That Jack Rose died this weekend. Admittedly, I didn't know much about him before his death, but what I've learned recently has been enlightening. He was a hell of a guitarist. Listen and watch:
Love,
Wesz
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The Pirates Are Off
Sassy Swashbucklers
C'est moi tu parles?
Film as dream, film as music.
No art passes our conscience in the way film does, and goes directly to our feelings, deep down into the dark rooms of our souls.
Sir, realism?
Carnal Knowledge.
Sounds like a dinosaur.
Eyes Like Perfume
Pour la musique.
I've been confined to a box.
I cry to him in the dark
But there seems to be no one there.
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