Linkin Park’s latest release “Friendly Fire” was a fitting tribute to the life and exploits of Chester Bennington.
Pursuing music can be a difficult choice given the prevalence of familial and societal expectations. Therefore, mastering different skill sets is almost always an instrumental part of a musician’s life.
Despite the obvious positives of listening to music when studying, one must be cautious to ensure that the music doesn’t hinder studying.
“It’s a type of Brazilian music, this elevator is playing The Girl From Ipanema.”
A question that comes to mind is why does a book even need a playlist? There are two solid answers.
Eurydice, his beloved, lost to the shades, In the underworld's depths, where darkness pervades.
This week, then, we're thinking: music and books, music and literature. In print and online, we're dreaming in tunes, dancing with words, daring to merge the two.
My mother’s house is beside a lake that separates the rich and mighty of the city from a little isle of people who work for them.
Once on a particularly smothering hot day, on a CNG ride to work, I was stuck in the most heinous traffic for over two hours. Over the yelling drivers, honking cars, and incessant cursing over why the CNGs were trying to overtake the expensive cars, I was listening to my usual cycle of songs. As coincidence would have it, David Gilmour in his seraphic voice posed the question: “So, so you think you can tell/ Heaven from hell?”
Linkin Park’s latest release “Friendly Fire” was a fitting tribute to the life and exploits of Chester Bennington.
Pursuing music can be a difficult choice given the prevalence of familial and societal expectations. Therefore, mastering different skill sets is almost always an instrumental part of a musician’s life.
Despite the obvious positives of listening to music when studying, one must be cautious to ensure that the music doesn’t hinder studying.
“It’s a type of Brazilian music, this elevator is playing The Girl From Ipanema.”
A question that comes to mind is why does a book even need a playlist? There are two solid answers.
Eurydice, his beloved, lost to the shades, In the underworld's depths, where darkness pervades.
This week, then, we're thinking: music and books, music and literature. In print and online, we're dreaming in tunes, dancing with words, daring to merge the two.
Once on a particularly smothering hot day, on a CNG ride to work, I was stuck in the most heinous traffic for over two hours. Over the yelling drivers, honking cars, and incessant cursing over why the CNGs were trying to overtake the expensive cars, I was listening to my usual cycle of songs. As coincidence would have it, David Gilmour in his seraphic voice posed the question: “So, so you think you can tell/ Heaven from hell?”
My mother’s house is beside a lake that separates the rich and mighty of the city from a little isle of people who work for them.
I cannot, for the life of me, definitively describe what makes music. Growing up in a family where music of any form was not typically paid any reverence, my exposure to it was tunnelled into mainstream pop songs for the longest time.