In music, the sarabande (It., sarabanda) is a dance in triple metre. The second and third beats of each measure are often tied, giving the dance a distinctive rhythm of quarter notes and eighth notes in alternation.[vague] The quarter notes are said to correspond[weasel words] with the dragging steps in the dance.
The sarabande is first mentioned in Central America: in 1539, a dance called a zarabanda is mentioned in a poem written in Panama by Fernando Guzmán Mexía. Apparently the dance became popular in the Spanish colonies before moving back across the Atlantic to Spain. While it was banned in Spain in 1583 for its obscenity, it was frequently cited in literature of the period (for instance in works by Cervantes and Lope de Vega).
In the Baroque era the suite typically included a sarabande, as the third of four movements in the standard 18th-century form: allemande, courante, sarabande, gigue.
The sarabande form was revived in the late-nineteenth and early twentieth centuries by composers such as Debussy and Satie and, in different styles, Vaughan Williams (in Job) and Benjamin Britten (in the Simple Symphony).
Jonathan Douglas "Jon" Lord D.M. (born 9 June 1941) is an English composer, pianist and Hammond organ player known for his pioneering work in fusing rock and classical or baroque forms, especially with Deep Purple, besides Whitesnake, Paice, Ashton & Lord, The Artwoods and Flower Pot Men.
In 1968, Lord founded Deep Purple, where he was virtually the leader of the band until 1970. In addition, Lord wrote the organ riff on "Child in Time". He and drummer Ian Paice were the only constant band members during the band's existence from 1968 to 1976 and from when they reformed in 1984 until Lord's retirement from Deep Purple in 2002. On 11 November 2010, Lord was made an Honorary Fellow of Stevenson College, Edinburgh. On 15 July 2011, he was granted an honorary Doctor of Music degree by his home town's University of Leicester.
Jon Lord was born in Leicester on 9 June 1941 to his parents Miriam (1912–1995, née Hudson) and Reg. He studied classical piano from the age of five, and those influences are a recurring trademark in his work. His influences range from Bach (a constant connection in his music and his keyboard improvisation) to Medieval popular music and the English tradition of Edward Elgar.
Hilary Hahn (born November 27, 1979) is a Grammy-winning American violinist.
Hahn was born in Lexington, Virginia. Beginning her studies when she was three years old at Baltimore's Peabody Institute, she was admitted to the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia at age ten, and in 1991, made her major orchestral debut with the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. Hahn signed her first musical recording contract at age sixteen in 1996 with Sony Music. She graduated from the Curtis Institute in May 1999 with a Bachelor of Music degree.
Hahn plays on an 1864 copy of Paganini's Cannone made by Vuillaume. Her main interest is in solo performance; she also performs chamber music.
Hahn began playing the violin one month before her fourth birthday in the Suzuki Program of Baltimore's Peabody Institute. She participated in a Suzuki class for a year. Between 1984 and 1989 Hahn studied in Baltimore under Klara Berkovich. In 1990, at ten, Hahn was admitted to the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia where she became a student of Jascha Brodsky. Hahn studied with Brodsky for seven years and learned the études of Kreutzer, Ševčík, Gaviniès, Rode, and the Paganini Caprices. She learned twenty-eight violin concertos, recital programs, and several other short pieces.
Heads face the ground nervous hand that slay dead snakes float until setting
of a day a butterfly in burning hell oh will she live and will she tell the
king is dead long live the unseen clowns and fools raped the griefing queen
inhale exhale the beast's breath a killer died dreaming of death a landscape
of assassins mind the dying flowers made hime blind junkies in the desert of
weakening will death love drugs dreams it will kill the king is dead long
griefing queen excited heartbeat in the madman's chest kill them all kill them
all let god do the rest infamous whore her sour taste sex dripping slow
deceased obsessed children in the nightfall of fire I hear them beg and cry
tonight excuse me sir do you have a light man made gods man is made to be
liers liers blind man saw the truth in the eye but who believes in blind man's
lie poet hang himself in the rope of words angels spoke but nobody heard fatal
I'm slowly sinking into sweet state of decadence I hear the bottom calling me
singing in mysterious ways the world and reality forever left behind I'm the
one with forbidden pleasures turning off my mind nothing really matters in the
universe of frozen space relax me into the groove show me my right place
pulsating particles in my eyes riding on the wave of hate I gotta slow down
and forget ready to explode please save my head nothing ever changes in the
Welcome to where everything is as lovely as a dream welcome to where you and I
row gently down the stream slide into this chilled our land let the smoke you
high release yourself to the unknown world close your tired vacant eyes too
stoned to walk you dream away and fly with the flow feel your spine melt down
like wax and swim with your soul floating in the shivering light fell the balm
of feelings heal walk on clouds of unborn thoughts in the sky of unreal move
yourself like dancing fire to rhythms never heard down to the ground hear the
river of worlds you're wild and beautiful I can see the stars in your eyes
The sea turns the endless tide open up my mind so wide the giant ocean shivers
black dolphins leave thousands tracks awake the ghosts of sunken ships drowned
sailors on virgin trips I can't feel anything no more my helpless body drifts
ashore I role into unconsciousness in brighten lights I'm getting dressed a
choir of dying as I sink struggle no more don't even think now I hear my faith
now calls and I drown in the beauty of it all do you do you love the midnight
sea I saw the sea and sea saw me strange brothers wave good bye same blood
Can't tell the difference between dark or light signs and smells of the
invisible night blood and rust in the palm of my hand I focus corpse city
wasteland in the blackness of my slivery soul things they're burried and
things I stole the rain is soft dark crystal tears I've been waiting for too
many years dogs fight for pride they die for pride insane storm rides the
skyline eye of storm string and divine roof top horizon of deat hand dirt
we've murdered and killed the earth dogs fight for pride they die for pride
dogs fight for pride the loser's corpse is pushed aside the concrete anguish
inside scream I breathe stinking subway steam a bitter heart fills my my days
Alchemists and magicians reverse sailors of river styx poets and musicians
decadent subconscious travellers soldiers fall fade and die like stars in the
universe of oblivion no one enslaved escapes jealosy and delightful hatred of
being lizard snake god human eyes lizard insect of disguise naked mothers
embraced children in womb like poses soft child eyes fly in this prison of
loyable arms it's strange how needles can ejaculate hoarse power into pierced
burning vains and cause earthquakes and eruptions in the other parts of this
Out in the dark,
At home on the edge.
I'm climbing on top of the world.
As north wind blows,
I stand on a ledge,
With burning green eyes at the wall.
I'm running free!
[Chorus:]
The Eyes of Summer will carry me north.
To my destiny after the the fall.
Seeking the secrets of forgotten forces.
Awakening beyond the wall.
Learning to fly with my unopened eye,
Yearning to fly with the raven so high.
Run to the north,
Across barren waste.
You'll find me inside of your dreams.
In haunted woods,
Where others await.
And nothing's as safe as it seems.
Deliver Me!
There is no heaven of glory bright.
A dream that passed,
the dreamer woke.
Like ships adrift,
hoping to run aground.
A rude awakening,
bringing sense to life.
Small glimpses of light in a sea of abiding sorrow,
like whispers among deafening screams...
life is a great indulgence,
Death is a great absence.
Earth verse is an inferno,
Hands dripping innocent blood,
drowning their servants in degradation.
Imposing symbols,
inflicting rules,
under a holy veil.
A life has built onto itself,
a golden throne.
Millions hypnotized are marching blindly to a kingdom of hate.
The dead hand has been permitted to sterilize living through!
Run from the herd. Deluminate.
Question, behold.
All this is fraud!
Shepherds of the weak-willed,
phantom light in empty dreams.
Established sophisms be dethroned,
rooted out,
burnt and destroyed.
Despaired thoughts,
of future years,
myriad abandoned dreams,
poisoned by an envenomed knife which crudely had pierced,
deep in the very source of life,
deep in the sense of existence.
Inaction, apathy, despair...
As every path to an escape seems to be blocked by morals,
every flag, every border, traps all wakening minds.
Repression under a suspended fear.
Opposition how to forbid?
A hope upon,
the gloom to steal from the hands of time.
Through war we will conquer peace...
so feel as though the power we're given,
to rise to a better world than this.
All remnants of this modern plague.
Sightless eyes and clouded brains.
All marked with numbers discerned by race.
Boxed in a system about to fail.
Our thoughts are forbidden and buried in dusk.
The glimmer of hope flickers in gloom.
Barren emotions.
Under a black cloud hiding the sun.
Sunk in the apathy of this frozen life.
But the world goes on,
straight to collapse.
Frail forms of life,
born, marked for death.
Our thoughts are forbidden and buried in dusk.
The glimmer of hope flickers in gloom.
Barren emotions.
Our arms have been stolen,
the dream is fading away.
Our wings have been severed,
we plummet to the ground.
Decay remains.
Under the surveillance,
under the knife,
under the black clouds.
Retaliate,
Remnants of this plague.
Deceived dawn,
thrown in despair,
running aimless their death race.
You never had the time to think.
Live to serve,
consume to exist.
A foe that wears your face.
Do you feel safe, in your grave?
Indoctrination of thought.
Do you feel safe, in our graves?
Submerged in fearful silence,
to hide your blackest guilt.
It's not the fear of death,
it's the grief for a life unlived.
Deceived dawn,
thrown in despair,
you never had the time to think.
Live to serve,
consume to exist.
A foe that wears your face.
Do you feel safe, in your grave?
Indoctrination of thought.
Do you feel safe, in our graves?
The purest dawn,
in the hag of obscurity,
grows in fear,
control and decent misery.
Is this grave made to feel safe?
Deleted actions, once bled of purity.
Fable now, waltzing with blinded eyes.
A cross bow of bitter emotions,
will wash away the sins,
on a sky made of grey.
Destroyed.Hunted.Corrupted.
The vein resounds to an echoing sun.
Killing the inner dream of neverland.
The mass applauds a burnt out puppet parade.
Inside from dead ratios,
fists try to touch the sky.
The treacherous gasp of feedback,
detects resistance with a godlike mask.
Destroyed.Hunted.Corrupted.
Days pass us,
spilling black blood.
Under the weight of conceited thoughts.
New age tomorrow mudded with shame,
for sins that bleed,
for sins that stain.
Considering the body,
a prison cell.
To change from within,
tears all hiding inside.
Living in fear,
break out from your soul.
Set power on fire and squat now the world.
Listening to the echo of your hollow truth.
Reflections of logic on a broken glass.
Constant vows of misguided decisions.
Can't bring back what's lost,
Can't bring back what's gone.
Burn down.
Revelation.
Ragged by infuriated waves.
Forgotten remains, forever,
from now on.
Shaded thought by the untamed chase.
In the dark chamber of the earth.
With shaded mind,
by the untamed chase.
Our, static course.
The last ones laid their heads as sacrifice,
to the ritual of the impulsive ages.
And humans never existed.
And the white snow of silence,
covered finally the sunken cities.
to the ritual of the impulsive ages.
Forgotten remains.
Under the white snow of silence.
Turbid values in "holy" writings of the past,
deriving out of the sickest minds,
from their guilty hands.
Haunting the lives of the ignorant.
Innocents without the privilege of defense,
for deeds that spellbind masses considered as obscene.
The stones of judgement. The stones of shame.
Degrading death, like redemption falls upon them,
without mercy, having no qualms.
Innocents without the privilege of defense,
for deeds that spellbind masses considered as obscene.
Souls sacrificed on the altar of morality.
Who will determine?