☆ 刺刺蝟的進化論 ☆

 
這是我開始喜歡小范的那張專輯裡頭的第二主打歌。雖然這支MV中的他帥到爆表，但由於整首歌的F.I.R指數也爆表，所以我並沒有很喜歡。一直到去年有人說，他在海角七號以前唯一聽過的小范的歌，是某個電玩遊戲的主題曲，我回家找，才知道是這首
 
昨晚八九點走在市民大道回家 (途中卻巧遇孫姐結果被抓去喝酒...) 的路上，突然想起這首歌。

In August '02, I was sitting in an air-conditioned studio, watching my boyfriend and his band struggle with this melody for over 20 minutes.
 
In February '09, this song came back to me in a MSN dialogue that got me through another night of OT.
 

Both Sides Now
She insists that only music moves her, but A-MEI is a Taiwanese voice reverberating in China
All A-Mei wants to do is sing, sweetheart, use that smoke 'n' sugar voice of hers to deliver a tune. The Taiwanese pop star doesn't much care about lyrics, just the mood-ring colors her music conjures up. Today, sitting in a candle-filled studio in Taipei where she's recording her next album, A-Mei is straining for a color, and she has the precise shade in mind. The background music is low funk, and A-Mei hums her way up the spectrum, eyes closed, past turquoise, sapphire and lapis lazuli. No words, just a husky voice scatting along until it settles into the perfect note—a sultry, soulful shade you would see at midnight.
"Did I make you feel blue, baby?" A-Mei opens her round eyes and fixes them on her guitarist. "Because I want you to feel like you've been swallowed up by blueness." The guitarist assures A-Mei that he does indeed feel that particular shade, not least because he's been caught in the A-Mei vortex—a sexy, impish gaze that leaves men feeling, well, a little blushed. "Mission accomplished," she says, leaning forward to blow out a candle. "Tomorrow I want to sing red, the color of a cut when it first bleeds. And after that, green, like wet grass."
But music is not just an abstraction in A-Mei's world: it's one of the great uniters of China and the little renegade island it half despises and very much wants to absorb—A-Mei's native Taiwan. When a Taiwanese singer evolves into a pop star, his or her main audience is across the strait in megalopolises and villages throughout the vast mainland. Fame and popularity have proved that to A-Mei. What the 29-year-old singer has also learned is that what unites can divide, that her songs can acquire shades of meaning she never intends, that a mere song can hurt, alienate, maybe cause a war when, as W.H. Auden wrote, " ... each ear/ Is listening to its hearing, so none hear." "I just want to sing," says A-Mei. "But everyone keeps connecting my music to the future of Taiwan and China." And that's how it's going to be: music joins the sundered parts of Greater China. Someone—in this case A-Mei—has to sing the songs.
A-Mei was born in the rugged mountains of eastern Taiwan, as a tribal princess of the Puyuma clan of aborigines. Making up just 2% of the island's population, Taiwan's aborigines have been reduced to kitschy tribal song and dance at ethnic theme parks. City folk disparage them as drunks and hookers—the disenfranchised underbelly of Taiwan. But historically, the Puyuma have always used song to communicate their deepest feelings, and A-Mei sang the loudest of all, quickly rising from small-time ethnic performer to pop-chart diva for the entire Chinese-speaking world. Proud of her native roots, A-Mei incorporated tribal rhythms into some of her pop songs, like Sister, which celebrates the matriarchal aboriginal society.
A-Mei's career coincided with a growing sense that the island was not merely a temporary shelter for the exiled officials who lost the Chinese civil war in 1949, but a permanent nation called Taiwan. As a member of an ethnic minority whose ancestors had lived on Taiwan for generations, A-Mei was scooped up by independence-minded folks as an icon of Taiwan's separate identity. Even though her hits were about all the usual pop topics—romance, relationships, heartbreak—she quickly came to represent much more than cheesy love songs. In 2000, at the height of her popularity, when she had just signed a fat contract to represent Sprite on the mainland and her songs ranked No. 1 on Beijing radio, A-Mei received an unprecedented honor. Chen Shui-bian had won the presidency and his Democratic Progressive Party had traditionally been pro-independence. Chen asked her to sing Taiwan's anthem at his inauguration. Even though she knew all the words from childhood, A-Mei practiced hundreds of times. Her solemn rendition that morning had none of the youthful pizazz of her pop concerts, and she traded her navel-grazing tank tops for a somber purple gown. This was A-Mei, Taiwanese singer, all grown up.
If A-Mei's performance was a milestone for independence-minded compatriots, it was also a touchstone for mainland Chinese. Furious at the fresh-faced pop star for connecting herself with separatist Taiwanese, China banned her from visiting the mainland. Under pressure from Beijing, Sprite buckled and cut its contract, replacing A-Mei with mainland Olympic diver Fu Mingxia. The Taiwanese icon had successfully toured China during the height of cross-strait tensions just a year earlier; suddenly she found herself completely unwelcome. "All of this fuss because of one song," says A-Mei. "I honestly had no idea it would turn out this way."
A-Mei was banned for more than a year before China allowed her to stage concerts again. Her re-emergence was also due to politics. Eager to win the bid for the 2008 Olympics, Beijing wanted to show the world that China could be generous. So on July 13, 2001, A-Mei was back in the mainland, singing to a truly jubilant crowd in the western city of Chongqing; just minutes before, her audience had been told that Beijing's Olympic bid had succeeded. "Singing at the moment was such an honor for me," she says, recalling the excited chaos as hundreds of People's Liberation Army soldiers held back the frenzied masses. "It was as exciting as when I was singing at ... " A-Mei breaks off and looks down. Her agent has warned the press not to ask about the fateful performance at Chen's inaugural, and A-Mei has almost broken the embargo herself. A few seconds later, she looks up again and smiles. "It was as exciting as that time in Taipei," she says, knowing you'll know exactly what she means. Then she adds, "I've been able to experience so many exciting moments in Chinese history. For a girl from the mountains, there's no bigger joy."
Such comments—not savvy political lines but simple emotional reflections—are what endear A-Mei to her fans. She has no Whitney Houston attitude and is content to sit at a fold-up table sharing a meal of fatty pork and home-style bean curd with recording-studio mates. Like most Taiwanese, she would rather get on with life than talk endlessly about identity: Puyuma, Taiwanese, Chinese, who cares? And when she is really stuck for a word or a phrase or a thought, she simply tosses her head back and throws out a tune. Because, for the tribal daughter and proud Taiwanese, music is what sustains her. Above all else, A-Mei was born to sing, just sing.

 
昨天和蔡阿姨去The Wall聽法國文化協會主辦的「法蘭西˙浪漫˙新香頌之夜」
Coralie Clement & Berry--兩個據說在台灣小有名氣但我還真的沒聽說過的法國女歌手，

2009. 1 | 陳綺貞【太陽】

演唱會演唱會!!!!
 

就跟沒幾個女人會覺得陳冠希不帥是一樣的道理
沒幾個人(不論男女)會說Robbie Williams不性感 
 

I don't wanna talk
About the things we've gone through
Though it's hurting me
Now it's history
I've played all my cards
And that's what you've done too
Nothing more to say
No more ace to play
The winner takes it all
The loser standing small
Beside the victory
That's her destiny
I was in your arms
Thinking I belonged there
I figured it made sense
Building me a fence
Building me a home
Thinking I'd be strong there
But I was a fool
Playing by the rules
The gods may throw a dice
Their minds as cold as ice
And someone way down here
Loses someone dear
The winner takes it all
The loser has to fall
Its simple and its plain
Why should I complain
But tell me does she kiss
Like I used to kiss you?
Does it feel the same
When she calls your name?
Somewhere deep inside
You must know I miss you
But what can I say
Rules must be obeyed
The judges will decide
The likes of me abide
Spectators of the show
Always staying low
The game is on again
A lover or a friend
A big thing or a small
The winner takes it all
I don't wanna talk
If it makes you feel sad
And I understand
You've come to shake my hand
I apologize
If it makes you feel bad
Seeing me so tense
No self-confidence
But you see
The winner takes it all
The winner takes it all......

地點是城市某個角落　時間在午夜時刻
無聊的人常在這裡出沒　交換一種寂寞
我靜靜坐在你的身後　你似乎只想沈默
我猜我們的愛情已到盡頭　無話可說
比爭吵更折磨　不如就分手
放我一個人生活　請你雙手不要再緊握
一個人我至少乾淨俐落
淪落就淪落　愛闖禍就闖禍
我也放你一個人生活
你知道就算繼續結果還是沒結果
又何苦還要繼續遷就
愛的時候　說過的承諾
愛過以後　就不要強求
從此分手　不必再回頭　各自生活
曾經孤單加上孤單是愛火
燃燒過你和我
如今沈默加上沈默更沈默
再沒有什麼捨不得
放我一個人生活　請你雙手不要再緊握
一個人我至少乾淨俐落
淪落就淪落　愛闖禍就闖禍
我也放你一個人生活
你知道就算繼續結果還是沒結果
就彼此放生　彼此留下活口

梁靜茹的歌，幾乎都是在KTV裡學會的。

 

高中時，開始與三五好友在段考後的下午去錢櫃唱歌，
而那時候總是佔據著國語排行榜前三名的歌曲，
就是前奏好長好長，長到大家都不耐煩想切歌換下一首的「勇氣」。

這次的超級星光大道終於有人挑戰這首很難唱得好聽的歌了
但因為這位黃姓參賽者以獨樹一格的"男人女聲"著稱  所以有被感動到  
合聲雖然好像有時候沒合到但是瑕不掩瑜了我覺得
好久不見的Shino也好可愛  希望她已走出酒駕肇事的陰霾
很期待她下禮拜和Soler合辦的演唱會!!
(雖然地點是我不喜歡的台北國際會議中心.... 話說台北有哪個地方是我認為適合辦演唱會的 XD)
"心動"這首歌對我有很特殊的意義
但會讓我哭的原因並非因為這首歌是分手歌  
其實完全相反  是因為它算是定情歌...
"心動"是我和高中男友在一起後去看的第一部電影
(我還記得那次是去離我高中最近的學者看的  
他特地從建中趕過來  之後還自己坐公車回位於土城的家... Orz)
他是社團辦寒假營隊時和我同一小隊的  我倒追了八個月(高一春假~高二聖誕節)才在一起   而且還半路出現情敵...
其實我喜歡一個人的時候好像還滿明顯的  就算我沒親口證實  也會被旁人看得一清二楚
到了升高二的暑假  我們兩個的事只要是同社團的幹部就算是不同校也都知道
"啊建中的公關和中山的社長已經曖昧很~~~久了 不知道在ㄍㄧㄥ什麼..."
但他就硬是拖到聖誕節才跟我告白  還是用email!!! -_-
更爛的是  那封email的主文是在講別的事情  我根本沒看到最後一句
導致都一起去跨過年還走到總統府升完旗回家睡了一覺後
他打電話來問我"所以妳要給我答案嗎?"我整個clueless... XD
但後來就約好考完第三次段考的下午去看"心動"
當年的Shino是以"煩" "她的眼淚"等歌打響名號的女rocker
很難得聽她唱抒情歌  但是"心動"從一出來就成了她的代表作  一直到現在還是
而且不管是曲或詞都寫得很催淚...
另外Aerosmith的"I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing"和王力宏的"Forever Love"也都是每聽必哭的歌
因為都有各自的特殊含義
不過這四五年來好像每次去唱歌都沒有人唱過...
(大概是難度太高了哈哈  這兩首是真的會唱歌的人才敢唱啊 :P)
話說回來
我交往過的對象好像真的都很喜歡聽我唱歌...  *羞*
高中男友最愛聽我唱李玟的"過完冬季"
大學男友最愛聽我唱Christina Aguilera的"I Turn to You"
(反倒是女生朋友比較會叫我唱阿妹的歌...)
矮唷  我真的不敢說自己的歌聲有多動聽呀
也許是因為  我這人不愛也不是很會說話
所以就只好唱歌囉~
但如果我唱歌真的有那麼會"放電"的話我是否該去找個Pub駐唱一下 XD