Even though Tone encouraged everybody staying to hear the quartet the Portables from Ghent, whom the fewest – either didn’t already sign – knew, there happened, as mentioned, subsequently a little a mass emigration. That ought to however not have done, for no matter where Rocktraum ever had dug the Belgians – that look now actually like to have ten years’ career and several publications on among other things (K-RAA-K) 3 behind themselves – up, had they done a kind of find. By God’s protection: The orchestra was, as if I apparently managed to express that to a companion, “both completely wildly fat and hugely ring at the same time”. Funnyly enough the Portables had a real forte in their quick, neck-breaking numbers, where they made complex shifts without problems in both pace, dynamics and rhythm patterns, which were right in the cupboard. Already the first song, they played, was a splendid energy discharge, which went from the chanting, but the complex, to a culmination, where hilly drums, heavily pumping bass and brutal, noisy guitar blows overturned one mercilessly backwards. Two or three minutes lasted it, and then one was sold! And luckily the majority consisted of the set of such numbers: Schematic as with (yes!) The Ma be Belgiere, roaringly and makingly a noise that with The Wedding Present, weird, showed empathy and combined as with dEUS. With texts, which found the oblique angles and small dramas in everyday life: “I saw her on a vegetarian barbecue/Mission impossible”, which it was called black humouredly a place. Oh yes, and then a disarming humour had sworn. One of the guitar players – a tall, red-haired punter – was playing on a pink metal guitar, which might have been bought from Twisted Sister’s estate of a deceased person, entertained with a monologue in summer, which apparently had been just as Plum-rotten in Belgium, and began at a time sing the text to Laid Back’s “Baker-man” across a chanting guitar figure.
The problems however arose, when the Portables risked itself out in the hymnical or the electronic. One of the numbers was to have culminated in a sejt pulling prog-passage completely with a floating keyboard, but ended up offering more steaks than an average burger chain sells on an annual basis. And when they took a shot at a discoed mark number, which meant that they have to worked on click-track, they had to start from the beginning three times. There you could really feel the earth burn over the Belgians, who however still ended up musting give encores.
Somebody studied Scandinavian Languages?
7 comments
Åh ja, og så havde bandet en afvæbnende humor.
Ik denk dat ze zegt dat humor het vijfde bandslid is
this doesn’t really help either
this translation is more or less understandable…
Do you have ANY idea who she is talking about:<br>
“One of the guitar players – a tall, red-haired punter – was playing on a pink metal guitar, ”
hahahahaha
Even though Tone encouraged everybody staying to hear the quartet the Portables from Ghent, whom the fewest – either didn’t already sign – knew, there happened, as mentioned, subsequently a little a mass emigration. That ought to however not have done, for no matter where Rocktraum ever had dug the Belgians – that look now actually like to have ten years’ career and several publications on among other things (K-RAA-K) 3 behind themselves – up, had they done a kind of find. By God’s protection: The orchestra was, as if I apparently managed to express that to a companion, “both completely wildly fat and hugely ring at the same time”. Funnyly enough the Portables had a real forte in their quick, neck-breaking numbers, where they made complex shifts without problems in both pace, dynamics and rhythm patterns, which were right in the cupboard. Already the first song, they played, was a splendid energy discharge, which went from the chanting, but the complex, to a culmination, where hilly drums, heavily pumping bass and brutal, noisy guitar blows overturned one mercilessly backwards. Two or three minutes lasted it, and then one was sold! And luckily the majority consisted of the set of such numbers: Schematic as with (yes!) The Ma be Belgiere, roaringly and makingly a noise that with The Wedding Present, weird, showed empathy and combined as with dEUS. With texts, which found the oblique angles and small dramas in everyday life: “I saw her on a vegetarian barbecue/Mission impossible”, which it was called black humouredly a place. Oh yes, and then a disarming humour had sworn. One of the guitar players – a tall, red-haired punter – was playing on a pink metal guitar, which might have been bought from Twisted Sister’s estate of a deceased person, entertained with a monologue in summer, which apparently had been just as Plum-rotten in Belgium, and began at a time sing the text to Laid Back’s “Baker-man” across a chanting guitar figure.
The problems however arose, when the Portables risked itself out in the hymnical or the electronic. One of the numbers was to have culminated in a sejt pulling prog-passage completely with a floating keyboard, but ended up offering more steaks than an average burger chain sells on an annual basis. And when they took a shot at a discoed mark number, which meant that they have to worked on click-track, they had to start from the beginning three times. There you could really feel the earth burn over the Belgians, who however still ended up musting give encores.
de ulrike heeft deens gestudeerd – ik zal’t eens doorsturen!
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