Fint blogginnlegg til minne om Maurice Sendak, som døde i dag.

Samuel Snoek-Brown

When I was a child, I knew where the wild things were. I was one of them.

When I read Maurice Sendak’s classic book — again and again — as a child, that was one of the most important things I took away from the text. I was a wild terror of a boy, after all. I never got sent to bed without supper, but I certainly got sent to bed, often and deservedly, for being so . . . «rambunctious» was the word my mother used when she was feeling generous. She could just as easily have yelled that I was a «WILD THING!» as Max’s mother does. And I was one.

And I didn’t care that I was annoying my mother, either. Someone might look at my childhood and adolescence and suspect that this was a subtler lesson I learned, whether I knew it or not: that parents…

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Konkylie

Dette albumet hørte jeg på masse i vår da vi bodde i London. Det er en deilig alternativ pop-skive, laget av danske When The Saints go Machine. Jeg får assosiasjoner til Arthur Russell og Hercules and Love Affair. Musikken har fint driv og det er catchy, men aldri på en slitsom opplagt måte. Fine vokalharmonier …