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Post by justjohn on Sept 4, 2010 7:10:37 GMT -7
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Post by karl on Sept 4, 2010 8:39:58 GMT -7
J.J.
You are so incredible! The Biesiada mix, is so typical of Polka,,the music is always happy and for a bit of time, to chase out the blues that prevail so often in times of stress...
I see also of some Roma musical groupen. It would so seem these people are so international with such survival instincts. Rather they are in Spain, Poland, Romania, Europe as elsewhere.
Their instincts of survival and intense training from childhood through the life cycle into advanced age, is not of them to worry. Well,,with exception of earning a living through work...
As an exchange, of music exchange, is for your self in honour of your presentation...
The Roma live a very precarious life, they are caught between the expectations of most international societies, and their own world. To live near them is an experience to say of the least. For often, they appear as rag-muffins and live in such dirt and squaller as to be disgusting. To meet some of these people on the street, is between a delight in sensation, to that of please go away....
Karl
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Post by justjohn on Sept 4, 2010 9:45:09 GMT -7
J.J. You are so incredible! The Biesiada mix, is so typical of Polka,,the music is always happy and for a bit of time, to chase out the blues that prevail so often in times of stress... I see also of some Roma musical groupen. It would so seem these people are so international with such survival instincts. Rather they are in Spain, Poland, Romania, Europe as elsewhere. Their instincts of survival and intense training from childhood through the life cycle into advanced age, is not of them to worry. Well,,with exception of earning a living through work... As an exchange, of music exchange, is for your self in honour of your presentation... The Roma live a very precarious life, they are caught between the expectations of most international societies, and their own world. To live near them is an experience to say of the least. For often, they appear as rag-muffins and live in such dirt and squaller as to be disgusting. To meet some of these people on the street, is between a delight in sensation, to that of please go away.... Karl Karl, those are great. Here is one that will set your feet tapping. And then here is a song by a Ukrainian singer.
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Post by Nictoshek on Sept 4, 2010 10:31:11 GMT -7
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Post by karl on Sept 4, 2010 11:20:03 GMT -7
J.J.
Jeepers! The Gypsy Kings are very well known. I was blessed with some of their recordings for a time. But, through the process of relocating for various reasons, the paste box of storage, simply disappeard....
As much as I appear to be disdain and throw hot coals upon their brow, it needs be for my self to shut up. As a little fellow whilst at Aunties {Dänemark}. A Roma family occupied a house some 50 Km from us. The man {Head of house-litterly} come to visit Auntie in regards to my to live with them for the summer months, it seems he was acquainted with my father some years prior, and knew my family, one mystery always seems to follow another.....
I was then of years 9 and with Aunties blessing, I accompanied him to my new summer home. Their home was quite very old and some what the victim of weathering, but very quite clean. The man was very thin and wirery with the very apparent strength of will power. The woman was tall and heavy. There were two older boys {sons} and three girls {daughters} one daughter was close to my age but a bit older, the others were all my elder.
My self? I was a little snot, very spoilt and always under the protection of the skirts of mother and auntie. I think perhaps in later thinking, this was a decision of them both for my maturing and to learn discipline.
For my summer family were all of each with a responsibility for the family. The man was very quite and would spoke very soft in voice. His wishes were to the entire house hold, as an order.
My newly assigned work for contribution to the house, was to assist in the kitchen in cooking and in the wash house for cleaning of cloths. This was I had learnt, was for my experience with Auntie in preparation of various meats for our smoke house curing, and in making of various cheezes and wurst.
My 1st lesson in discipline, was in helping in butchering. They raised cages of cages of rabbits as part and partial of the garden vegetables for the house. The master {husband of the woman} carried and very nasty switch bladed knife, and with this he then snapped off the head of each rabbit as they handed to him. My job was to catch the little fellows as they were killed and hold them for Blanche {younger daughter my age} and she in turn would rinse the carcass off in a tub of cold water to then hand it to her sister in this turn as it was a constant organized butcher line of rabbit carcases to end with final pack jars for storage.
Well, I was the weak link in the line up, for my vomenting between rabbit kills was too much for the others. My job was changed to cleaning of storage jars before use. And to final clean up after butchering was completed.
In all this. The man never spoke out, but merely pointed to others and what he wished to be done...
My next lesson in discipline was to follow within a week of butchering time. It was hot the following week, as the house was close to a small lake, it was my wish to go wading in the cool water and chase the small fish around with a stick and rocks. He {man of house} spoke very quietly to me, to stay way from the water... Of course being the spoilt little thing I was, I ignored this warning and in this stead, removed my shoes and proceeded to wade far out in this appealing cool water.
As to be of a spoilt child in his folly, I stepped upon several glass pieces lodged in the soft mud. With the sudden pain, and the large out flow of blood, of course I screamed as if attacked by a school of blood thirsty sharks.
The elder of the boys, went into the water and fished my loused body out and then to the shore line. The man of the house was there as of magic, placed a towel of thick cloth over the wound to stop the bleeding, and carried my loused body to the house for cleaning of the wound cut.
Form that day forward, what ever he said in his soft manner, was a direct order to my self and then some. His shadow was my compass, his word was my order.
That summer, was the beginning of my lessons of life. I will never forget the Roma family that took me in, nor of the lessons of humility they taught me.
Today of present, I remember not his or her name, other then Herr Wallace and the daugthter close to my age as: blanche
I will never forget that Roma summer, or the family I was to live with.
Karl
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Post by Eric on Sept 4, 2010 14:52:48 GMT -7
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Post by Eric on Sept 4, 2010 15:06:19 GMT -7
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Post by Jaga on Sept 4, 2010 17:08:34 GMT -7
Eric,
beautiful songs by Anna German. She had a unique voice.
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Post by Jaga on Sept 4, 2010 17:12:12 GMT -7
This song about lady bug was my favorite when I was a young girl:
by Kasia Sobczyk - this is a selection of many songs. She was probably the most popular artist of 60s. The first song is my favorite since it was written for children "Biedroneczki sa w kropeczki"
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Post by geniafl on Sept 5, 2010 10:28:50 GMT -7
This is my all time favorite....
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Post by Nictoshek on Sept 5, 2010 13:11:35 GMT -7
This is my all time favorite....
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Post by justjohn on Sept 6, 2010 14:21:18 GMT -7
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Post by justjohn on Sept 8, 2010 13:50:23 GMT -7
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Post by justjohn on Sept 8, 2010 13:57:19 GMT -7
Eric here's one for you !
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Post by Eric on Sept 8, 2010 14:54:56 GMT -7
Thanks, but, believe it or not, I've never been a fan of André Rieu.
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