Ja, auch ich mag das Interview eben weil nicht übersetzt wurde und er sehr glaubhaft und natürlich rüberkommt.

Wer’s als download sucht gehe zu MaryKir’s Hugh Laurie Clip & Cap Archive – Non-House Interviews & News

thanx for this one to ariesnake as well :lächeln:

Also die CD werd ich mir auf jeden Fall auch kaufen! Gar keine Frage!
Aber weiß denn jemand etwas über dieses Fotobuch?
Let Them Talk (Limited Edition inkl. Fotobuch / exklusiv bei Amazon.de): Hugh Laurie: Amazon.de: Musik
Was für Fotos? Wie viele? Lohnt sich das?
Das würde mich wirklich mal interessieren, was genau sich dahinter verbirgt.

@Dharma 1092783 wrote:

Also die CD werd ich mir auf jeden Fall auch kaufen! Gar keine Frage!
Aber weiß denn jemand etwas über dieses Fotobuch?
Let Them Talk (Limited Edition inkl. Fotobuch / exklusiv bei Amazon.de): Hugh Laurie: Amazon.de: Musik
Was für Fotos? Wie viele? Lohnt sich das?
Das würde mich wirklich mal interessieren, was genau sich dahinter verbirgt.

Ich hab‘ mir das Buch+CD vor weniger als einer Minute selbst bestellt.
Ich hab’s erst bei hughlaurieblues.com (wo es am billigsten war!) gesehen und dann auf amazon.uk bei letzterem steht das das Fotobuch ungefähr (ich bin mir nichtmehr sicher) vierzig Seiten hat…

@Kathrina 1092795 wrote:

Die Frage kann ich dir erst am 9. Mai beantworten. Frühestens. Dann sollte ich meine bekommen.

Bei mir stand, dass es bereits schon am 4.Mai geliefert werden kann. Also das da schätzungsweise mein Päckchen schon da ist.. :verwirrt_2:

Ich hab meins jetzt auch bestellt, aber auf Amazon.
Natürlich mit Fotobuch, sonst würde es sich kaum lohnen, da ich das Album auch schon auf iTunes gekauft habe:Augenrollen:
Bin schon total gespannt!!

Das Fotobuch ist angekommen! Einfach großartig :happy:

Hier noch ein Review zu seinem letzten Auftritt: Hugh Laurie at Cheltenham Jazz Festival

Hier sein Vorwort:

I was not born in Alabama in the 1890s. You may as well know this now. I’ve never eaten grits, cropped a share, or ridden a boxcar. No gypsy woman attended my birth and there’s no hellhound on my trail, as far as I’m aware. Let this record show that I am a white, middle-class Englishman, openly trespassing on the music and myth of the American south.

If that weren’t bad enough, I’m also an actor: one of those pampered ninnies who can’t find his way through an airport without a babysitter. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that I’ve got some Chinese characters tattooed on my arse. Or elbow. Same thing.

Worst of all, I’ve broken an important rule of art, music, and career paths: actors are supposed to act, and musicians are supposed to music. That’s how it works. You don’t buy fish from a dentist, or ask a plumber for financial advice, so why listen to an actor’s music?

The answer is – there is no answer. If you care about pedigree then you should try elsewhere, because I have nothing in your size.

I started piano lessons at the age of 6 with Mrs Hare. She was a nice woman, probably, but in my childhood memory I have turned her into a sadistic bruiser who prodded me across the hot coals of do-re-mi. I stuck it for about three months, crawling through Elementary Piano Book One towards the oasis of Swanee River – hardly a blues song, I know, but a lot closer than the French lullabies and comical Polish dances that made up the rest of that hellish book.

The day finally arrived, and Mrs Hare turned the page: “Swanee River”, she read, peering through the pince-nez that I have imagined for her, 45 years later. And then, with a curl of her hairy lip, she read the subtitle: “ ‘Negro Spiritual – Slightly Syncopated.’ Oh dear me no…..”

With that, she flicked the page to Le Tigre Et L’Elephant, or some other prissy nightmare, and my relationship with formal music instruction ended.

And then one day a song came on the radio – I’m pretty sure it was I Can’t Quit You Baby by Willie Dixon – and my whole life changed. A wormhole opened between the minor and major third, and I stepped through into Wonderland. Since then, the blues have made me laugh, weep, dance… well, this is a family record, and I can’t tell you all the things the blues can make me do.

At the centre of this magical new kingdom, high on a hill (which shows you how little I knew back then), stood the golden city of New Orleans. In my imagination, it just straight hummed with music, romance, joy, despair; its rhythms got into my gawky English frame and, at times, made me so happy, and sad, I just didn’t know what to do with myself. New Orleans was my Jerusalem.

Over the next decade, I ate up all the guitarists I could find: Charley Patton and Leadbelly, Skip James, Scrapper Blackwell, all the Blinds (Lemon Jefferson, Blake, Willie Johnson, Willie McTell), Son House, Lightnin’ Hopkins, Bo Diddley, Muddy Waters and so many more that we’d be here all night just naming a tenth of them.

And then there were the towering piano players: Pete Johnson, Albert Ammons, Meade Lux Lewis, Roosevelt Sykes, Leroy Carr, Jelly Roll Morton, Champion Jack Dupree, Tuts Washington, Willie “The Lion” Smith, Otis Spann, Memphis Slim, Pinetop Perkins, Professor Longhair, James Booker, Allen Toussaint and Dr John.

I think I tended to favour the piano over the guitar because it stays in one place, which is what I like to do. Guitars appeal to the footloose, the restless. I like sitting a lot.

As for singers, that’s a huge list, with only two names on it: Ray Charles and Bessie Smith.

These great and beautiful artists lived it as they played it. All of them knew the price of a loaf of bread and most had times in their lives when they couldn’t scrape it together. They had credentials, in other words, and I respect those as much as the next man, possibly more.

But at the same time, I could never bear to see this music confined to a glass cabinet, under the heading Culture: Only To Be Handled By Elderly Black Men. That way lies the grave, for the blues and just about everything else: Shakespeare only performed at The Globe, Bach only played by Germans in tights. It’s formaldehyde, and I pray that Leadbelly will never be dead enough to warrant that.

So that’s my only credential – my one dog-eared ID card that I hope will get me through the velvet ropes. I love this music, as authentically as I know how, and I want you to love it too. If you get a thousandth of the pleasure from it that I’ve had, we’re ahead of the game.

Hugh Laurie

Ich habe das Fotobuch noch nicht bekommen, warte aber sehnlich drauf.

Heute habe ich versucht, Geschenke zu kaufen: Ein paar CDs für Freunde. In meinem Hinterwäldlerkaff, Bad Dürkheim. Im Müller Kaufhaus (der einzige Laden im Ort mit CDs eigentlich). Ihr könnt euch mein Erstaunen vorstellen, als in dieser Hochburg der Schunkelmusik der Verkäufer mir sagte, die CDs seien seit gestern restlos ausverkauft und er bekäme die Nächsten frühestens am Freitag!

Enttäuscht, aber dümmlich über beide Ohren grinsend, verließ ich den Laden. Woooow!

Wenn das keinen Gewinn einfährt!

Ich dachte zuvor gerade an den Spruch: Die einzige Art, aus Jazz (und wohl auch Blues) eine Million zu machen ist es, mit zwei Millionen zu starten.

Hugh Laurie beweist wohl das Gegenteil!

:lächeln:

Meine CD war auch versteckt, umter L und unter POP!!! Iiiih! Das war am Samstag in Basel. Ihc hab sie trotzdem gekauft :Zunge:

Dabei gehört sie eindeutig unter Neuigkeiten und Sensationen.

Ich hoffe das ändert sich bald, wenn sie die Charts stürmt.

Hugh Laurie: “Let Them Talk” « The Hurst Review

Ausschnitt:

Laurie’s album is, in short, as fine a summation of New Orleans’ spirit as any of ‘em, whether he’s a native or not. So let them talk: They will find no easy criticisms, at least none based on the music itself.

The specifics are these: Laurie cut the whole thing with producer Joe Henry and an assortment of his typical Garfield House players (though it’s worth noting that they went off-site for this project, seemingly without compromise to their usual spirit of camaraderie). He sang and played piano on every scrap of this thing– even Dr. John, Laurie’s long-time piano idol, is invited only for a vocal cameo, seemingly at Henry’s insistence that this be Laurie’s album all the way. And the whole thing is killer from top to bottom. The sessions are imbued with live-on-the-floor intimacy and spontaneity. Laurie really shines from behind the piano– but of course, that was never really in question; music has been a big part of what he’s done on A Bit of Fry and Laurie and even House, so this project has never been about him proving his musical chops, but rather his passion for the music of New Orleans. On that front he couldn’t have picked a better musical partner: Henry’s albums are all about stripping away the excess to reveal the hidden truth of the matter, and the truth here really seems to be that this stuff speaks to Hugh Laurie– and here, it speaks to us, through him.

Taken in that light, the closing number, “Let Them Talk,” seems less a defensive gesture and more a love letter to this music– this culture– itself. “Swanee River” is another key track– a song Laurie remembers from his adolescent piano lessons, rendered here as a gloriously ragged full-band rave. More than once on the track you can hear Laurie give way to giddy laughter, his sheer revelry in this material carrying him away– and it’s perhaps the greatest sound you’ll hear on the entire record, which is no slight to the music itself. As to the rest of the track selection, Joe Henry wisely guides his protege through a series of blues songs– most of which are associated, in some form or fashion, with the city of New Orleans– and a few New Orleans R&B tunes, and shrewdly avoids tipping the scale in either direction. The album doesn’t lean too far in the direction of the blues– not to the extent of the mortality-courting record Henry produced for Ramblin’ Jack Elliot, for instance– but neither does it overplay its intentions to do the Crescent City justice; there are no references to levees or hurricanes or Mardi Gras here, no rendition of “When the Saints” or “My Indian Red.” They are songs that speak, in different ways, to joy and grief, heartache and happiness, and they speak in the shades of humor and idiosyncrasy that you’ll only find in American roots music. (Indeed, it’s easy to see why these wonderfully weird and deeply human selections would appeal to a born storyteller like Laurie; he sings all three parts in “Buddy Bolden’s Blues” using different voices, and if I say he approaches these songs like an actor, I don’t mean it as an affront to his chops as a blues singer, but rather as high praise for his instincts as a raconteur.)

@MsHousefan 1092913 wrote:

Wie groß und umfangreich ist denn das Fotobuch eigentlich? Ich habe auch überlegt mir die Sonderausgabe noch zu holen, aber nur wenn es sich auch lohnt :Augenzwinkern_2:

Also es ist in DinA5, 44 Seiten, mit Text und Bildern… die meisten Bilder waren mir schon bekannt, aber es ist trotzdem schön, das so in einem Buch zu haben… ob es sich lohnt dafür so viel Euro mehr auszugeben, muss jeder Fan mit sich selbst klären, denk ich mal :Augenzwinkern_2: