Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell

by Susanna Clarke

Magic is not ended in England. I myself am quite a tolerable practical magician.

Gilbert Norrell

I don’t remember when it was the last time I found reading such a thick book so satisfying. Sure, it is long, at 782 pages and 185 footnotes, but not a bit tedious. The only reason it took me about four months was that I read it strictly on weekends, somewhere between going to bed and falling asleep. What I don’t understand though, why it took me more than ten years to start reading it. Ms. Clarke’s first (and so far the only) novel is a great story beautifully told, inventive, tasteful, with just right balance of general scariness and deadpan English humour. I didn’t care much for its protagonists, who, in spite of being “practical magicians”, are rather boring. On the other hand, I grew rather fond of the main villain, the nameless “gentleman with thistle-down hair”: vain and murderous but also generous and, well, charming. It’s a shame he is getting his comeuppance in the end. Or is he?

If you still need any proof that magic has not ended in England, or at least in Yorkshire, read this book.

“Spain is, as your Royal Highness knows, one of the most uncivilized places in the world, with scarcely any thoroughfare superior to a goat track from one end of the country to the other. But thanks to Mr Strange my men had good English roads to take them wherever they were needed and if there was a mountain or a forest or a city in our way, why! Mr Strange simply moved it somewhere else.”

The Duke of York remarked that King Ferdinand of Spain had sent a letter to the Prince Regent complaining that many parts of his kingdom had been rendered entirely unrecognizable by the English magician and demanding that Mr Strange return and restore the country to its original form.

“Oh,” said the Duke of Wellington, not much interested, “they are still complaining about that, are they?”

Genesis

by Sebastião Salgado

One day, a small army of huge rusty iron frames appeared in the park of San Telmo. They host Genesis, a project of Sebastião Salgado — another world-famous photographer I never heard about before. Now that I did, and had a chance to investigate, I am telling you: totally worth seeing, especially when it’s free. So if you are in Las Palmas, don’t miss. Until 21 June.

Pa’ki pa’ka

by Robert “Robi” Svärd

Dejame sentir la dulce maravilla que tienen tus labios
Dejame decirte morena mia cuanto te amo
Que quiero entregarte lo mas profundo de un sentimiento
Y que tu cuerpo vibre, que vibre con un “te quiero”

Every time I think I heard it all, Songlines proves me wrong. What could one possibly add to what Paco de Lucía has done to flamenco guitar? “Robi” Svärd shows that yes, one can add something else. And that “something else” is not being his “Nordic touch” or (enter here any other cliché pointing to Robi’s origin). At no point his could-have-been-frightening virtuosity stands in the way of his singable, danceable and, well, simply jolly good music. Not exactly what I call “easy listening” but for me the only difficulty was to choose the favourite song! Anyway, here are my top three (for now): Dulce maravilla, with simple but efficient harmonics-driven intro/bridge; bulerías El aire de mi corazón; and a very tasty title track. Enjoy!

Pa’ki pa’ka

1. Pa’ki pa’ka (rumba)
2. El aire de mi corazón (bulerías)
3. Dulce maravilla (alegrías)
4. La chispa (bulerías)
5. Caminando (tangos)
6. Barokería
7. Lágrimas secas (soleá por bulerías)
8. Habana a Suécia (guajiras)
9. Paseo de los tristes (granaina)

Robert “Robi” Svärd — guitars
Miguel “El Cheyenne” — percussion (1—8)
Nani Conde — bass (1, 2, 5)
Alfredo Tejada — vocals (2, 3, 5, 7)
Ahmad Al Khatib — oud/cello (2, 3)
Ann Sehlstedt “La Pantera” — dance (8)

All tracks composed by Robert Svärd except track 7 (public domain, arranged by Robert Svärd)
All lyrics by Alfredo Tejada
Produced by Robert Svärd
Recorded, mixed and mastered at FJR Estudios de grabación, Granada, May — July 2015 by Robert Svärd and Fernando Romero
Cover by Andreas Borg

Fahrenheit 451

by Ray Bradbury

It was thanks to this book which I read in 1970s as 451 градус по Фаренгейту that I remembered, for the first time, any data in this absurd scale — only to learn, already after Bradbury’s death, that paper does not auto-ignite at this particular temperature. Gary Dexter goes as far as suggesting to replace the famous epigraph

‘Fahrenheit 451: The temperature at which book paper catches fire, and burns’

with

‘Fahrenheit 843: The approximate temperature at which rayon fiber untreated with N-methyl-dimethyl-phosphonopropionamide catches fire, and burns’.

Try telling that to Bradbury fans.

Doesn’t matter. When read in Russian, the book was as scary as it was fascinating. Reading it in English, I found it much less so. Could it be because we live in times when people do not read books anymore anyway? Not just the new generation, but especially the new generation, if my students are anything to go by — my, sometimes I sound awfully old. Bradbury’s future has arrived, and it doesn’t look good, but we are getting used to it.

La Sandunga

by Lila Downs

I discovered Lila Downs in 2004, thanks to Songlines. One of the first issues that I read featured Beginner’s Guide to Lila Downs. Back then, her discography was rather short. Three (of five available) albums were listed as “best”, the new one (Una Sangre) was to be reviewed in the following issue, and La Sandunga, by some reason, was referred to as “best avoided”. And so this snippet of information stayed with me. Now, after avoiding it all these years, I finally bought it, more for completeness’ sake rather than anything else. But what a discovery!

Recorded almost 20 years ago, La Sandunga, far from being just a taste of things to come, is a beautiful piece of work in its own right. Lila’s music is always a fusion, but this one is probably the least “fused” of all her albums. No cumbia, blues or klezmer here. My favourite songs are the two boleros by Álvaro Carrillo, Un poco más and Sabor a mí. The versions of La Llorona and Yunu Yucu Ninu are rather different from you can hear on her later albums. The bonus tracks on this CD are also worth listening to; even Bésame mucho — which you’d think must be, of all Mexican songs, best avoided indeed — sounds fresh. Please give it a listen. You won’t be disappointed.

Boxer 65

by Trace Elliot

And so I said goodbye to my trusty bass combo. I had the ad at both milanuncios and Vibbo (formerly and better known as segundamano.es, which is hardly surprising as “Vibbo” does not make any sense) for at least half a year. In the end, I sold it for a rather princely sum of €160 to a fellow musician here in Las Palmas. We tried the amp in his studio and he was very impressed with the sound quality as well as its pristine state.

Anyone should be. I myself didn’t believe that its nominal output is only 65 watts. I’d say it goes to eleven delivers at least 80 W. The build quality is equally impressive. Not to mention the famous and unbelievably comfy green carpet covering. I spent many a happy hour a-jammin’ while sittin’ on it in my “stairway to hell” period. But it really had to go. I was not using it since 2009 and, after travelling with us to Fuerteventura and then to Gran Canaria, good old Tracy was just gathering dust. Oh well. We had a fifteen-year ride, mate. I hope it will be put to a good use in the new hands.

Specifications

Output: 65 W rms / 8Ω Loudspeaker: Celestion 12" 8Ω Input impedance: >470 kΩ Sensitivity: 77 mV rms Weight: 17 kg Dimensions: 480×410×290 mm

The Day the Earth Stood Still

a film by Robert Wise

The message from a friendly alien is clear: We come in peace. Don’t get too cocky, or we’ll destroy your puny planet.

We spent a cosy Saturday evening watching this film brought to us, once again, by Timur. I honestly can’t say it’s a masterpiece, but at least I finally get the cultural references in Futurama. The movie’s almost total lack of humour made the experience even more hilarious.

Timur pointed out that on the DVD cover (which reproduces an original theatrical release poster), Gort holds quite a different woman. It matters not: nobody in this film ever pays attention to the woman. For example, Klaatu is shot and held by the army guys while Helen escapes unnoticed to deliver “one of the most famous commands in science fiction”, that is, Klaatu barada nikto. The phrase, in supposedly alien language, actually includes two Russian words: никто (nobody) and борода (beard), this latter is used here as a rhyming slang for никогда (never). Thus, apart from a direct message that Klaatu is no more, it contains a boast that nobody will ever (or, at least, until it’s too late) get its meaning. Duh. Another mystery cracked before lunchtime.