MemoToVerve
Just Memos from Me.
MemoToVerve
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memotoverve:

This is not a gig review because this a completely bias account of a spine-tingling experience watching one of my favourite artists perform; Frank Ocean.

Summer in London, Wireless music festival. It was one of those unusual weeks in London where blue skies reigned, sun baked the concrete and men, both young and old, skinny and fat, felt it acceptable to walk down their local high street shirtless.

Unprepared for such Mediterranean temperatures, jeans and a sleeveless silk shirt were probably not the best clothing choices to make when waiting in a dusty, sweaty tent for Frank to arrive. Still, clothing amendments were made by creating a crop top and rolling up my jeans. Two hours early and with determination to push through the 
crowds, I got to the front barrier. 

I must admit I was anxious. When you listen to your favourite albums daily - on the tube, at home, in a contemplative mood, in a party mood - you don’t want to be disappointed with the real artist in front of you. 

And I wasn’t. Frank’s music appeals to me because it’s cinematic. I’m transported to a feeling, a place, a time dependant on the song. And it was the same during the performance: blue lights filtered from the stage with a video of a car driving endlessly filled the stage background.

Though seemingly shy, Frank’s voice and lyrics commanded the stage and his audience were entranced. It must have been an experience for the singer to hear a tent full of people singing his stories word for word.

Pyramids was played in full, it’s raw rifts filling the tent, taking the crowd through 9 minutes of seedy, sexy and thrilling musical narrative. Other highlights included Acura integral and Forrest Gump concluding with Sweet Life, the perfect soundtrack to a hazy summer in London.

Thanks Frank, for an experience that lived up I my expectations and made for an incredible summer’s day.
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This is not a gig review because this a completely bias account of a spine-tingling experience watching one of my favourite artists perform; Frank Ocean.

Summer in London, Wireless music festival. It was one of those unusual weeks in London where blue skies reigned, sun baked the concrete and men, both young and old, skinny and fat, felt it acceptable to walk down their local high street shirtless.

Unprepared for such Mediterranean temperatures, jeans and a sleeveless silk shirt were probably not the best clothing choices to make when waiting in a dusty, sweaty tent for Frank to arrive. Still, clothing amendments were made by creating a crop top and rolling up my jeans. Two hours early and with determination to push through the 
crowds, I got to the front barrier. 

I must admit I was anxious. When you listen to your favourite albums daily - on the tube, at home, in a contemplative mood, in a party mood - you don’t want to be disappointed with the real artist in front of you. 

And I wasn’t. Frank’s music appeals to me because it’s cinematic. I’m transported to a feeling, a place, a time dependant on the song. And it was the same during the performance: blue lights filtered from the stage with a video of a car driving endlessly filled the stage background.

Though seemingly shy, Frank’s voice and lyrics commanded the stage and his audience were entranced. It must have been an experience for the singer to hear a tent full of people singing his stories word for word.

Pyramids was played in full, it’s raw rifts filling the tent, taking the crowd through 9 minutes of seedy, sexy and thrilling musical narrative. Other highlights included Acura integral and Forrest Gump concluding with Sweet Life, the perfect soundtrack to a hazy summer in London.

Thanks Frank, for an experience that lived up I my expectations and made for an incredible summer’s day.
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Riga Market. Latvia. Beautiful place.
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umutyildirim:

Modigliani and Picasso
umutyildirim:

Modigliani and Picasso
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cosascool:

Massimo Listri
cosascool:

Massimo Listri
cosascool:

Massimo Listri
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Nadja
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YES.
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peter doig: the outsider comes home
by stuart jeffries
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