Bielska Zadymka Jazzowa : Pat Martino
Photo Farrad Ali 20.02.2014 - (89 minutes)
Pat Martino est une véritable icône du modern jazz. Guitariste de génie, il inspire plusieurs générations de musiciens par son style sec et rapide, son aura dépassant ainsi le monde du jazz. Riche de diverses influences musicales, l'artiste est un créatif qui aspire à une maîtrise parfaite de son instrument, instrument mis au service d'une philosophie musicale faite de passion et de rigueur. Aujourd'hui devenu une véritable référence en matière de bebop, Pat Martino est aussi connu pour ses superbes improvisations et sa technique quasi-parfaite. Un niveau d'excellence qui lui a notamment valu en 2004 le prix de "Guitariste de l'année" décerné par les lecteurs du magazine Down Beat.
Pat Martino is a true icon of modern jazz . Brilliant guitarist , he inspired several generations of musicians through his dry and quick style, his aura surpassing the world of jazz. Rich in diverse musical influences, the artist is a creative who aspires to a perfect mastery of his instrument, at the service of a musical philosophy made of passion and rigor. A reference in terms of bebop, Pat Martino is also known for its stunning improvisations and almost perfect technique. A level of excellence that has earned him in 2004 including the prize for " Guitarist of the Year " award by the readers of Down Beat magazine .
Thy Days Are Done
by Lord Byron
Thy days are done, thy fame begun;
Thy country's strains record
The triumphs of her chosen Son,
The slaughter of his sword!
The deeds he did, the fields he won,
The freedom he restored!
Though thou art fall'n, while we are free
Thou shalt not taste of death!
The generous blood that flow'd from thee
Disdain'd to sink beneath:
Within our veins its currents be,
Thy spirit on our breath!
Thy name, our charging hosts along,
Shall be the battle-word!
Thy fall, the theme of choral song
From virgin voices pour'd!
To weep would do thy glory wrong:
Thou shalt not be deplored.
Thy country's strains record
The triumphs of her chosen Son,
The slaughter of his sword!
The deeds he did, the fields he won,
The freedom he restored!
Though thou art fall'n, while we are free
Thou shalt not taste of death!
The generous blood that flow'd from thee
Disdain'd to sink beneath:
Within our veins its currents be,
Thy spirit on our breath!
Thy name, our charging hosts along,
Shall be the battle-word!
Thy fall, the theme of choral song
From virgin voices pour'd!
To weep would do thy glory wrong:
Thou shalt not be deplored.