Views: Author: whirlwind Publication date: 24 Oct Comments: 0. Kiss - Crazy Nights Kiss - Asylum Kiss - Animalize Kiss - Lick It Up Views: Author: buka Publication date: 28 Feb Comments: 0.
Kiss - Lick It Up flac. Kiss - Creatures Of The Night Views: Author: buka Publication date: 13 Jan Comments: 0. Kiss - Kiss Killers flac. Views: Author: whirlwind Publication date: 4 Jul Comments: 0. Kiss - Music From The Elder Kiss - Unmasked Kiss - Dynasty Kiss - Dynasty flac. Kiss - Double Platinum W-Germany reissue flac. Kiss - Love Gun Views: Author: buka Publication date: 27 Feb Comments: 0. Kiss - Love Gun 5-th japanese '93 flac. Views: Author: whirlwind Publication date: 1 Oct Comments: 0.
Kiss - Destroyer Kiss - Rock And Roll Over Views: Author: buka Publication date: 26 Feb Comments: 0. Kiss - Dressed To Kill Kiss - Kiss Kiss - Hotter Than Hell Just sweaty. They see her waving! The language does not matter — it was certainly an Earth tongue. This is ours. We of Earth have exported everything from Hollywood crawlies to synthetic radioactives, but this belongs solely to Terra, and to her sons and daughters wherever they may be.
We have all heard many stories of Rhysling. Nor can we quote them in a family magazine. Songs of the Spaceways appeared the week he died; when it became a best seller, the publicity stories about him were pieced together from what people remembered about him plus the highly colored handouts from his publishers. In truth you would not have wanted him in your parlor; he was not socially acceptable.
He had a permanent case of sun itch, which he scratched continually, adding nothing to his negligible beauty. He was never solemn! His mouth was always open, singing, grinning, drinking, or eating. The bandage was any rag, usually dirty. After he lost his sight he became less and less neat about his person. The Space Precautionary Act had never been heard of, and the Company was responsible only for wages, if and when.
Half the ships that went further than Luna City never came back. Spacemen did not care; by preference they signed for shares, and any one of them would have bet you that he could jump from the th floor of Harriman Tower and ground safely, if you offered him three to two and allowed him rubber heels for the landing.
Jetmen were the most carefree of the lot, and the meanest. Compared with them the masters, the radarmen, and the astrogators there were no supers nor stewards in those days were gentle vegetarians. Jetmen knew too much. The others trusted the skill of the captain to get them down safely; jetmen knew that skill was useless against the blind and fitful devils chained inside their rocket motors. Rhysling knew her well; she was an old tub that had plied the Luna City run, Supra-New York space station to Leyport and back, before she was converted for deep space.
He should have made chief engineer by the time he signed for the Jovian loop trip, but, after the Drywater pioneer trip, he had been fired, blacklisted, and grounded at Luna City for having spent his time writing a chorus and several verses at a time when he should have been watching his gauges. The song was the infamous The Skipper is a Father to his Crew, with the uproariously unprintable final couplet. The blacklist did not bother him. He won an accordion from a Chinese barkeep in Luna City by cheating at onethumb and thereafter kept going by singing to the miners for drinks and tips until the rapid attrition in spacemen caused the Company agent there to give him another chance.
He kept his nose clean on the Luna run for a year or two, got back into deep space, helped give Venusburg its original ripe reputation, strolled the banks of the Grand Canal when a second colony was established at the ancient Martian capital, and froze his toes and ears on the second trip to Titan. Things moved fast in those days. Once the power-pile drive was accepted the number of ships that put out from the LunaTerra system was limited only by the availability of crews.
Jetmen were scarce; the shielding was cut to a minimum to save weight and few married men cared to risk possible exposure to radioactivity. Rhysling did not want to be a father, so jobs were always open to him during the golden days of the claiming boom.
He crossed and recrossed the system, singing the doggerel that boiled up in his head and chording it out on his accordion. Ten minutes later he was back. The cadmium dampers are warped. Tell the Chief. We raise ship in thirty minutes.
It is a long climb to the Jovian planetoids; a Hawk-class clunker had to blast for three watches before going into free flight. Rhysling had the second watch. Damping was done by hand then, with a multiplying vernier and a danger gauge. When the gauge showed red, he tried to correct it — no luck.
He slapped the emergency discover and fished at the hot stuff with the tongs. The lights went out, he went right ahead. A jetman has to know his power room the way your tongue knows the inside of your mouth. He sneaked a quick look over the top of the lead baffle when the lights went out. The blue radioactive glow did not help him any; he jerked his head back and went on fishing by touch.
And for crissake get me some light down here! The blue radioactive glow was the last thing his optic nerve ever responded to. That was all — finish — just another space bum who had not had the good fortune to finish it off when his luck ran out.
He holed up with the prospectors and archeologists at How-Far? But spacemen die if they stay in one place; he hooked a crawler over to Drywater again and thence to Marsopolis. The capital was well into its boom; the processing plants lined the Grand Canal on both sides and roiled the ancient waters with the filth of the runoff. This was before the TriPlanet Treaty forbade disturbing cultural relics for commerce; half the slender, fairylike towers had been torn down, and others were disfigured to adapt them as pressurized buildings for Earthmen.
His memory was good. He stood on the riparian esplanade where the ancient great of Mars had taken their ease and saw its beauty spreading out before his blinded eyes — ice blue plain of water unmoved by tide, untouched by breeze, and reflecting serenely the sharp, bright stars of the Martian sky, and beyond the water the lacy buttresses and flying towers of an architecture too delicate for our rumbling, heavy planet.
The result was Grand Canal. The subtle change in his orientation which enabled him to see beauty at Marsopolis where beauty was not now began to affect his whole life. All women became beautiful to him.
He knew them by their voices and fitted their appearances to the sounds. It is a mean spirit indeed who will speak to a blind man other than in gentle friendliness; scolds who had given their husbands no peace sweetened their voices to Rhysling. It populated his world with beautiful women and gracious men. It mellowed his approach, changed his doggerel to verse, and sometimes even to poetry. He had plenty of time to think now, time to get all the lovely words just so, and to worry a verse until it sang true in his head.
Feel the pain in your ship,Feel her strain in their grip. Feel her rise! Feel her drive! Straining steel, come alive,On her jets! At Venusburg he sang his new songs and some of the old, in the bars. It was an easy life. Any space port was his home and any ship his private carriage. No skipper cared to refuse to lift the extra mass of blind Rhysling and his squeeze box; he shuttled from Venusburg to Leyport to Drywater to New Shanghai, or back again, as the whim took him.
Even when signing the contract for Songs of the Spaceways he made his mark in a cabin-class liner somewhere between Luna City and Ganymede. Horowitz knew a good thing for the publishing trade when he heard it; the entire contents of Songs were sung directly into the tape in the communications room of that ship before he let Rhysling out of his sight.
The next three volumes were squeezed out of Rhysling at Venusburg, where Horowitz had sent an agent to keep him liquored up until he had sung all he could remember. The earliest form we know about was composed before Rhysling was blinded, during a drinking bout with some of the indentured men on Venus.
The verses were concerned mostly with the things the labor clients intended to do back on Earth if and when they ever managed to pay their bounties and thereby be allowed to go home. Some of the stanzas were vulgar, some were not, but the chorus was recognizably that of Green Hills. We know exactly where the final form of Green Hills came from, and when. Rhysling decided to ride her back to Earth. The Company no longer permitted deadheads: Rhysling knew this but it never occurred to him that the ruling might apply to him.
He was getting old, for a spaceman, and just a little matter of fact about his privileges. The Captain found him there while making a last minute tour of his ship. Shake a leg and get out of here.
We raise ship at once. The two men did not touch in background nor spirit; space was changing. Carry me. Have this man removed. Rhysling spoke again. That clause was intended to succor men who had missed their ships, not to let a man drag free all over space. The law says I can have a trip back. Go look it up. Go on — look it up. Be a sport. Rhysling knew that he had used his blindness to place the Captain in an impossible position, but this did not embarrass Rhysling — he rather enjoyed it.
Ten minutes later the siren sounded, he heard the orders on the bull horn for UpStations. When the soft sighing of the locks and the slight pressure change in his ears let him know that take-off was imminent he got up and shuffled down to the power room, as he wanted to be near the jets when they blasted off. He needed no one to guide him in any ship of the Hawk class. Trouble started during the first watch. He tried again. Give out with the whole thing. Everything automatic. When I was twisting her tail you had to stay awake.
Rhysling felt out the controls and asked questions until he was familiar with the new installation. It was his conceit that he was still a jetman and that his present occupation as a troubadour was simply an expedient during one of the fusses with the company that any man could get into. I unshipped them because they obscure the dials. You might need them. Macdougal caught it square, a blast of radioactivity that burned him down where he stood. Rhysling sensed what had happened.
Automatic reflexes of old habit came out. He slapped the discover and rang the alarm to the control room simultaneously. Then he remembered the unshipped links. He had to grope until he found them, while trying to keep as low as he could to get maximum benefit from the baffles.
Nothing but the links bothered him as to location. The place was as light to him as any place could be; he knew every spot, every control, the way he knew the keys of his accordion.
Power room! The links he got into place, after cursing someone, anyone, for having failed to rack the wrench he needed. Then he commenced trying to reduce the trouble by hand.
It was a long job and ticklish. Presently he decided that the jet would have to be spilled, pile and all. First he reported. This is Rhysling, on watch. Stand by to record. He had the ship to consider, and the passengers and crew. The doors had to stay closed. The Captain must have been still more surprised at what Rhysling sent for record. Foul are her flooded jungles,Crawling with unclean death.
All hands! Stand by! Free falling! And the lights below us fade. As for himself, Rhysling was not so sure. He was unable to see the bright, rosy fog in which he worked but he knew it was there. He went on with the business of flushing the air out through the outer valve, repeating it several times to permit the level of radioaction to drop to something a man might stand under suitable armor. Unpolished,but such beauties, Mr. The man was alunar grubstaker who had a methodfor locating the Bells in the cratersides.
But he hasgathered dozens, hidden them onthe moon, and come to Earth toarrange the disposing of them. A most shocking accident,Mr. A fall from a height. Very sad. Of course, his activitieson the moon were quite illegal.
TheDominion is very strict about unauthorizedBell-mining. So perhapsit was a judgment upon him afterall … In any case, I have hismap. Urth in great excitement. A University expeditionuncovered it and presented itto me in return for … Come, Inspector,I must show it to you.
That it was flawed wasobvious. It had a constriction linerunning halfway about it that madeit seem like two small globes, firmlybut imperfectly squashed together. Despite that, it had been lovinglypolished to a dull luster, softly gray,velvety smooth, and faintly pockmarkedin a way that laboratories,in their futile efforts to prepare syntheticBells, had found impossible toduplicate.
A flawed Bell is temperamental. But bone works. He adjustedit, steadying it daintily. Then, lettingthe Bell swing free, he broughtdown the thick end of the bonespoon and stroked the Bell softly. It was as though a million harpshad sounded a mile away. It swelledand faded and returned. It camefrom no particular direction.
Itsounded inside the head, incrediblysweet and pathetic and tremulousall at once. It died away lingeringly and bothmen were silent for a full minute. A supplyof Bells would be worth murder. Urth, and with a quick motion ofhis hand, he tossed it through sixfeet of air to Peyton. Davenport cried out and half-rosefrom his chair. Peyton brought uphis arms with an effort, but soquickly that they managed to catchthe Bell. Then, holding the Bell up by thelength of steel wire still attached toit, he ran a thumb nail over its surfacewith an expert, curving motion.
It twanged! The note was very mellow,very flute-like, holding with aslight vibrato that faded lingeringlyand conjured up pictures of a summertwilight. For a short moment, all threemen were lost in the sound. Dubois — Colonel Dubois — say, as wellas his extraordinary letter, while we went swinging back toward camp.
We hadn't had anything but canned music at first and that only for parade andcalls. But the powers-that-be had found out early who could play and who couldn't;instruments were provided and a regimental band was organized, all our own — even thedirector and the drum major were boots. It didn't mean they got out of anything. Oh no! It just meant they were allowed andencouraged to do it on their own time, practicing evenings and Sundays and such — andthat they got to strut and countermarch and show off at parade instead of being in rankswith their platoons.
The band suffered a lot of attrition but somehow they always kept it going. The campowned four sets of pipes and some Scottish uniforms, donated by Lochiel of Cameron whoseson had been killed there in training — and one of us boots turned out to be a piper; hehad learned it in the Scottish Boy Scouts.
Pretty soon we had four pipers, maybe not goodbut loud. Pipes seem very odd when you first hear them, and a tyro practicing can setyour teeth on edge — it sounds and looks as if he had a cat under his arm, its tail inhis mouth, and biting it.
But they grow on you. The first time our pipers kicked their heels out in front of theband, skirling away at 'Alamein Dead,' my hair stood up so straight it lifted my cap. Itgets you — makes tears. We couldn't take a parade band out on route march, of course, because no specialallowances were made for the band.
Tubas and bass drums had to stay behind because a boyin the band had to carry full kit, same as everybody, and could only manage an instrumentsmall enough to add to his load.
But the M. Comesband call when you are headed for the horizon, each bandsman sheds his kit withoutstopping, his squadmates split it up, and he trots to the column position of the colorcompany and starts blasting. It helps. The band drifted aft, almost out of earshot, and we stopped singing because your ownsinging drowns out the beat when it's too far away.
The latter is a 'symb', an intelligent plant creature who is symbiotically merged with Barnum's body. Anyway, such Partners live around Saturn's rings and are inspired to compose music. When they do, they travel to sell their composition to a producer. They have traveled to the firm of Ragtime and Tympani. During a break, Tympani shows them a prototype for a new musical instrument called a Synapticon.
Just so you know Tympani does not have feet, she has extra hands called 'peds. Then her expression changed to one of delight. Thenyou have something to learn. Itwas a small black box with a strapand a wire with an input jack at oneend. She turned her back to himand parted her hair at the base ofher skull.
Barnum saw the tiny gold socketburied in her hair, the kind that enabled one to interface directly witha computer. He inserted the pluginto it and she strapped the boxaround her neck. It was severelyfuntional, and had an improvised,breadboarded look about it, scarredwith tool marks and chipped paint.
The circuitry can becompacted quite a bit. But this one has atransmitter. This position is null; nosound is produced. She brought her arm up in frontof her, reaching with her hand, andthe speaker behind her made aswooping sound up the scale, breaking into a chord as her fingersclosed on the invisible tone in theair. She bent her knee forward anda soft bass note crept in, strengthening as she tensed the muscles in herthighs.
She added more harmonics withher other hand, then abruptly cockedher body to one side, explodingthe sound into a cascade of chords. Barnum sat up straight, the hairson his arms and spine sitting up withhim. Shewas lost in a world that existedslightly out of phase with the realone, a world where dance wasmusic and her body was the instrument.
Her eyeblinks becamestacatto punctuating phrases and herbreathing provided a solid rhythmicbase for the nets of sound her armsand legs and fingers were weaving. The beauty of it to Barnum andBailey was the perfect fitting together of movement to sound. Hehad thought it would be just anovelty: sweating to twist her bodyinto shapes that were awkward andunnatural to reach the notes she wasafter.
Eachelement shaped the other. Both themusic and the dance were improvised as she went along and weresubordinate to no rules but her owninternal ones.
When she finally came to rest,balancing on the tips of her pedsand letting the sound die away tonothingness, Barnum was almostnumb. And he was surprised to hearthe sound of hands clapping. It wasBailey. Bailey had never taken overmotor control. Tympani was surprised at the degree of enthusiasm.
She was astrong proponent of the synapticonbut had not met much success inher efforts to popularize it. It hadits limitations, and was viewed asan interesting but passing fad. That way I can play it as I movethrough the Ring. And thesynapticon was turned off. Part of the problems,you see, is that it takes specialtraining to operate it so it producesmore than white noise. Where are most of the nerves in thebody? So mood is even moreimportant in this than in most music.
Have you ever worked with analpha-wave device? By listening toa tone you can control certain functions of your brain. It takes practice. The brain provides the reservoir of tone for the synapticon,modulates the whole composition. When I blow across the mouthpiece in the handle, I make music with my blade. When all the holes are covered, the sound is sad, as rough as rough can be and be called smooth.
When all the holes are open, the sound pipes about, bringing to the eye flakes of sun on water, crushed metal. There are twenty holes. A Helmet of Silence i. The cheering faded, and was not. The king said hoarsely, 'Then for the good of Moneb,I must disband the council,' Taras stepped forward. He looked directly at Simon,and his eyes smiled. And so we came prepared. Beneath it, in the curve ofhis left arm, was something wrapped in silk. Simon instinctively stepped back. Taras ripped the silk away.
And in his hands was aliving creature no larger than a dove, a thing of silverand rose-pearl and delicate frills of shining membrane,and large, soft, gentle eyes. A dweller in the deep forests, a shy sweet bearer ofdestruction, an angel of madness and death.
A Harper! A low moan rose among the councilors, and therewas a shifting and a swaying of bodies poised for flight. Taras said, 'Be still. There is time enough for running,when I give you leave. The king was still, whitefacedupon his throne.
But on the shadowy benches, Simonsaw Keogh's son bent forward, yearning towardthe man he thought to be his father, his face alight witha child's faith. Taras stroked the creature in his hands, his headbent low over it. The membranous frills began to lift and stir. Therose-pearl body pulsed, and there broke forth a ripple ofmusic like the sound of a muted harp, infinitely sweetand distant.
The eyes of the Harper glowed. It was happy,pleased to be released from the binding silk that hadkept its membranes useless for the making of music. Taras continued to stroke it gently, and it respondedwith a quivering freshet of song, the liquid notes runningand trilling upon the silent air.
And two more of the helmeted men brought forthsilvery, soft-eyed captives from under their cloaks, andthey began to join their music together, timidly at first,and then more and more without hesitation, until thecouncil hall was full of the strange wild harping andmen stood still because they were too entranced now tomove. Even Simon was not proof against that infinitelypoignant tide of thrilling sound.
He felt his body respond,every nerve quivering with a pleasure akin topain. He had forgotten the effect of music on the humanconsciousness. For many years he had forgotten music. Now, suddenly, all those long-closed gates betweenmind and body were flung open by the soaring song ofthe Harpers. Clear, lovely, thoughtless, the very voiceof life unfettered, the music filled Simon with anaching hunger for he knew not what.
His mind wandereddown vague pathways thronged with shadows,and his heart throbbed with a solemn joy that was closeto tears.
Caught in the sweet wild web of that harping, hestood motionless, dreaming, forgetful of fear and danger,of everything except that somewhere in that musicwas the whole secret of creation, and that he waspoised on the very edge of understanding the subtle secretof that song. Song of a newborn universe joyously shouting itsbirth-cry, of young suns calling to each other in exultantstrength, the thunderous chorus of star-voices andthe humming bass of the racing, spinning worlds!
Song of life, growing, burgeoning, bursting, on everyworld, complicated counterpoint of a million millionspecies voicing the ecstasy of being in triumphantchorus! Something deep in Simon Wright's tranced mindwarned him that he was being trapped by that hypnoticweb of sound, that he was falling deeper, deeper, intothe Harpers' grip. But he could not break the spell ofthat singing. Soaring singing of the leaf drinking the sun, of thebird on the wing, of the beast warm in its burrow, of theyoung, bright miracle of love, of birth, of living!
And then the song changed. The beauty and joy fadedfrom it, and into the sounds came a note of terror,growing, growing IT came to Simon then that Taras was speaking tothe thing he held, and that the soft eyes of the Harperwere afraid.
The creature's simple mind was sensitive to telepathicimpulses, and Taras was filling its mild emptinesswith thoughts of danger and of pain, so that its membranesshrilled now to a different note.
The other Harpers picked it up. Shivering, vibratingtogether and across each other's rhythms, the threesmall rose-pearl beings flooded the air with a shudderingsound that was the essence of all fear.
Fear of a blind universe that lent its creatures lifeonly to snatch it from them, of the agony and death thatalways and forever must rend the bright fabric of living!
Fear of the somber depths of darkness and paininto which all life must finally descend, of the shadowsthat closed down so fast, so fast! That awful threnody of primal terror that shudderedfrom the Harpers struck icy fingers of dread across theheart. Simon recoiled from it, he could not bear it, heknew that if he heard it long he must go mad.
Only dimly was he aware of the terror among theother councilors, the writhing of their faces, the movementsof their hands. He tried to cry out but his voicewas lost in the screaming of the Harpers, going everhigher and higher until it was torture to the body. And still Taras bent over the Harper, cruel-eyed,driving it to frenzy with the power of his mind.
Andstill the Harpers screamed, and now the sound had risenand part of it had slipped over the threshold of hearing,and the super-sonic notes stabbed the brain like knives. A man bolted past Simon. Another followed, andanother, and then more and more, clawing, trampling,falling, floundering in the madness of panic. And hehimself must flee! He would not flee! Something held him from theflight his body craved — some inner core of thoughthardened and strengthened by his long divorcementfrom the flesh.
It steadied him, made him fight backwith iron resolution, to reality. His shaking hand drew out the little metal box. Theswitch clicked. Slowly, as the power of the thing builtup, it threw out a high, shrill keening sound. It clawed and twisted and broke that singing.
Itbroke it, by its subtle sonic interference, into shriekingdissonances. Simon strode forward, toward the throne and towardTaras. And now into the eyes of Taras had come adeadly doubt. The Harpers, wild and frightened now, stroveagainst the keening sound that broke their song intohideous discord. The shuddering sonic struggle raged,much of it far above the level of hearing, and Simonfelt his body plucked and shaken by terrible vibrations.
He staggered, but he went on. The faces of Tarasand the others were contorted by pain. The king hadfainted on his throne. Storm of shattered harmonies, of splintered sound,shrieked like the very voice of madness around thethrone. Simon, his mind darkening, knew that he couldendure no more And suddenly it was over. Beaten, exhausted, theHarpers stilled the wild vibration of their membranes.
Utterly silent, they remained motionless in the hands oftheir captors, their soft eyes glazed with hopeless terror. Simon laughed. He swayed a little on his feet andsaid to Taras, 'My weapon is stronger than yours! It crawled away and hiditself beneath the throne. Taras whispered, 'Then we must have it from you, Earthman!
On his heels came the others,mad with the bitter fury of defeat when they hadbeen so sure of victory. Simon snatched out the audio-disc and raised it tohis lips, pressing its button and crying out the oneword, 'Hurry!
But not until now, notuntil this moment when fear conquered the force of tradition,could Curt and Otho have entered this forbiddenplace without provoking the very outbreak that must beprevented. Absently, he touched its strings, bringing forth queer, shivering, haunting tones.
The instrument was a twenty-string Venusian guitar, two sets of strings each strung across each other on a metal hemisphere. Few Earthmen could play the complicated thing but Captain Future had a habit of plucking haunting tones from it when he was lost in thought. It projects several laser beams—and a musician plays these by blocking them to produce sounds-reminiscent of a harp.
The laser harp has been popularized by Jean Michel Jarre, and has been a high profile feature of almost all his concerts since British electronic musician Little Boots has used a similar instrument in concerts. The British electro jazz band Alarm feature a laser harp as a main aspect of their live show. DesignUnframed style, also known as 'Infinite Beam' laser harpsThis style of laser harp is generally built using a single laser, splitting its beam into an array of beams in parallel or fan arrangement.
Playing the actual sound is usually handled by connecting the laser harp to a synthesizer, sampler or computer. This frameless design is more elaborate than the framed style, relying on reflecting the light back to a single photodiode.
The fan of laser beams is actually a single beam scanned into a fan pattern. By matching the timing of the reflected beam, the instrument can determine which beam the player is blocking and sound the corresponding note. Alternative designs use multiple lasers. In these designs, each laser can be independently controlled pulsed on and off to simulate playback of prerecorded notes.
Several techniques generate more control data, such as a continuous range of values like those in typical MIDI controllers:An infrared or ultrasonic rangefinder attached to the instrument that determines the position of the hand that blocks a beamA laser-based rangefinder that determines the distance from the hand to the laser's starting or ending point and possibly using this laser itself as the string —or a variation of this that uses the intensity of the sensor signal itselfA camera that tracks position and motion of the laser dot on the hand, or length of the exposed beam if visible, then calculates a continuous value based upon a referenceThe first of these is relatively inexpensive and straightforward to implement, and can use the same micro-controller that drives the lasers and reads the detectors.
The advantage of a dedicated sensor mechanism is that the instrument can be self-contained, as opposed to requiring a computer to control it with input from an ILDA interface and USB camera. The PC-based approach, however, offers more flexibility and can be constructed with mostly off-the-shelf hardware. Unframed laser harps benefit from the use of higher-power lasers, as they facilitate easier detection by the sensor system.
As the sensor is exposed to all ambient light, it can be swamped by stage lighting behind the artist if the sensitivity is too high. To avoid this, the system can use ambient light sensors to reject ambient light. The player may use white or light-coloured gloves to improve performance by scattering more light off the player's hands to provide the sensor with a higher signal-to-noise ratio with respect to ambient light.
Furthermore, the gloves protect the player's skin from potentially hazardous laser radiation and give audiences a more visual impression of the instrument.
Bi-color and full color laser harpsIn the first free full color ILDA laser harp Genesis controller idea and project was born on laserist board and the harpelaser. The last sensor designed rejects ambient light and can measure the hand height in the beams.
It offers the possibility to play on the sound like the pitch, filters; these things were not really available before. The site says, "tickets for these shows are available for free to our customers and fans through competitions.
Their current suing "Get What? Known for his impressive guitar playing abilities and Brit-pop style, Jody Porter first garnered attention in the early 's fronting and writing songs for the then London-based group, The Belltower. After topping the English charts, the band moved back to the States, eventually breaking up in Alternatively, fans will also be able to pre-order the concert on USB stick or as MP3 download in advance via the simfylive.
As CD sales are in steady decline, the alternative of purchasing live recordings digitally, is developing a new revenue stream for rock bands who orchestrating live arena and outdoor festival tours. The Johnny Cash Project sets out to engage fans of the beloved musical icon from around the world in an unprecedented collaborative project: the creation of an ever-evolving music video for the title track of the album.
While I think he had originally intended to work with a living artist, I suggested Johnny Cash; he thought about it and realized that Johnny's passing changed the meaning of the project for the better, and The Johnny Cash Project was born. This last-minute NEMHF appearance is a homecoming of sorts for The Red Chord who hail from nearby Boston and who have played the now-legendary fest five times, starting in This is an ultra rare opportunity for fans to witness The Red Chord at a tiny venue.
Based out of Jacksonville, Fla. Me and Mark is leaps and bounds away from James' other bands and reveals his pop songwriting skills. I think that's why we've gotten such a great response so far.
Plus we're not afraid to say things most are only thinking. The track is now available on the band's site as a free stream and download. Check it out here The band is gearing up for the release of their self-titled second album, which arrives June 1st on Sargent House.
Good Old War's newest release is the result of several winter months spent holed up in a remote house in the Pocono Mountains, where band mates Keith Goodwin, Dan Schwartz and Tim Arnold crafted this earnest, original collection of songs in near-isolation.
He is also an acclaimed photographer whose work has been shown worldwide. The images spotlighted in Love, Graham Nash are ones taken in the s and s, a period that Nash's era-defining artistry helped shape. Portraying friends, family, and fellow musicians, they capture the essence of a momentous time in American culture. Making this musical adventure even more exciting is the accompanying soundtrack of the same name, a collaboration between the author and non-profit partner, the Willie Mae Rock Camp for Girls.
RRB is the fun and inspiring tale of Annabelle Cabrerra's quest to form her own band. But when her parents uproot her from her in-the-middle-of-it-all Brooklyn home and move her to Rhode Island, she feels lost. The band recently entered the studio to record the follow up to 's, "Continent. The band was told they were unable to play the tour kick off on July 12 at House of Blues Orlando, which is on Disney property, due to objectionable lyrical content.
The upbeat "Los Angeloser" offers Meat Loaf's operatic voice and punchy, story-telling lyrics in a way that's both infectious and witty, while visually playing out the main storyline of a soldier recovering from war and having flashes of what his life could be.
0コメント