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>>>.....Citizen Cope.....>>>. Группа хорошей и качественной музыки
на вкус
Something is great about this one. The phrase buzzed around in my head, mixing with the endorphins that cracked and snapped about their different relays, telling me that I liked this music. This music is good. The beer in your hand is good.* You are loving this, aren't you? Aren't you?
Singer/Song Writer, Citizen Cope recently headlined in Towson's Recher Theatre, a large dimly lit room washed in blood red drapes. Two bars, bouncers at the door who think they're funny, an entrance covered in music posters: enough ambiance to make you dream of owning rooms filled with nothing but silk pillows and feathery boas. Brilliance -- all of it.
His music is simple to the point of being stripped down, as if bearing it all was the only way to get our attention. The Spartan band behind him was made up of a drummer, a bassist, two keyboardists, and Cope on guitar. A mix of hip-hop, folk, and blues his songs are mostly beats - mix bass drum, high hat, snare, clap track and repeat - buffed smooth by a haggard, road-weary voice. Uncommon chords for texture and keyboards for lift.
I was there in the middle of a crowd that hung on Mr. Cope's every word. You have probably been in a situation like this one before. If you have seen a favorite artist live, you know the procedure. Stand elbow to elbow with lovers in varied states of decay - high school to golden years - and you reach clumsily into your bag of lyrics, struggling to throw them out in time with everybody else. Nevertheless, you dance, sway back and forth and put your chin to your chest to feel that beat and buzz in your rib cage. Somebody screams, You're melting my face! Artist finishes up a song and you try to guess what's coming next. You are loving this, aren't you?
But even as I enjoyed myself like everyone else, the experience unsettled me. Cope is an intensely powerful lyricist. Without useless contemplation or pretension, you sense a plain type of grief laced in his words. A grief at once deeply personal, but one that managed to untether me from the scene, causing me to think about what I was listening to. His song topics range from a laundry list of tragedy in Let the Drummer Kick That to exploration of danger of American jingoism in Bullet and a Target. One of my favorites, his song Penitentiary taps into fears for a culture growing more trapped by fear and war: Well I'm waiting on a time when people walk free to see/From the penitentiary in our mind/When there's no need to bleed/For your father/Or your son.
One Rolling Stone critic called him a modern day bluesman who paints a plaintive portrait of the human condition. Another, not-so-friendly critic from music and culture website, SoundtheSirens said: I'm sure there's some soulful guy with a guitar who can write better songs sitting in some coffee shop somewhere who deserves the exposure more than he does. This may be warranted, I just happen to disagree.
As a balding-twenty-something tapped his toe to the beat of Sideways against my heal, I was reminded of a perplexing moment a few months prior. I had created a Citizen Cope station on an Internet radio website called Pandora. If you have not used Pandora before, its program takes an artist that you give it and plays the music of similar artists based on style and genre.Normally, Pandora is right on, accurate as anyone could hope for. But the artists that Pandora surrounded Cope with -- Damien Rice, Jack Johnson, Ryan Adams, Howie Day, Beck -- sound nothing like him, perhaps Beck being the closest. I won't say that no one sounds like Citizen Cope -- that cannot be justified. However, one has serious trouble placing him in any sort of context. This frustrates me, because I need musical landmarks,

>>>.....Citizen Cope.....>>>

Группа |{лана NeXt-GeN.

Группа |{лана NeXt-GeN

Next-Gen Бесплатны Буст ММР DOTA 2. Бесплатны буст ммр

Next-Gen Бесплатны Буст ММР DOTA 2

Principality of Sealand. During the Second World War, the British government built several Fortress islands in the North Sea to defend its coasts from German invaders. Some of these forts were built illegally in international waters.
One of these illegal Fortresses, consisting of concrete and steel construction, was the famous Fort Roughs Tower, situated slightly north of the estuary region of the River Thames, on the east coast of the United Kingdom. In contrast to the original plan to locate the tower within the sovereign territory of the UK, this fortress was situated at a distance of approximately 7 nautical miles from the coast. This is more than double the then applicable 3 mile range of territorial waters. To put it briefly, this island was situated in the international waters of the North Sea.
The forts were abandoned in the early 1950’s and, due to their illegal construction in international waters in a time of world crisis, they should have been destroyed, to comply with international law. Except for the aforementioned fortress, similarly located fortresses were subsequently pulled down. The result of this was the portentous uniqueness of the fortress. Fort Roughs Tower, situated on the high seas, had been deserted and abandoned, res derelicta and terra nullius. From a legal point of view, it therefore constituted extra-national territory.
In the early 60’s, Roy Bates, a Major in the British army, established a radio station, situated offshore on an abandoned ex naval fort named “Knock John”. The theory behind this location was an attempt to bypass the draconian broadcasting restrictions of the time, which permitted little more than formal broadcasting by the BBC. Roy’s station, “Radio Essex”, and others like it, were known affectionately by the media as “Pirate” radio stations, and were much loved by the British public, as they supplied everything that the BBC did not at the time, Pop music and amusing presenters.
In the years than ensued, Roy fought an unsuccessful legal battle with the UK government, which questioned the legality of his occupation of said fort. It was ruled that “Knock John” fell under UK jurisdiction. Smarting from his setback, Roy weighed his options. Another abandoned fortress, Roughs Tower, identical in construction to the Knock John existed further offshore, and crucially, outside of the three mile limit to which the UK jurisdiction extended. Roy proceeded to occupy Roughs Tower, on Christmas eve 1966, with the intention of revitalising his dormant radio station. This was until he conjured a different plan entirely. After consulting his lawyers, Roy decided to declare this fortress island the independent state of “Sealand”, Claiming “Jus Gentium” (“Law of Nations”) over a part of the globe that was “Terra Nullius” (Nobody’s Land).
On the 2nd of September 1967, accompanied by his wife Joan on her birthday, his son Michael (14), daughter Penelope (16) and several friends and followers, Roy declared the Principality of Sealand. The founding of this country was marked by the raising a newly designed flag, and in an extremely romantic birthday gesture, the bestowing of a new title on his beloved wife, to be know from that moment on as “Princess Joan”.
It was not long before the British Government decided they could not have what ministers described as a possible “Cuba off the east coast of England”. The military were promptly dispatched to destroy all other remaining forts located in international waters. The Bates family looked on as huge explosions sent the massive structures hurtling hundreds of feet in the air and twisted and buckled debris floated past Sealand for days.
Helicopters that had carried the explosives buzzed menacingly above, and the navy tug carrying the demolition crew passed close by our fortress home and shouted “You’re next!” with an angry waving of arms. A while later a government vessel steamed to within fifty feet of Sealand, its boisterous crew

Principality of Sealand

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Ролевая ~Winx Next Gen~