Edwardian about Laurie altogether, a man born to play powdered tadpoles like Bertie Wooster. He uses words like “bedevils” and “chaps”, and was “enthralled” by Big Ben, “which is the bell, not the clock”. Before clocks, he was “obsessed with neurology”, books by Steven Pinker and David Eagleman.

He always insists he is not very clever, that he is “very much in the shadow of Stephen. Stephen Fry, that is. You may have heard of him. Though he’s not a ‘spokesmodel’”, except everyone knows that truly clever people always insist they are stupid. He met Fry, and Emma Thompson, at Cambridge, where he got a third in archeology and social anthropology. He dated Thompson, and became best friends with Fry.

He has superseded both of them now, although again he would never admit this. In fact, he seems almost professionally glum: when he recorded an album earlier this year, he chose the most depressing sort of music he could, the blues.

Let Them Talk has been a huge success, which came as a relief, because he didn’t want the label executives to get told off for hiring a “f***ing actor”, he hoots. “Like, ‘What were you thinking, you idiot?’”

About 15 years ago, he gave an interview in which he admitted to problems with depression. He had a famously strange relationship with his mother, a woman prone to mood swings, whom he thought he could never please, although later he found out he was the apple of her eye. He was a naughty child, tantrumy, difficult and given to hunger strikes. Arriving at Eton, he channelled all of this into sport. He got a rowing blue at Cambridge; his father, an Oxford GP, won an Olympic gold in the sport in 1948. He only discovered this when he found the medal in his father’s sock drawer.

Boasting was firmly frowned upon in the family: even today, when he carelessly admits to feeling “sprightly”, he quickly clarifies that does not mean he is actually feeling “positive, which is a whole other matter”. He is “superstitious” about feeling positive, because “complacency of any kind is punished by a vengeful God”. He once considered treating himself to a £16,000 custom-made motorbike, but ended up not buying it, because, as he then said, “Something in me says you shouldn’t have toys.”

Who made him feel like this? “Well,” he says. “I don’t ‘blame’ anybody for it. I’m…” He thinks. “Fifty-two. Or is it 53?” It’s 52. “Well, I took my driving test long ago. I’m responsible for my own nature. But I did grow up with this habit of clinging to doubt and uncertainty.”

He drains another espresso. In a minute, the women will whisk him off to a series of appointments, and then he will give a press conference about the products, for which he will probably be paid something in the region of £500,000. Honestly, how difficult can things be? “No, no, no,” he agrees. “I’m... fine.”

Hugh Laurie is L’Oréal’s new Men Expert Vita Lift 5 ambassador. Vita Lift 5 Complete Anti-Ageing Daily Moisturiser and Complete Anti-Ageing Eye Roll-On are available nationwide.
@Hugh_Hotness
Zuletzt geändert von coastspy am So 25. Sep 2011, 02:21, insgesamt 3-mal geändert.
Unique
House
House
Beiträge: 1418
Registriert: So 11. Jul 2010, 09:04
Hat sich bedankt: 297 Mal
Danksagung erhalten: 59 Mal


heilige scheiße, schlafmangel und DIESE fotos.... :ohnmacht:
six
House
House
Beiträge: 1717
Registriert: Di 26. Apr 2011, 07:18
Hat sich bedankt: 77 Mal
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Na Prima! Jetzt habe ich zu Kopf-, Hals- und Gliederschmerzen, Schnupfen und Husten auch noch Herzrasen! :D
mj1985
House
House
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Registriert: So 18. Okt 2009, 21:18
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The Sunday Times - Scan-Credit: @Hugh_Hotness

six
House
House
Beiträge: 1717
Registriert: Di 26. Apr 2011, 07:18
Hat sich bedankt: 77 Mal
Danksagung erhalten: 17 Mal


Danke für die kleinen Bilder! :thumbup1: Im Bilderthread ist mir mein Notebook gerade mal wieder abgestürzt. :(
LisaH
House
House
Beiträge: 1694
Registriert: So 4. Apr 2010, 12:34
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Achtung (kleiner) Spoiler zum Start von Season 8!
Hugh Laurie: happy now?
He has a huge salary, a musical career, and another sideline as a model… But only one of these makes the grizzled star of 'House' truly happy

‘How,” Hugh Laurie is asking, “do you feel about smoking?”

I’m happy for you to smoke, I tell him. Still he frets. “Are you really?”

Of course, I reply, not least because we’re sitting in his beautiful silver caravan on the 20th Century Fox lot, in Los Angeles. When you are, as is oft-reported, The Highest Paid Actor on American Television ($700,000 per episode is the figure usually trotted out), you can call the shots in all sorts of ways.

“OK, but I’m going to insist that you do too,” twinkles the man known to legions of fans as Dr Gregory House, medical wizard, grouchy sociopath and grizzled sexual catnip. Laurie reaches for his cigarettes. But just then, more very English collywobbles: “Are you sure about that?”

Finally, he lights up. Seven-and-a-bit seasons into the life of House, 52-year-old Laurie is at home here, sort of. Today the huge cast and crew are filming episode six of this 22-episode series, production on which began in September and won’t wrap until April next year. “We will have done about 180 shows by the end of this,” he sighs. “Which is ridiculous, really. Ridiculous.”

The season premieres in America three days after our meeting, and the wham-bam trailer is there every time you switch on the television. After driving his car into the front of the home of his boss/sexual-emotional nemesis, Dr House now finds himself in jail and on the receiving end of many prison beatings. “Yeah. Prison seems to sell, doesn’t it?” Laurie notes wryly. “It’s a very good script, a very good script,” he says again — Laurie has a habit of repeating phrases, as if to emphasise his point in the gentlest way possible. “But of course, it’s impossible to do any scene or have any imaginative thought about life in prison that isn’t coloured by 500 movies. I think we might have a bit of Shawshank Redemption in it somewhere,” he smiles.

When he read in the script that his character was heading to jail, did he worry that the long-running series may have lost the plot in an effort to keep the plot gripping? “Not really,” Laurie replies evenly. “Because I do have enormous faith in these writers. They’re very, very clever and tasteful people. And generally I think… not generally, this may be actually uniformly,” he qualifies.

Laurie, Cambridge alumnus and veteran of a thousand partnerships with noted wordsmiths such as Stephen Fry, Ben Elton and Richard Curtis, is a stickler for the proper use of language. “ Uniformly,” he continues, “it’s the case that it’s not what you do, it’s how you do it. There’s almost no such thing as a good idea or a bad idea. It’s all about the execution.” As befits the unlikely megastar that he has become, Laurie’s trailer is a considerable cut above the normal on-set accommodation for actors. It has fitted kitchen appliances, a separate bedroom, a spacious lounge. The dining area is cluttered with books, and a packet of Chocolate Digestives, and a copy of a new, French edition of The Gun Seller, Laurie’s 1996 novel.

He leaves for work from his Hollywood Hills home at 5.30 every morning. Even if you have a Triumph Bonneville motorbike or a cherry-red 1966 Galaxie 500 convertible, the work-hours in between his commute are long and arduous. Luckily, he has coffee. “We have a better chance of making the show without a camera than without coffee,” he continues. “I am a coffee fanatic. Once you go to Proper Coffee, you can’t go back. You cannot go back,” he repeats.

“What happens if you end up living back in England full-time?” wonders his PR, hovering in the doorway. Judging by those comments, rumours of House’s demise and Laurie’s return to Britain may not be exaggerated. “You’re going to have a nervous breakdown,” she adds.

Earlier this year the actor turned musician with the release of his debut album, the blues set Let Them Talk. An accomplished piano player with an appropriately gravelly singing voice, he was first turned onto the blues sometime around 1971. He and his brother — Laurie is the youngest of four — were in a car when a song came on the radio. “It’s all a bit hazy,” he told me. “He was driving. So unless we’d stolen the car and he was only 13, I’m thinking I must have been about 11 or 12. I think it was I Can’t Quit You Baby by Willie Dixon. I remember the car being blue; the blueness might have been significant, now I think about it.”

Laurie is in some sort of rhapsody on this warm but rainy LA afternoon because Let Them Talk, a heartfelt and brilliantly executed homage to the music he loves, has been a great success. Laurie launched it with a small concert in New Orleans in April, at which he played piano and guitar and was accompanied by a crack squad of local musicians — led by the legendary Allen Toussaint — and, on guest vocals, Irma Thomas and Sir Tom Jones. It went on to sell half a million copies, mostly outside America. Later today Laurie is promoting the American release with an appearance on The Jay Leno Show and a gig in an LA club.

It follows a handful of appearances in Britain, notably at the Cheltenham Jazz Festival, and will be succeeded by another clutch of British and European shows this month.

All of which gives him good reason to escape the all-consuming House set. “At the weekend the band and I had one day of rehearsing — we needed four but we had one,” he recounts. “And I was sitting there, listening to the guitarist and the horn player work out something they were going to do. And I just said — out loud — ‘is there anything better than this, really?’ And normally — well, I don’t normally say things like that because I don’t normally feel like that! But that was a moment of ‘phew’,” he exhales, searching for le mot juste. “Close to bliss I would say. Just making the music and being with musicians.” Laurie stops and catches himself. “Are you coming to the show tonight by the way? Yes? Well, I’d better not say any more. ’Cause I can’t deliver on all of this. I’m making it sound much more… ahem,” he coughs, tamping down any expectations.

Hugh Laurie is great company: pithy, funny, urbane, extravagantly knowledgeable about, oh, lots and lots. But there’s also a public perception that he’s a neurotic depressive who tools around LA in his fancy cars, hiding behind tinted windows and scared to visit the launderette.

It’s an image partly fostered by his admissions of stints in therapy, and by interviews in which he gave a very good impression of a man mortified by his extravagant wealth, haunted and hunted by his own celebrity.

For example: in the summer Laurie was presented as the new face of L’Oreal Vita Lift 5. It’s a skincare line. When he spoke to the press in support of the hookup with the cosmetics company, you could almost hear his jaw clench. Now, when I ask him why this fame-phobic multi-millionaire is shilling for unguents, his face creases (he’s not getting enough Lift from his Vita, clearly).

“It’s a tricky thing,” he says. “I know exactly why I’m doing it.” Pause. “What I didn’t know was whether I ought to be saying that I know why I’m doing it. They call you up and say, ‘do you want to do this thing?’ I say, ‘no, you’re out of your mind.’ Then they say a sum of money, and it’s huge. I mean, it’s verging on the wicked, really. But: for that money I could build a school in Sierra Leone. Once that thought enters your head, you cannot turn away from it.

“Because if you do, what you’re really saying is that my pose, the way I present myself, is more important than kids getting an education in Sierra Leone. Who could do that?” Laurie took the job. No, he’s not establishing an actor’s charity vanity project. Laurie is as aware as anyone of the “terrible kicking” meted out to Oprah Winfrey and Madonna for the capital projects associated with their humanitarian work. Having sought out advice from the experts at Comic Relief, he’s putting the money into a fund to be administered by the charity.

Back in London, Laurie’s daughter, 17, has just started an internship in marketing, and his sons, 20 and 22, are at Edinburgh and Bristol universities. He says his daughter is strong-willed, and given to viewing her parents “as beneath contempt. But she’s great as well.” And his sons? “They’re very bright and they work hard and all those things. But, they get depressed if Arsenal lose and they’re happy if Arsenal win! They get depressed if there’s no cheeseburger on the menu, and they’re happy if there is. Those things are big in their lives,” he says wistfully.

When I met him earlier this year, Laurie told me that, “there have been moments in the course of making House when it has been really f------ hard to stay sane. It’s been overwhelming, and there have been moments where I would have resorted to almost anything to make it stop.” Now, this confession may have had much to do with Laurie’s punishing workload, as well as the domestic upheaval occasioned by House’s filming schedule: his family stayed in London when he shipped out to LA; his wife joins him two weeks out of every four. Little wonder he was lonely and stressed. But still, he sounded like a man on the edge. “Did I say that?” he asks, aghast, when I read that quote back to him. I nod.

“Did I really say that? Well, this is quite interesting. I wouldn’t say that now. And that, I believe, is a result of making music. It’s partly the physical sensation of doing it, and it’s also the companionship of musicians.” Acting is a strangely solitary profession. Even if you have been making a top-rated drama for seven years, you still spend a lot of time on your own. But now, finally, Laurie has the camaraderie of a group. And perhaps, I suggest, he’s been crying out for that?

“Maybe, yeah,” he nods. “It’s wonderful. That’s been a real blessing. I feel very, very lucky.” Thus, while he concedes that the portrait of him as a curmudgeonly, gazillionaire Englishman in LA is an easy one to paint, it’s not the whole story. Music, he affirms, has brought him contentment.

“That may be also,” he adds, “the feeling that wherever we are in the life of this show, we’re on the back nine.” He pauses with a Wooster-ish wince. “I just used a golfing term.” So will he be drinking in the 19th hole soon?

“Well, exactly,” Laurie grunts. “Whatever we’re doing now on the show, we’re doing it for its own satisfaction. I don’t feel like we’re struggling to prove ourselves to executives or critics. Not to be complacent about it, but I think we’ve moved beyond that stage and we’re now in the last year maybe, or the end bit.” So, he says, while there has been no final decision on whether this is the last season of House, it’s looking that way. The writers and the key cast are not contracted beyond the end of the season. But he won’t be drawn on his own plans after next April, when filming ends.

Does he have ambitions to make more films? He’s the voice of Santa’s eldest son in Aardman’s new animation Arthur Christmas, his ensemble film The Oranges recently premiered at the Toronto Film Festival, and he shot the lead in Mr Pip (based on Lloyd Jones’s bestseller) in the summer. Will he come back to Britain?

Laurie can’t, won’t, give specifics on any future plans. Save that of course, he’d love to do more music.

“To be honest I don’t really have ambitions in an annual calendar, ‘August, invade Poland’ kind of way. My ambition is really about the next scene and the next story, and how am I going to do that? If I ever feel, ‘I think I got that right, I think I hit that in the middle of the bat,’ then yes, I do get real satisfaction from that.” And yes, he just used a cricketing term.

A few hours later, Hugh Laurie, all gangly limbs and crumpled suit, angles himself onto the small stage of The Mint. It’s his first concert in America, and judging by the screams, the lucky cadre of House fanatics who’ve scored tickets can scarcely believe their luck (or, for some, his accent — “what, he’s English? And posh?”).

Earlier, back in his trailer, Laurie and I had discussed the Dilettante Question. I described how Elvis Costello is enraged whenever anyone questions him about going off-piste and working outside his proven field — an opera here, a classical work there. Costello sees a man indulging his passion and enthusiasms; a fair few other people see someone mucking about in an area in which he’s woefully underqualified. Hugh Laurie, Mr Reasonable to the end, sees it both ways.

“Don’t tell Elvis Costello, but I do understand that. I think when people decide that they’re going to engage with an artist’s work of any kind, whether it’s painting or ballet or whatever, they’re entitled to expect some commitment. I mean if, for example, you were about to go under the knife and the surgeon let slip, ‘oh, I don’t do this full time, I have an accountancy business, that’s what really pays my bills — but I just love working with appendices’ — you would go, ‘hang on a minute, can I have a full-time person please? Someone who’s committed to this?’

“Not to say that commitment makes good art and dil-ett-ant-ism,” he says, carefully rapping out the syllables, “makes bad art. But I can understand why people take it as a sort of baseline — ‘if I’m going to commit to listening, I want to know the bloke’s committed to playing.’ But from my side of it, what can I do? I can’t get around the fact that I have been an actor and I’m only in the position to be able to make a record because I’ve been an actor. I can’t un-be an actor now. I can’t go back and restructure my musical commitment.” So, while Laurie will admit to a sneaking sympathy for the dil-ett-ant-ist argument, he offers a reasonable get-out clause for all concerned.

“I was listening to [the blues musician] Skip James last night, for example. There’s an awful lot of Skip James out there — people should go and listen to that instead. ’Cause that’s the real thing.”
Quelle: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/tvan ... y-now.html
six
House
House
Beiträge: 1717
Registriert: Di 26. Apr 2011, 07:18
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Hmm...Die riesen Seite ließ sich nicht auf einmal scannen. Irgendwie habe ich die Seiten nicht gedreht bekommen. :roll:

Wer durchgängig lesen will, sollte erst das 4., dann das 2., dann das 3. und zuletzt das 1. lesen. Oh man...da muss ich mich noch einmal mit beschäftigen! :hmw:
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Zuletzt geändert von six am Mi 27. Jun 2012, 22:24, insgesamt 1-mal geändert.
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