Air: Moon Safari, album by Jean-Benoît Dunckel and Nicolas Godin.

Want to improve your love life? Sleep better at night? Master the essentials of a foreign language? Make more money from the comfort of your very own home? All you need is Air's Moon Safari. You'll dance with handsome strangers to the opiated Euro-disco of "Sexy Boy," woo them with the electric torch song romance of "You Make it Easy" and fall asleep in their arms to the comfortable groove of "Talisman."

OK, maybe Moon Safari won't increase your earning potential, and addressing a Parisian armed only with French song titles from instrumental tracks (the songs with lyrics are in English) may be unwise. But even if becoming a sophisticated continental lounge swinger isn't high on your priority list, this album is a handy lifestyle accessory.

For one thing, it cures hangovers. There's a warmth in Air's funkier tracks ("La Femme D'Argent") that feels like morning sunshine, easing into your tired bones and psyche without unnecessary fuss. The French horn-led "Ce Matin La," meanwhile, is Air's "Let's Go Away for a While," and it's so relaxing it makes Brian Wilson's pet sounds sound like two dogs barking. [No Brian Wilson bashing please...lauren6]

From French easy, rare groove and spare house, Air have fashioned a surprise classic. It's all done with a mixture of nonchalance and striking virtuosity, and it will win over even the most severe francophobe.

Track listing;
1. La femme d'argent 07:09
2. Sexy Boy 03:47
3. All I Need (feat. Beth Hirsch) 04:19
4. Kelly Watch the Stars 04:36
5. Talisman 04:16
6. Remember 02:34
7. You Make It Easy (feat. Beth Hirsch) 04:01
8. Ce matin-là 03:38
9. New Star in the Sky (Chanson pour Solal) 05:40
10. Le voyage de Pénélope 03:39

Album credits;

moon safari - album credits
Marlon Drums
David Whitaker Director, Orchestra Director, Orchestral Arrangements
Michael F. Mills Design
Air Main Performer
Stephane "Alf" Briat Handclapping, Engineer, Mixing
Jean-Benoît Dunckel Organ, Piano, Glockenspiel, Choir, Chorus, Moog Synthesizer, Engineer, Wurlitzer, Fender Rhodes, Solina, Vocoder, Korg Synthesizer, Mellotron, Syrinx, Chant, Producer, Handclapping, Clavinet, Vocals (Background)
Nicolas Godin Organ, Guitar (Acoustic), Bass, Guitar (Electric), Mini Moog, Wurlitzer, Talk Box, Solina, Vocoder, Shaker, Korg Synthesizer, Syrinx, Producer, Handclapping, Moog Synthesizer, Choir, Chorus, Vocals (Background), Tambourine, Glockenspiel, Drums, Percussion, Engineer, Harmonica
Nilesh "Nilz" Patel Mastering
Beth Hirsch Vocals, Choir, Chorus, Chant, Performer
Caroline L. Handclapping
P. Woodcock Guitar (Acoustic), Tuba
Eric Regert Organ
Jérôme Kerner Assistant Engineer
Peter Cobbin Engineer

A cavalcade of analog synthesizers, organs, electric pianos, and processed voices populate Moon Safari, a thoroughly appealing, otherworldly debut album from Air. Where most of their dance contemporaries push the boundaries of trip-hop or jungle, Air blends Euro-dance with new wave. Any futuristic element on their album feels strangely outdated, since they're borrowed from the early '80s, which gives their music an odd, out-of-time feeling. The waves of gurgling synths beneath the spacious, colorful chords and melodies give the impression that the music is floating in space. For all the atmospherics and layers of synths, there's a distinct pop sense to Moon Safari that makes it accessible and damn near irresistible. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide

Analog, aquatic, bulbous, blue, breathy, cloudscraper, crystal, casio, dewy, deliquescent, dulcet, ethereal, effervescent, elastic, French, floating, grassy, gravity, groove, hotel, holograph, Holland, indiglo, Iceland, ingenuous, Japanese, jingle, juicy, kitsch, kitchen, kissing, lounge, lazy, liquid, moog, mood, martini, naughty, nylon, nymph, organic, oval, plastic, pompous, Parisian, quasar, quondam, quixotic, retro, rococo, robot, synthetic, synth, sylvan, terrycloth, tinsel, tea-time, underwear, underground, universe, viscous, vaporous, velvety, wet, wanton, waterfall, xylophone, xenogenic, X-chromosome, young-eyed, yacht, yester, zipper, zestful, zodiac rock drips like sugary dew and melted cheese from every second of Moon Safari. Close your eyes on an Antonini film and open them on "2001."

Air is the perfect background music for minimalist architecture design, shagging up against a tree in a field of sunflowers, waiting in line for "Space Mountain," drinking gin upstairs in a 747 (circa 1974), and '60s Swedish industrial documentaries. This disc is a bit too cheeky for daily consumption, but fits in nicely next to your Stereolab, and Pizzicato Five CDs. Play this on Valentine's Day for your sweetie and go to work Monday with band-aids on your back.

-Brent DiCrescenzo, 1998

“A wise old owl sat on an oak; The more he saw the less he spoke; The less he spoke the more he heard; Why aren't we like that wise old bird?

The Owl is impressive, without question, they offer something quite different to anyone who meets them in whatever circumstance, and their eerie-sounding cries can send many a shiver up otherwise steadfast spines.
The ancient Romans disliked them intensely, because they were thought to be harbingers of death and other dark omens, while the Greeks, on the other hand, considered them a good omen. For example, an owl flying over a Greek army at the dawn of battle insured victory.
Conversely, in England, though, it was believed that if a person looked into an owl’s nest, they would suffer depression for the rest of their life.

Like bats, owls fly best by night and will feed on rodents and other small animals and have tremendous value in their measured feeding/pest control.

But it is the Owls appearance which will strike fear or uncertainty into the hardest of souls if unannounced as the birds have large eyes that are unmovable, a round gargoyle-like face, and two tufts of head feathers that resemble horns. And because of this startling visage, our ancestors considered owls to be creatures of mystery with hundreds of superstitions existing, and folklore surrounds the owl like a cloak.

The Celts told the story of a beautiful woman named Blodeuwedd who was fashioned out of flowers. She was created to marry a lonely man cursed to have no human wife. But Blodeuwedd fell in love with another man and she killed her husband. The victim was then brought back to life and, as vengeance, the faithless Blodeuwedd was turned into an owl.

Owls were also considered capable of magic as seen in "Macbeth", William Shakespeare’s three witches use an owlet’s wing as a charm.
Witches in ancient Rome used a screech owl’s feather as part of a potion, while in Greece it was believed that if a child was given an owl’s egg, it would never become a drunkard during their lifetime.

Other than having magic properties, a owl was also thought to be one of the wisest of all birds. The slave Aesop told the story of an owl who knew a great deal more than he was ever given credit for.

The wise old owl told the birds that when the acorn first began to sprout, to pull it all up out of the ground and not allow it to grow. He said acorns would produce mistletoe, from which bird-lime would be extracted, and they would accordingly be captured.

The owl next advised them pick up flax seed as it was a plant which would do them no good, the owl then seeing an archer approach, predicted that the man would invent darts armed with feathers which would fly faster than the birds who in turn gave no credence to these warnings, believing the owl crazy. However, afterwards, finding his words were true, they became awestruck by his knowledge and reckoned him to be the wisest of birds. So when the owl appeared the birds sought his advice, which he no longer gave, but rather bemoaning their past folly.

The owl is the watchman of the night, and by day it lives in the trees or in buildings. Sometimes the presence of an owl can make someone think a ghost is lurking nearby.

There are a lot of superstitions associated with owls. Here are a few of them:

If an owl lands on the roof of your house, it is an omen of death. Constant hooting near your house also foretells death.

If an owl hoots at the moment of childbirth, the child will have an unhappy life.

The Irish believe that if an owl flies into a house it must be killed immediately. If it escapes, it will take the luck of the house with it.

If an owl nests in an abandoned house, then the dwelling must be haunted. An owl is the only creature who can abide a ghost.

By eating salted owl, a person can be cured of gout.

If an owl hoots during a burial service, the deceased is bound to rise from the grave and haunt the living.

An owl living in the attic of a house will cause a pregnant woman to miscarry.

If a pregnant woman hears the shriek of an owl, her child will be a girl.

The hooting of an owl,
Says the weather will be foul.

To counter evil owls people put irons in their fires. Or threw salt, hot peppers or vinegar into the fire, in doing so the owl will get a sore tongue, hoot no more, and no one close to you will be in trouble. When you hear an owl, take off your clothes, turn them inside out and put them back on. You might not want to do this if you are in public.

Another superstition is that any man who eats roasted owl will be obedient and a slave to his wife.

The Bat that flits at close of Eve
Has left the Brain that won't believe.
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbeliever's fright.
-William Blake

In the midst of teaching, I had a bolt of musical lightning, illuminations and pains, exultations and teastains, the music that could change a day, just by it's very aura, the power of sound, music and words, gave me this simple list.

Songs that change the atmosphere, with no precedent;

This list is purely for the affect each song has, when heard, in altering everything at that moment, and the ensuing hours, whether you love or loath the particular tune. The songs which are totally set apart from almost all others.
Have you any others to add?
(There are perhaps 2 or 300 that I could have included here, but it is not meant to be simple 'favourites' nor particularly serious, just some fun~~)

God Only Knows: Beach Boys (1966)
A Day in the Life: Beatles (1967)
Hurdy Gurdy Man: Donovan (1968)
SOS: Abba (1975)
Magic Fly: Space (1977: French electronic band created by Didier Marouani)
I Feel Love: Donna Summer (1977)
Lovely Day: Bill Withers (1977)
Guns of Brixton: Clash (1979)
Ashes to Ashes: David Bowie (1980)
Fade to Grey: Visage (1980)
How Soon is Now?: Smiths (1984)
Pride (In the Name of Love): U2 (1984)
Fools Gold: Stone Roses (1989)
Crazy: Seal (1991)
Higher Than the Sun: Primal Scream (1991)
Papua New Guinea: Future Sound of London (1992)
Creep: Radiohead (1993)
Live Forever: Oasis (1994)
Island: Heather Nova (1994)
Overcome and Aftermath: Tricky (vocals, Martine) (1995)
Children: Robert Miles (1995)
Setting Sun: Chemical Brothers (1996)
Breathe and Firestarter: Prodigy (1996)
Weeping Willow: Verve (1997)
Angel and Risingson: Massive Attack (1998)
Southern Sun: Oakenfold (Vocals by Carla Werner) (2002)
God is a Beckham (BBC World Cup Theme): Faithless (2002)

The Tree That Survived the Winter by Mary Fahy

The tree awakened earlier than usual one morning and stretched her arms toward the horizon as if to invite the early rays of dawn into her world. She shivered with delight, wiggling her roots in the muddy earth, which had only recently yielded its frozen hardness.

She sensed something was different. Her roots seemed to be extending further and more firmly into the soil. Her arms seemed to embrace more of the world, not with the timid gestures of a sapling afraid of tangling with the wind, but with the freedom of knowing that the wind could not topple her.

"I have survived the winter!" she marveled aloud.

"How wonderful," whispered the dawn, who had a facility for appreciating new miracles no matter how often they occurred. She swirled around the tree in a ritual of blessing, enveloping her gently, making her feel very special.

"How very different this feels," mused the tree, for a few short weeks ago the melting earth beneath her roots had sent shivers of panic through every single branch, She had cried out in alarm then, sensing that she might sink into the earth] and lose herself. often during the cold winter...., while she had trembled with anxiety she had felt an inner voice -- a small but steady voice -- which remained fluid and alive when everything else in her seemed paralyzed.

But now -- now! -- she was filled with the realization that her inner life was in harmony with the world outside. She relaxed the tight fibers of her being which she had unwittingly held rigid during the cold gray months.

"I have survived the winter!" she exulted.

"You have survived the winter!" the birds echoed, hopping eagerly from branch to branch, bouncing on the tender extensions of herself that the tree had not even noticed.

"Oh!"

This one word, spoken softly and reverently, was all the tree could manage as she examined the white buds beginning to show through the tips of her branches, once held hard-clenched against the winter winds.

"I have survived the winter," the tree sighed, "and I have grown!"

Days passed, and the energy within her fairly exploded, spilling out into dusters of lovely blossoms. She watched each day as they grew larger and more beautiful.

Spring rains showered her with congratulations and encouragement. "You have survived the winter and you are growing, growing, growing..."

"Growing! Yes, I am growing," the tree acknowledged. "I have survived the winter and I am growing." She shivered with delight as she admired her new appearance, letting a few raindrops fall on the violets that enjoyed the shelter of her trunk. "It is good to be alive," she told them.

"Indeed," said the sun, appearing suddenly from behind a rain cloud, "you have survived the winter because you are very much loved!"

The tree could feel the warmth of the smiling sun penetrate deep into her branches, even through the bark of her trunk. But then she stopped. For the memory of the hard winter sent through her a stab of anger and pain that she thought the spring had healed.

"Where were you when I needed you?" she cried to the sun. I needed you! I needed you so badly and you weren't there," she sobbed. "You've been gone so long, and I've been so cold and lonely and scared. The days were so gray when you weren't there, and even when I could see you in the distance I couldn't feel your warmth or seem to reach you with my voice. Didn't you see me shivering? I became so brittle I was afraid of breaking, and my roots became paralyzed in the earth.

She could no longer go on except to cry out: "...and I missed you-- terribly!"

The sun's glow only intensified and the message was repeated. "You have survived the winter because you are very much loved."

The sun continued. "The chills and ice and bitter cold have toughened your timber to just the right degree, for you needed to be strong to carry the fruit that will appear on your branches. If I had stayed close all winter, you would not have grown this strong. But now -- just look at you!

A blush of pink coursed through her petals. The tree stood speechless.

You have survived the winter because you are, and were, and always will be very much loved," said the sun. "For that small place deep within you that remained unfrozen and open to mystery, that is where I have made my dwelling. And long, long before you felt my warmth surrounding you, you were being freed and formed from within in ways so deep and profound that you could not possibly know what was happening."

"I...I...I had hope," she whispered, noticing that the words seemed to come from that inner space deep within her.

"Yes, you had hope," sparkled the sun. You trusted in life and that is what enabled you to grow. For if you had no hope and trust in the center of your being, you could not have blossomed into you."

This was almost too much joy for the tree to hear. No words would come, and no words were necessary.

Weeks passed and the tree became a part of life in the meadow. She caught the kites of children who gathered nearby, and happily tossed them back gain.

"You are a good sport," they said to her. "We will call you Friend."

A young couple sat in the shade of her thickening leaves and spoke of their love for one another. "This is a special place," they said, and they left their initials on her toughened bark.

"We shall call you Keeper of Secrets," they said to her.

A tired woman, bent with care, walked silently through the meadow, oblivious to everything except her own worries. She did not notice the tree.

"Come and rest for a while," whispered the tree, but she finally had to toss a piece of fruit onto the path before the woman saw her. Wearily, the woman sat and ate the fruit, and pondered deeply. The tree could feel the woman relax as she rested against her trunk.

Finally the woman stood up. "Thank you," she said and embraced the tree.

The tree winced, for the woman had touched a spot that had not healed from the winter's ravages -- a spot that remained vulnerable even though the spring and summer months had been good to her. The woman seemed to notice and caressed the spot thoughtfully. At that moment there was a oneness -- a sense of understanding between the troubled woman and the free.

"I will call you Hope," whispered the woman, and touched her again with affection and gratitude.

Long after her fruit had been shared and she began noticing touches of scarlet in her leaves, the tree still carried deep within her the memories of all her experiences.

"Who could possibly have imagined all that has happened to me?" she said to no one in particular.

And then addressing herself to the sun, she said, "...except you!"

"Have you seen? Have you heard?" she asked eagerly. "I am needed! I am wanted! I am named! Aren't they beautiful names? I am called Friend, and Keeper of Secrets, and Hope."

"Indeed," replied the sun, splashing a smile across the evening sky. "And what is the name I have given you?"

"You named me?" the tree asked, astonished at her lack of awareness. "Long before you were a seedling," the sun replied solemnly. "What do you call me?" she asked. Watching the sun slide behind the farthest hill, she stood motionless, waiting in the promise of the newly-painted sky.

"What do you call me?" she asked again in the stillness of the night. The small voice from within said,"You are called Faithful."

"You are called Faithful" blinked the evening star, as if to reassure her.

Benediction
The conclusion is always the same;
love is the most powerful,
and still the most unknown energy
of the world.
-Pierre Tejihard de Chardin"

When letting-go means looking-forward
and thinking ahead neglects looking-back
we'll strive hand-in-hand toward
loves lost lands away from all the flak

So Sven says such media pressure and stories could 'only happen in this country' and I'm inclined to agree with him.
I am not going to blog in defence of his actions, but I would like to say that first and foremost Sven is a football manager, and not the Prime Minister!
He is being hounded and maltreated with more vigour than anyone deserves, EVEN as England manager.
With the greatest respect our PM has been guilty of far worse crimes against not only this nation's people but others too, yet Sven is the headline maker, the media's chief castigator, and now, the victim.

Yes, he has made a few public hiccups, indeed, who wouldn't, but I again emphasise that he is a football manager and not a politician, it thus reveals how the pendulum has swung so hysterically in this country. I very much doubt that there is anyone else around at present who could do much better than Sven at managing some very overpaid but talented England players.
True, Stuart Pearce would instill more steel and passion, Gus Hiddink more cut-throat attitudes, but Sven, with a little luck, got us through to a second successive World Cup finals, as he did for Euro 2004 in Portugal.
I don't have to defend his qualification record, it is among the best of any England manager in history...please spare a thought for this fact.
Ron Greenwood got us through by the skin of our (his) teeth in 1981 to reach Spain82, Bobby Robson too, fell over the line for the 1986 and 1990 finals, whereas Graham Taylor failed completely. Yet today, Sir Bobby and amiable Graham Taylor are very well-respected pundits, and Sir Bobby is having a second shot in Eire. Everyone has such short memories.

My main point is that the English media and the F.A. have handled the Sven situation appallingly. Have they no self-respect? Obviously not.
For such a prestigious national game, England should not only look within for the next manager, but within themselves for some lessons on dignity and public relations once more. How can they expect the best when they never produce their best?
It is fortunate indeed that Sven, for all his faults, will carry-on at all...could you imagine managers past tolerating this episode...Bill Shankly, Tommy Docherty, Sir Alex even...Kevin Keegan would have walked out, oh, sorry, that's been done before.

Sven has made errors of judgement, both on and off the field, but, he still retains more dignity than the FA in my view, and in the longrun, Sven's reputation will grow with time, which sadly is seen as blinkered by the hysterical masses. What other European nation would create this friction just months before a major finals???
It's a grave error.

Frankly, the way the Premiership and the helm of the England national team, the FA are going, it paints a bleak picture.
Awash with money, devoid of dignity.

Colour: red, white and blue...of course! Whatever happens, I'm right behind England to win the World Cup!
Music: Supergrass: Bullet

As pure as things clearly are not
such distaste leaves me cold
my back turned positivity begot
abstractions descend upon the merry fold

words within pass effortlessly without undue speech
I don't talk presently; I don't wish to
need not, as surrounds bound to teach
mouth falling silent, eyes closed landing a clue

inspired by knowledge driven by curiosity
a journey started with fears dispelled
of life, love and nature's propensity
head, heart and soul are thus compelled