關於 i love living in the city lyrics ，我們在網路上蒐集到這些相關的討論、資訊與評價

Thank you to all those of you for reaching out and listening to my song “I’ll Be Home Before Christmas Day”! I really appreciate all your kind words and thoughts. This song holds a very special place in my heart and so I’d like to take this opportunity to share the inspiration for this song. The lyrics are actually written for my Dad. A lot of people probably don’t know this, but when I was young my parents never really lived in the same city. Mom was at home taking care of me and my brothers, while my Dad was living abroad and working hard to support our family. He would come home and visit 2-3 times a year for only a week at a time. Each visit was very special to our family especially during the Christmas season. To me, Christmas was more than just a holiday. It was my family finally coming together: me, Tim, Ron, Grandma, Mom and Dad. There was one particular year when my father had only just arrived home and had to suddenly fly out on December 23rd for a work trip. I was 10 years old at the time, and I was devastated to see my father leave right before Christmas Eve. My dad really values spending time with our family during the Christmas holidays because he knows how much it means to us. And so during this particular Christmas immediately after his meeting, he took the next flight home. When my father surprised us and was standing at the front door on Christmas day it felt like a Christmas miracle. To me, it was better than seeing Santa Clause. Having him home was the greatest gift. I will always remember this meaningful Christmas. I hope you enjoy the song and have a wonderful Christmas with your family and friends.
Love,
Jay xoxo

Samuel Chan 談英國 recently hit me with a question - What was the most enjoyable part of boarding school?

In short, half-term (LOL!)

Don't get me wrong, I didn’t hate school. I absolutely loved my time at Rye St Antony School in east Oxford. There really should be no fallacies and doubts about what independent and boarding schooling can do for Hong Kong children. You really do meet great friends for life and participate in sporting and extra-curricular activities which, for me, would have been a pipe dream had I not studied in the UK. Fanciful hopes can become unforgettable memories in the blink of an eye at boarding school. Just look at what my involvement in the school's Duke Of Edinburgh Awards and art competitions did for me!

Ah, yes - half-term. I could do little but take advantage of this short break away from school to enhance my awareness of all things British. Cultural development at its most extreme. I would transport myself to other worlds: out in the sticks of rural Oxford (I love that phrase ‘out in the sticks’ - and so do the British), sitting by the River Thames along South Bank watching buskers sing or just going off to watch live bands whenever I could. Out of all these delights, the ‘Thames factor’ did it for me - views of Big Ben and Parliament, city traffic racing by and lyrics from the Kinks singing in my mind (‘as long as I gaze on Waterloo sunset I am in paradise’). It only takes a sunset of a million colours over London to make everything - living, studying and cramming for exams - all seem worthwhile.

In and around Camden Town, murals adorning the old brick buildings which housed funky coffee shops, art galleries and stores as well as the now-legendary Camden KOKO, where every musician would dream to play at. Every visit had its own charm with unpredictable events, chance meetings and the odd planned rendezvous all in waiting. Camden has it all and it was the perfect setting to gain inspiration for my songwriting- scribbling down phrases and live conversations on scrap paper; that feeling of exploding ideas at 3am in the morning happened right here, in broad daylight!

Of course, my budget was low and I still remember using my ‘Young Person’s Railcard’ and getting bargain fare prices at the oddest of hours to get down to London. Yes, my accommodation was always a tatty bed and breakfast but you soon forget these things when you study in the UK. You are just grateful to be there, to be ‘living it’. Overcooked bacon and greasy sausages don’t matter one jot! London is wonderful, not for its shopping or cuisine, but just for casually grabbing a Tesco meal deal and then fleeing off to the Tate Modern or Brick Lane to watch a live band. Heaven!

I really must stop, I can honestly write a book on my time in the UK! Come watch me play at the Cordis Hotel, Mongkok this Saturday(20Feb 12:00pm) or have a chat with Samuel if you wish to study abroad.

Nobody’s Fool　　( January 2011 )

Yoshitomo Nara

Do people look to my childhood for sources of my imagery? Back then, the snow-covered fields of the north were about as far away as you could get from the rapid economic growth happening elsewhere. Both my parents worked and my brothers were much older, so the only one home to greet me when I got back from elementary school was a stray cat we’d taken in. Even so, this was the center of my world. In my lonely room, I would twist the radio dial to the American military base station and out blasted rock and roll music. One of history’s first man-made satellites revolved around me up in the night sky. There I was, in touch with the stars and radio waves.

It doesn’t take much imagination to envision how a lonely childhood in such surroundings might give rise to the sensibility in my work. In fact, I also used to believe in this connection. I would close my eyes and conjure childhood scenes, letting my imagination amplify them like the music coming from my speakers.

But now, past the age of fifty and more cool-headed, I’ve begun to wonder how big a role childhood plays in making us who we are as adults. Looking through reproductions of the countless works I’ve made between my late twenties and now, I get the feeling that childhood experiences were merely a catalyst. My art derives less from the self-centered instincts of childhood than from the day-to-day sensory experiences of an adult who has left this realm behind. And, ultimately, taking the big steps pales in importance to the daily need to keep on walking.

While I was in high school, before I had anything to do with art, I worked part-time in a rock café. There I became friends with a graduate student of mathematics who one day started telling me, in layman’s terms, about his major in topology. His explanation made the subject seem less like a branch of mathematics than some fascinating organic philosophy. My understanding is that topology offers you a way to discover the underlying sameness of countless, seemingly disparate, forms. Conversely, it explains why many people, when confronted with apparently identical things, will accept a fake as the genuine article. I later went on to study art, live in Germany, and travel around the world, and the broader perspective I’ve gained has shown me that topology has long been a subtext of my thinking. The more we add complexity, the more we obscure what is truly valuable. Perhaps the reason I began, in the mid-90s, trying to make paintings as simple as possible stems from that introduction to topology gained in my youth.

As a kid listening to U.S. armed-forces radio, I had no idea what the lyrics meant, but I loved the melody and rhythm of the music. In junior high school, my friends and I were already discussing rock and roll like credible music critics, and by the time I started high school, I was hanging out in rock coffee shops and going to live shows. We may have been a small group of social outcasts, but the older kids, who smoked cigarettes and drank, talked to us all night long about movies they’d seen or books they’d read. If the nighttime student quarter had been the school, I’m sure I would have been a straight-A student.

In the 80s, I left my hometown to attend art school, where I was anything but an honors student. There, a model student was one who brought a researcher’s focus to the work at hand. Your bookshelves were stacked with catalogues and reference materials. When you weren’t working away in your studio, you were meeting with like-minded classmates to discuss art past and present, including your own. You were hoping to set new trends in motion. Wholly lacking any grand ambition, I fell well short of this model, with most of my paintings done to satisfy class assignments. I was, however, filling every one of my notebooks, sketchbooks, and scraps of wrapping paper with crazy, graffiti-like drawings.

Looking back on my younger days—Where did where all that sparkling energy go? I used the money from part-time jobs to buy record albums instead of art supplies and catalogues. I went to movies and concerts, hung out with my girlfriend, did funky drawings on paper, and made midnight raids on friends whose boarding-room lights still happened to be on. I spent the passions of my student days outside the school studio. This is not to say I wasn’t envious of the kids who earned the teachers’ praise or who debuted their talents in early exhibitions. Maybe envy is the wrong word. I guess I had the feeling that we were living in separate worlds. Like puffs of cigarette smoke or the rock songs from my speaker, my adolescent energies all vanished in the sky.

Being outside the city and surrounded by rice fields, my art school had no art scene to speak of—I imagined the art world existing in some unknown dimension, like that of TV or the movies. At the time, art could only be discussed in a Western context, and, therefore, seemed unreal. But just as every country kid dreams of life in the big city, this shaky art-school student had visions of the dazzling, far-off realm of contemporary art. Along with this yearning was an equally strong belief that I didn’t deserve admittance to such a world. A typical provincial underachiever!

I did, however, love to draw every day and the scrawled sketches, never shown to anybody, started piling up. Like journal entries reflecting the events of each day, they sometimes intersected memories from the past. My little everyday world became a trigger for the imagination, and I learned to develop and capture the imagery that arose. I was, however, still a long way off from being able to translate those countless images from paper to canvas.

Visions come to us through daydreams and fantasies. Our emotional reaction towards these images makes them real. Listening to my record collection gave me a similar experience. Before the Internet, the precious little information that did exist was to be found in the two or three music magazines available. Most of my records were imported—no liner notes or lyric sheets in Japanese. No matter how much I liked the music, living in a non-English speaking world sadly meant limited access to the meaning of the lyrics. The music came from a land of societal, religious, and subcultural sensibilities apart from my own, where people moved their bodies to it in a different rhythm. But that didn’t stop me from loving it. I never got tired of poring over every inch of the record jackets on my 12-inch vinyl LPs. I took the sounds and verses into my body. Amidst today’s superabundance of information, choosing music is about how best to single out the right album. For me, it was about making the most use of scant information to sharpen my sensibilities, imagination, and conviction. It might be one verse, melody, guitar riff, rhythmic drum beat or bass line, or record jacket that would inspire me and conjure up fresh imagery. Then, with pencil in hand, I would draw these images on paper, one after the other. Beyond good or bad, the pictures had a will of their own, inhabiting the torn pages with freedom and friendliness.

By the time I graduated from university, my painting began to approach the independence of my drawing. As a means for me to represent a world that was mine and mine alone, the paintings may not have been as nimble as the drawings, but I did them without any preliminary sketching. Prizing feelings that arose as I worked, I just kept painting and over-painting until I gained a certain freedom and the sense, though vague at the time, that I had established a singular way of putting images onto canvas. Yet, I hadn’t reached the point where I could declare that I would paint for the rest of my life.

After receiving my undergraduate degree, I entered the graduate school of my university and got a part-time job teaching at an art yobiko—a prep school for students seeking entrance to an art college. As an instructor, training students how to look at and compose things artistically, meant that I also had to learn how to verbalize my thoughts and feelings. This significant growth experience not only allowed me to take stock of my life at the time, but also provided a refreshing opportunity to connect with teenage hearts and minds.

And idealism! Talking to groups of art students, I naturally found myself describing the ideals of an artist. A painful experience for me—I still had no sense of myself as an artist. The more the students showed their affection for me, the more I felt like a failed artist masquerading as a sensei (teacher). After completing my graduate studies, I kept working as a yobiko instructor. And in telling students about the path to becoming an artist, I began to realize that I was still a student myself, with many things yet to learn. I felt that I needed to become a true art student. I decided to study in Germany. The day I left the city where I had long lived, many of my students appeared on the platform to see me off.

Life as a student in Germany was a happy time. I originally intended to go to London, but for economic reasons chose a tuition-free, and, fortunately, academism-free German school. Personal approaches coexisted with conceptual ones, and students tried out a wide range of modes of expression. Technically speaking, we were all students, but each of us brought a creator’s spirit to the fore. The strong wills and opinions of the local students, though, were well in place before they became artists thanks to the German system of early education. As a reticent foreign student from a far-off land, I must have seemed like a mute child. I decided that I would try to make myself understood not through words, but through having people look at my pictures. When winter came and leaden clouds filled the skies, I found myself slipping back to the winters of my childhood. Forgoing attempts to speak in an unknown language, I redoubled my efforts to express myself through visions of my private world. Thinking rather than talking, then illustrating this thought process in drawings and, finally, realizing it in a painting. Instead of defeating you in an argument, I wanted to invite you inside me. Here I was, in a most unexpected place, rediscovering a value that I thought I had lost—I felt that I had finally gained the ability to learn and think, that I had become a student in the truest sense of the word.

But I still wasn’t your typical honors student. My paintings clearly didn’t look like contemporary art, and nobody would say my images fit in the context of European painting. They did, however, catch the gaze of dealers who, with their antennae out for young artists, saw my paintings as new objects that belonged less to the singular world of art and more to the realm of everyday life. Several were impressed by the freshness of my art, and before I knew it, I was invited to hold exhibitions in established galleries—a big step into a wider world.

The six years that I spent in Germany after completing my studies and before returning to Japan were golden days, both for me and my work. Every day and every night, I worked tirelessly to fix onto canvas all the visions that welled up in my head. My living space/studio was in a dreary, concrete former factory building on the outskirts of Cologne. It was the center of my world. Late at night, my surroundings were enveloped in darkness, but my studio was brightly lit. The songs of folk poets flowed out of my speakers. In that place, standing in front of the canvas sometimes felt like traveling on a solitary voyage in outer space—a lonely little spacecraft floating in the darkness of the void. My spaceship could go anywhere in this fantasy while I was painting, even to the edge of the universe.

Suddenly one day, I was flung outside—my spaceship was to be scrapped. My little vehicle turned back into an old concrete building, one that was slated for destruction because it was falling apart. Having lost the spaceship that had accompanied me on my lonely travels, and lacking the energy to look for a new studio, I immediately decided that I might as well go back to my homeland. It was painful and sad to leave the country where I had lived for twelve years and the handful of people I could call friends. But I had lost my ship. The only place I thought to land was my mother country, where long ago those teenagers had waved me goodbye and, in retrospect, whose letters to me while I was in Germany were a valuable source of fuel.

After my long space flight, I returned to Japan with the strange sense of having made a full orbit around the planet. The new studio was a little warehouse on the outskirts of Tokyo, in an area dotted with rice fields and small factories. When the wind blew, swirls of dust slipped in through the cracks, and water leaked down the walls in heavy rains. In my dilapidated warehouse, only one sheet of corrugated metal separated me from the summer heat and winter cold. Despite the funky environment, I was somehow able to keep in midnight contact with the cosmos—the beings I had drawn and painted in Germany began to mature. The emotional quality of the earlier work gave way to a new sense of composure. I worked at refining the former impulsiveness of the drawings and the monochromatic, almost reverent, backgrounds of the paintings. In my pursuit of fresh imagery, I switched from idle experimentation to a more workmanlike approach towards capturing what I saw beyond the canvas.

Children and animals—what simple motifs! Appearing on neat canvases or in ephemeral drawings, these figures are easy on the viewers’ eyes. Occasionally, they shake off my intentions and leap to the feet of their audience, never to return. Because my motifs are accessible, they are often only understood on a superficial level. Sometimes art that results from a long process of development receives only shallow general acceptance, and those who should be interpreting it fail to do so, either through a lack of knowledge or insufficient powers of expression. Take, for example, the music of a specific era. People who lived during this era will naturally appreciate the music that was then popular. Few of these listeners, however, will know, let alone value, the music produced by minor labels, by introspective musicians working under the radar, because it’s music that’s made in answer to an individual’s desire, not the desires of the times. In this way, people who say that “Nara loves rock,” or “Nara loves punk” should see my album collection. Of four thousand records there are probably fewer than fifty punk albums. I do have a lot of 60s and 70s rock and roll, but most of my music is from little labels that never saw commercial success—traditional roots music by black musicians and white musicians, and contemplative folk. The spirit of any era gives birth to trends and fashions as well as their opposite: countless introspective individual worlds. A simultaneous embrace of both has cultivated my sensibility and way of thinking. My artwork is merely the tip of the iceberg that is my self. But if you analyzed the DNA from this tip, you would probably discover a new way of looking at my art. My viewers become a true audience when they take what I’ve made and make it their own. That’s the moment the works gain their freedom, even from their maker.

After contemplative folk singers taught me about deep empathy, the punk rockers schooled me in explosive expression.

I was born on this star, and I’m still breathing. Since childhood, I’ve been a jumble of things learned and experienced and memories that can’t be forgotten. Their involuntary locomotion is my inspiration. I don’t express in words the contents of my work. I’ll only tell you my history. The countless stories living inside my work would become mere fabrications the moment I put them into words. Instead, I use my pencil to turn them into pictures. Standing before the dark abyss, here’s hoping my spaceship launches safely tonight….

Dear All,
I am more than happy to announce that our team is launching an exciting campaign with lots of collaborations! Here you go our first piece of art work.

"音樂影像(Music Video)不是音樂的襯托。她是獨立的作品，同時讓人能"看見"音樂及一切從音樂開展的可能性。"

【Please support us】:
https://tickcats.co/ticket/everyday-i-die-a-little-bit-inside/

第一部曲 | Reminiscence (End Game Version)
末日版本：科技進步 vs 情感倒退 【3D 動畫家】

科技的進步也許是為了世界倒退而繼續支撐著人類的冰冷產物。在人工智能的城市裡，人捨棄了屬於城市本來的溫度，彼此之間生長更多距離。智能人類誕生的故事毫不陌生，在其自我學習的過程中衍生出本不存在的東西——情感，然後經歷逝去。
Reminiscence的人工智能城市裡，一位人（AI）與其他人每天過著重複的生活。有天，她突然發現遠古帶有血肉的生命體，頓時意識到自己有了複雜的變化，開始尋找答案。一直操控AI意識的程序逐漸消失，失去被控制的瞬間，城市開始崩塌，其他人感到迷失。然而，有了自我意識/情感的她，醒覺自己和其他人原是冰冷的智能人類，情感帶來的溫度慢慢腐蝕她的身體、崩壞、死去。

歌：
回憶是很微妙的，每一秒的消逝，每件事一旦過去，就演變成只在腦海裡而現實已不復存在的畫面。在所有逝去前，我們能否緊握當下的每一秒？

Chapter one | Reminiscence (End Game Version)
Technological advancement vs The emotional regression (3D animator)

Technological advancement is perhaps the reason why people are still able to live amidst the Great Regression. In the AI cities, people distance themselves from each other. The AI started to develop something that the makers did not intend them to learn through self-learning algorithms: emotions.

In the city of Reminiscence, Ms AI was living a plain, repetitive and normal life like the others. One day, she discovered ancient life forms that's so different from her species, organic with blood and tissues. The great shock that led her to the urge for truth was then spreading throughout the city. And slowly day by day, the program that controls the AIs was overwritten and finally erased. At the very moment of losing control, the city started to fall apart and everyone started to gain self-consciousness, and realised that they are only stone-cold robots. Emotions in the AIs eventually started to erode their body to death.

Song:
Reminiscence is interesting in a subtle way. The passing of time, the happening of different events... they afterwards become fragmented memories in us. So can we seize the day when it passes?

【Lyrics】

#She come and gone
Left me alone
Three years no call
They said it was not my fault

I grabbed her wound
My weakness I poured
That’s how we were torn
They said it was not her fault

If I were a tree
Would you be my leaves
What keeps us believe
Our fragile love would always exist

If I were the sea
Would you be my fishes
Tell me you believe
Our fragile love would always exist

*Cry Cry out loud
I don’t need to be the one
who makes you smile
Fly Fly to someone I can’t shout
When you’re about to falls
I will keep my feet on the ground* #

Repeat #
Repeat *

_________________________

【Music Video】
Director / Animator | Ivan Hung

https://www.instagram.com/ivan_terrible/

______________________

【Music 】


Written by CHANKA
Arranged by CHANKA, MAEL, Hin, Dean
Recorded by Nichung
Mixed by MAEL
Mastered by Lok Chan
-
#CHANKA #陳嘉 #Reminiscence
-
Now available on:
Spotify: https://spoti.fi/3hjYDYO
Apple Music: https://apple.co/32kYTCt
KKBOX: https://kkbox.fm/uSeWTe
MusicOne: https://bit.ly/2FmBNT8
JOOX: https://bit.ly/2F9O79x
TIDAL Music: https://bit.ly/3bRhaub

_________________________


CHANKA 陳嘉:


https://www.instagram.com/wander.chanka/
https://www.facebook.com/wander.chanka/
wanderchanka@gmail.com
-
Have a listen of some of my other works :
"Silence" : https://youtu.be/1Hkk7l4zk9k
"Young" : https://youtu.be/kolrKYxvvf8
"Ocean" : https://youtu.be/GOTdDrC1G-E
-

Listen DLLM :
Spotify - https://spoti.fi/2wdcFGQ
Apple Music - ‭ ‭https://apple.co/2N369Mz

Purchase the official #DLLM merchandise here :
http://thecapcity.com

Music produced by : Ezzad (@exactesy)
Video directed & edited by : Kayden (@24kay_reel)

Nigel Sparks - Official Social Media (@nigelsparks)
Instagram: http://instagram.com/NigelSparks
Facebook: http://Facebook.com/NigelSparks
Twitter: http://twitter.com/NigelSparks

Music video by Nigel Sparks performing DLLM. © 2018 Keramat Records

LYRICS :
[Verse 1]
Different strokes for different folks
Different truth in different books
Well if time is money, then we can't go broke
Now will the next generation, PLEASE STAY WOKE
I know it's mind over matter
But money on my mind
I’ve been tryna do better
“No you should stay on your line”
They ask “how are you man”
I say “I'm doing fine”
I mean what can I say, right?
Like, bro Im putting up a fight!
I can't see the light?
So I'm back rapping, spitting to this motherf*cking mic
Like you even care bro
B*tch, you a fake, faker than a scarecrow
Most people ain’t what they pose to be
Most people don’t mean what they said they’d be
Most people trust the TV, now IG
Tell me when we’ll ever be free???

[Verse 2]
Now f*ck what they say
The he say she say
I pay no attention to none of you motherf*ckers
Imma do it my way
None of you can say nothing
None of you can do nothing
Came up from the bottom
Now I'm loving what I do
Sh*t I'm doing what I love
Now nobody could stop me
But boy why would you try?
We are all the same
But living different lives
Speak a little truth
And they lose their minds
Most people living in lies
With their eyes opened wide
How could you not see?
They want you to not be?
Anything they fear, they try to tell you "keep it real"
But they don’t care how you feel like

Thanks for watching my English & Chinese Rap Remix Cover of "Outro: Tear" by BTS. Had to put on my mean face for this one... But don't be afraid to subscribe haha cos I'm your friendly neighborhood Ben when I'm not rapping! See you this week!

Instrumental produced by UTM's Music.


Instagram:
@ak.benjamin
https://instagram.com/ak.benjamin/

Soundcloud:
https://soundcloud.com/ak-benjamin

For business:
akbenjaminbusiness@gmail.com


Many of you are asking for lyrics in the description, so here you go:

Another year for me
I’ve been balling since 2017
Counting how many days and nights that I sacrificed
Catching Fire like Everdeen
Now my cover’s the best you’ve ever seen
Taking you to the highest ever been
All my fans yeah they fuck with me, body rock with me
See they clearly made a king, ayy

Remember years ago I came to New York City no one knew me
Walking through the blocks in Tribeca, ayy
Now I’m an Icon living moonwalking like I’m Syre
Everybody checking on me what’s the matter, uhh

Telling all my life stories off the beat
Got me feel like I’m the Joyner Lucas of the East
All y’all haters hear me out, if you dissing, I ain’t playing
Try confront me, I’ll answer Acapella
(Switch)

當我切換至這個新的頻率新的領域
所有噪音雜音全部蜂擁而至剛好的是
I don’t wanna listen to that
鍵盤俠們你們井底之蛙沒有文化
I don’t wanna listen to that
至於那些畫虎不成反類犬的
玩世不恭最後兩手空空還在抱怨命運不公
Bitch, you ain’t fooling me, huh
Put the work in like me, yeah

You’re my tear
You’re my, you’re my tear
You’re my tear
You’re my, you’re my tear, oh
You’re my fear
You’re my, you’re my fear
What more can I say?
You’re my tear

Got the final key to leave the commonplace
You coming now or never, life is gonna change
Forget the blood and pain, straight from yesterday
Now time is up, get ready for the breakaway

Got nobody who’s gonna really hold me down
Becoming stronger they will never pull me down
Shame on the fake world that just don’t believe in us
No more disguise now
(Let them know we about to tear this shit apart)

You’re my tear
You’re my, you’re my tear
You’re my tear
You’re my, you’re my tear, oh
You’re my fear
You’re my, you’re my fear
What more can I say?