porno en el arca de noé

Desde el Sunsplash (donde esta noche tocarà Capleton, nos estamos preparando...), en estos dias de la invasiòn de la JMJ y de palizas a los laicos, Isabella Rossellini nos cuenta otro cuento

Graham Bell Tornado + LCC + Transnoise

Desde los archivos del summerlub 2011

Graham Bell Tornado + LCC + Transnoise
y aqui la crónica de Phosky

punk islam

taqwacore


“I am an Islamist! I am the anti-Christ!” With their tongues firmly in cheek, Boston’s The Kominas belt out an anthem for a new generation of young Muslims. And in this basement of a decrepit Chicago punkhouse, a mob of like-minded Islamic misfits sneers along.

It is the summer of 2007. The Pakistani punkers have arrived at the last stop of their U.S. tour and are celebrating with tourmates. There’s Koroush, an Iranian kid from San Antonio who calls his bandVote Hezbollah; Sena, a Pakistani lesbian from Vancouver who fronts the all-girl Secret Trial Five; Marwan, whose Chicagobased group Al-Thawra pounds heavy metal beats into Arabic drones. And there, at the centre of it all, pumping his fists in the air and shouting Allah hu Akbar, is a white American convert named Michael Muhammad Knight.

The Islamic punk music scene would never have existed if it weren’t for his 2003 novel, The Taqwacores. Melding the Arabic word for god-consciousness with the edge of hardcore punk, Michael imagined a community of Muslim radicals: Mohawked Sufis, riot grrrls in burqas with band patches, skinhead Shi’as. These characters were entirely fictional.

But the movement they inspired is very real.

Taqwacore: The Birth of Punk Islam follows Michael and his real-life kindred spirits on their first U.S. tour, where they incite a riot of young hijabi girls at the largest Muslim gathering in North America after Sena takes the stage. The film then travels with them to Pakistan, where members of the first Taqwacore band, The Kominas, bring punk to the streets of Lahore and Michael begins to reconcile his fundamentalist past with the rebel he has now become.

By stoking the revolution – against traditionalists in their own communities and against the clichés forced upon them from the outside – “we’re giving the finger to both sides,” says one Taqwacore. “Fuck you and fuck you.”

The Kominas are fronted by two Pakistani-Boston natives, Basim Usmani (bass, vocals) and Shahjehan Khan (guitar, vocals). Fellow Pakistani-American Imran Malik plays drums, and Arjun Ray, a Bengali-American plays guitar.  All four contribute to songwriting duties.

Basim and Shaj met at their local mosque as teenagers and immediately became fast friends. While at the University of Massachusetts in Lowell, they came across Michael Muhammad Knight’s novel, The Taqwacores.

Soon after devouring it, they decided to form their own band, The Kominas (which means ‘the bastards’ in Urdu).

They’ve been written about in Newsweek, The Guardian, CNN,NBC and Rolling Stone. Their album, Wild Nights in Guantanamo Bay, made a Boston Globe critic’s Top 10 list for 2008.

Their music can be hear and purchased at http://the.komin.as/store

They can also be found on myspace

The Secret Trial Five is fronted by Sena Hussain, a Pakistani Canadian drag king from Vancouver. Sena, who came out to her Muslim parents in her early 20s, decided to start the first all-girl Taqwacore band after finding The Kominas’ MySpace page. “I thought, Brown guys playing punk?” she says. “I’ve got to get in on this.” Sena and her band were invited to tour with The Kominas in 2007. When they all crashed the Islamic Society of North America’s annual meeting in Chicago, they caused a riot, with organizers and police on one side and excited hijabi girls rocking out on the other.
Visit The Secret Trial Five on Myspace

what the fuck
is a muslim punk?
rather hang with taliban
than dick around with drunks
muhammad wasn't white
and neither is this fight
and we weren't birthed
by michael knight


we're not taqwacore
we're not taqwacore
so leave us alone, leave us alone


we're not taqwacore
we're not taqwacore
so leave us alone, leave us alone


don't need you to say we're good
don't need you to say we suck
don't need no documentary
to say that we don't give a fuck


we're not taqwacore
we're not taqwacore
so leave us alone, leave us alone


we're not taqwacore
we're not taqwacore
so leave us alone, leave us alone

kelly reemtsen

kelly reemtsen

SILVANO AGOSTI

Estraneo ai circuiti della grande distribuzione, Agosti vive senza rimpianti una rigorosa autonomia artistica e produttiva che è prima di tutto indipendenza di pensiero. Nelle due sale dell’Azzurro Scipioni, che gestisce nel quartiere Prati a Roma, trovano spazio i capolavori della storia del cinema e film scelti tra le produzioni odierne.

"Non ho paura di morire: al mattino vivo l’emozione della nascita, la sera quella dell’addormentamento, piccola allusione che la natura fa alla morte. Chi va a letto dopo una giornata intensa non chiede che di dormire; dopo una giornata scialba invece, dormi sonni inquieti e al risveglio sei un immondo insetto, come Gregor Samsa nella Metamorfosi di Kafka".

A metà degli anni ’70 fece rumore la denuncia di Matti da slegare, film diretto con Marco Bellocchio, Stefano Rulli e Sandro Petraglia, (questi ultimi due, sceneggiatori di "I Cento Passi" di Marco Tullio Giordana) dedicato alla condizione dei malati di mente prima della legge Basaglia. Sulle battaglie del promotore dell’antipsichiatria sarebbe tornato, più poeticamente, nel 2000 con La Seconda Ombra, ma l’opera personalissima e la sensibilità del regista bresciano cominciano prima e guardano al di là di questo soggetto.

Matti da slegare è girato in 16 mm nel manicomio di Colorno e finanziato dalla provincia di Parma, è la riduzione di "Nessuno o tutti", film documento in due parti ("Tre storie", "Matti da slegare") di 100m ciascuna, distribuito nel circuito alternativo di ospedali psichiatrici, scuole, cineclub, circoli politici e culturali. Non ha pretese scientifiche. Non è in senso stretto nemmeno un'inchiesta, ma piuttosto una testimonianza e una denuncia. La tesi è racchiusa nel titolo: i malati mentali sono persone "legate" in molti modi e per diverse cause. Se si vuole curarli (non guarirli, ma almeno impedire che vengano guastati dai metodi tradizionali) occorre slegarli, liberarli, reinserirli nella comunità. 


"D'amore si vive", inizialmente concepito per la tv. Girato a Parma e provincia, intervistando sei persone dal profilo molto diverso tra loro, per tentare una riflessione su amore, sesso e tenerezza. Agosti intervista una mamma con un difficile rapporto col sesso, una tossicodipendente, un transessuale, una anziana prostituta, un travestito e un bambino