D.A.R. (Delayed Album Review)
 
Bill Evans is a ghost or a shadow, a whispering man, he's a composer of memories, a fragment of an impossible whole, and nobody seems to note that. Everybody note the musician, but not the ghost... nobody seems to listen that the entire milky way lives inside his piano, that a cannonball floats in the air while he plays, a shot from nowhere to nowhere. He's the amazing picture of a man and the man himself, nobody knew him as well as the piano, their monochromatic affaire, their love in technicolor can tell that. Now I'm listening the Sunday at the Vanguard album and I can't stop picture NYC under the moonlight, the small crowd and the silence between notes. I certainly believe in magic when I listen to his music.

Ansiedad de deseo, jazz de mueble quieto,  esfinge y oráculo griego, jazz de sombra luminosa y ojos en sordina, it's time, tiempo y arabesco, montaña sagrada de la síncopa y el susurro ansioso de la noche llena de humo, llena de noche, llena de jazz. Hermosa sensación la de descubrir algo nuevo que lo fue hace décadas. Jackie Mclean me llegó desde mi ignorancia como una de esas casualidades milagrosas. El jazz tiene eso, uno cree que conoce, que Hubbard, que Miles, que Tyner, que Evans o Monk, que Lovano o Corea o Lee Morgan, que Jarret, que... tantos, y entonces, en medio de un julio cualquiera aparece Jackie Mclean, It's time, y la estanteria mental de nombres se reacomoda, hace lugar para uno más. El disco me pone de pie, me hace salir de donde estoy para caminar y mirar. El arte de tapa no podría ser más acorde, una exclamación repetitiva, como si desde la imagen el disco gritara jazz jazz jazz jazz! y le resultara imposible callarse. Jackie Mclean, It's time, año 1964. 

D.A.R. (Delayed Album Review)
This is one of those cases where an album gets into your brain after the fifth or the sixth hearing. I wanna say that I do love Mayer's guitars and songs, the tender sound of his voice (his ego is another story), but in this opportunity we have an album plenty of good songs... and that's it. I mean, made with a lack of sticky guitar solos and only a whisper of overdrive, is Mayer's most simple album, the closest one to his country vein. The first time I listened to it I just thought "well... nothing to remember", but after a couple of extra hearings the album reveals something, I don't know. Like the front cover where that field appears like a sea of tranquility and the man, the musician, stares at something that we can't see, Mayer offers an album with a blind point, a closed suitcase, a forbidden note.

D.A.R. (Delayed Album Review) Friendly Fire

Living is easy with eyes closed... Well, in this opportunity if I close my eyes I´ll end up a little confused, and that´s because Sean sings just like John, like a double trick or an amazing deconstruction of time gently builded for my ears. It has to be weird wear the last name Lennon and be an artist, I mean, you will always be compared with your old man, and even if that´s flattering because he was... well, Lennon, it has to be at least complicated. I listen to this Friendly Fire

and I feel soaked in Lennon spirit, with a bunch of really great melodies, a lovely voice and very beautiful arrangements, Sean just have found the way to make me smile each time I press play and go out for a walk.