Vidéo -Ukraine : Secteur Droit du mouvement Euromaïdan

euromaidan-400x185” L’EuroMaïdan a commencé à Kiev le 29 novembre et s’est institué « Assemblée populaire » le 22 décembre 2013. C’est le nom donné à leur performance par les manifestants pro-européens se déployant sur « Maïdan », la Place de l’Indépendance à Kiev.” (Voir Euromaïdan, ou la « bataille d’Ukraine », 25 janvier 2014.)

 

Vidéo en russe et sous-titrée en français:

Secteur Droit de l’Euromaïdan (1) sous-titres fr

Sur le même sujet:

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Putin Scores Another Historic Victory: Austria Signs South Stream Pipeline Deal in Defiance of Europe

The Obama Drone Murder Memo

 

 

Anwar_al-Awlaki_sitting_on_couch_lightened-400x533The long-suppressed Justice Department memo released Monday establishes that the president of the United States, Barack Obama, in the most calculated and criminal manner, authorized the murder of an American citizen, Anwar al-Awlaki.

Reading this document, with its crude arguments supporting the targeting and drone killing of a man far from any battlefield, who was never charged with a crime, is itself a chilling experience. The tortured pseudo-legalisms of its author only underscore the premeditated character of the act.

The drone attack that killed Awlaki and three others in Yemen on September 30, 2011, including a second US citizen, Samir Khan, was not carried out in the heat of battle. Neither was the drone attack one month later that obliterated Awlaki’s teenage son.

Obama’s secret decision to place Awlaki on his “kill list” was leaked to the press in April of 2010. The memo by the then-head of the Justice Department’s Office of Legal Counsel, David Barron, claiming that the Constitution and US laws gave the president the power to kill a US citizen, without charge or trial, was sent to Attorney General Eric Holder in July of 2010. Awlaki’s father filed a suit in federal court to remove his son from the kill list, but the case was thrown out in December of 2010.

Thus the murder of Awlaki was organized over a protracted period of time. It was a cold-blooded extra-judicial killing by the state.

Awlaki had not been indicted prior to his killing. In fact, it has not been established to this day that he had committed a criminal act. None of the assertions by the government of his role as an “operational leader” of an Al Qaeda group or his alleged involvement in terror plots against the US were ever substantiated, although Barron in his memo treats them all as indisputable fact.

It may be the case—and not even this is clear—that he engaged in propaganda hostile to the policies of the US government. But even if this is so, such behavior is not necessarily criminal, let alone grounds for execution without trial.

Awlaki’s background raises a host of questions. He was, in fact, well known to the Pentagon and the FBI, having collaborated with them a decade before.

It seems that Awlaki was selected for an extra-judicial state killing because he had acquired a public persona that—and here the media played a vital role—would make him an “acceptable” target. In this sense, Awlaki was a guinea pig. His murder was calculated to establish a precedent for virtually unlimited executive power—and it has.

There is no precedent for such an act in American history. With the state murder of Awlaki, the United States entered into uncharted territory. The lack of any significant response from any section of the political establishment has demonstrated that so-called American democracy is rotting from within.

If the deliberate murder of a US citizen is not an impeachable act, a “high crime and misdemeanor,” then nothing is. But there has been no congressional investigation into the killing of Awlaki. There have been no public hearings. There has been no move to impeach Obama or prosecute him and his CIA and Pentagon accomplices. This is because the entire state is complicit.

It is instructive to compare the killing of Awlaki to other presidential acts that led to impeachment proceedings or, at least, congressional hearings. In 1868, President Andrew Johnson was impeached by the House of Representatives for having violated the Tenure of Office Act. He avoided conviction by the Senate and removal from office by a single vote. The underlying cause of the impeachment crisis involved conflicts with Congress over policy toward the defeated South.

Richard Nixon resigned under duress in August 1974 after the House Judiciary Committee passed three articles of impeachment relating to the Watergate burglary and the bombing of Cambodia. Many of his subordinates resigned and were later sent to prison.

In the 1980s, President Ronald Reagan became mired in the Iran-Contra affair that should have led to impeachment proceedings but did not. There were, however, public congressional hearings into the secret sale of weapons to Iran in exchange for the release of US hostages, and the use of the proceeds from the sales to fund the Nicaraguan contras, in violation of the Boland Amendment. Later, there were trials and convictions.

Bill Clinton was impeached by the House in 1998 and tried in the Senate for lying to a grand jury about private sexual relations.

None of these cases involved the killing of an American citizen. Yet today, Obama publicly acknowledges having ordered the assassination of Awlaki, and there are no legal consequences. In the aftermath of Awlaki’s killing, the violations of the Constitution and democratic rights become more and more grotesque: military aggression launched without even the pretense of congressional approval, pervasive government spying on the American people, de facto martial law in Boston, etc.

The attitude of the political establishment is summed up by the fact that Obama nominated Barron—the author of the memo that sanctioned Awlaki’s killing—to join the federal Court of Appeals. His promotion was confirmed by the Senate, with all but two Democrats voting in favor.

The absence of broad public protest reflects not agreement with Obama’s crime, but the deep alienation of the great mass of the people from the political system. They know by now that what they think or feel counts for nothing. There is, in fact, no mechanism within the political or even the legal system through which their opposition can find expression.

What has produced this malignant crisis? It is the product of a fatal combination of imperialist militarism, the extreme concentration of wealth at the very top, and the unrestrained exercise of corporate power.

Vast and ominous changes have taken place in America. The entire official political set-up is in an advanced stage of putrefaction. History teaches that, “in the course of human events,” there comes a point when a critical mass of people concludes that the existing system has become so intolerable that it must be radically changed. Such a point is fast approaching in the United States.

http://www.globalresearch.ca/the-obama-drone-murder-memo/5388562″ data-title=”The Obama Drone Murder Memo”>

Ukraine: The War in Slavyansk as Seen by its Residents. Save the People of Donbass!

 

 

Picture-6At the beginning, the video shows a bus with children leaving their home with tears in their eyes. Their parents and relatives are standing beside the bus. 

Then the video shows what the people of Slavyansk have to go through during artillery and bombing attacks by the Kiev regime.  This “government” which is integrated by two Neo-Nazi parties is supported by the self-proclaimed international community.

The “anti-terrorist operation” in Eastern Ukraine is coordinated by the National Security and National Defense Committee (RNBOU). (Рада національної безпеки і оборони України), which is controlled by Svoboda and Right Sector.

Dmytro Yarosh, Neo-Nazi leader of the Right Sector delegation in the parliament, oversees the National Guard, a loyal civilian militia created in March with the support of Western military advisers.

The Western media has described the Neo-Nazi Brown shirts as “freedom fighters”.

While the media presents the crisis as a confrontation between “pro-Russian” and “Ukrainian nationalists”, the grassroots movement in Eastern Ukraine is largely directed against the Neo-Nazi Kiev regime supported by the West.

Meanwhile, new reports inform  us that there is democracy in Ukraine, with the advent of a duly elected president and that Russia is the Aggressor.

Save the People in Donbass, Save the Children,

Spread the word far and wide. Support Truth in media.

Michel Chossudovsky, GR Editor

 

Ukraine: The War in Slavyansk as Seen by its Residents. Save the People of Donbass”

 

 

 

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Song Premiere: Robert Plant’s Bold New Band

Robert Plant and his new band.

Robert Plant and his new band.

 

Of all the artists making music in the ’60s and ’70s and still making music today, continues to keep his music vital and interesting. His music with in 2007 was steeped in the bluesy rock the singer does best, but it wasn’t nostalgic, it was fresh. In 2010 it was Band Of Joy with and , again surprising and lovable. Now the sixty-five year old former singer has a new band and project, Robert Plant and the Sensational Space Shifters. Judging from the one song we’re premiering here today I’m eager to get my hands on the new album.

Robert Plant - Born in England; made in the U.S.

Robert Plant – Born in England; made in the U.S.

 

It’s urgent. It’s acrobatic. It’s pulsing with raw sexuality. It is the unmistakable voice of Robert Plant.

Plant was just 19 when he joined in 1968. He was already known as “The Wild Man of Blues From the Black Country” in the area around Birmingham, England. His new album, Band of Joy, is named after one of his earliest bands, and you can hear a lot of the same influences now as then.

 

This song, called “Rainbow,” is a haunting, percussive mix of rock and soul. It’s from a new record, lullaby and… The Ceaseless Roar (the l is lower case intentionally), which comes out on Sept. 9 on a new label for Robert Plant, Nonesuch. In a press release, he calls it “a celebratory record, powerful, gritty, African, Trance meets Zep.” His band includes Justin Adams on various percussion including bendir and djembe and also guitar; John Baggott on keyboards, loops, moog bass and piano; Juldeh Camara on ritti (a single stringed fiddle); Billy Fuller on bass, drum programming and omnichord; Dave Smith on drums and Liam “Skin” Tyson on banjo and guitar. Tchad Blake mixed all but a few of the album’s tracks and he really is a master at making even the ordinary sound extraordinary. You may know his work with Elvis Costello, Sam Phillips, Peter Gabriel, Tom Waits and so many more. Plant will tour with the new album in the fall — all we know now is that there are shows planned at the Brooklyn Academy of Music on Sept. 27 and 28.

 

“The complexion of this adventure — it’s definitely made in America,” Plant says. “As a kid — and most of us British musicians — we felt the resonance of American music. It’s all the stuff that affected me and made me quite emotional when I was a kid. All that great stuff — mix it and twirl it around if you like with the more glossy American doo-wop/pop, which you can hear on Band of Joy. If you listen to the Kelly Brothers song ‘Falling in Love Again,’ you hear that sweet side of the sound.”

With 40 years of music behind him, Plant has been exposed to much music. In an interview, All Things Considered host Melissa Block asks how Plant finds new paths to songs.

“I hear so many songs that many years ago I would have thought unassailable,” Plant says. “When you’re 20 years old and you’re making points with volume and dynamism, it’s a fantastic thing to do. But just to enjoy an adventure in restraint, it’s like, what don’t you do to make it work.”

On Band of Joy, Plant’s cover of “Silver Rider” by the indie-rock band is about as restrained as you can get.

For Plant, there was no training his voice — just singing.

“I used to deliver newspapers, and I got enough money to send off to King Records in Cincinnati from Worcestershire in England, as a 13-year-old,” Plant says. “I got the original pressings of ‘s Live at the Apollo — a voice that’s absolutely unbelievable. And then, whoop, some crackling radio underneath my pillow gives me singing ‘Way Over There’ — ‘What’s this? This is what it is. This is people letting every single breath that they’ve got out.’ It’s just too much. I had to try and get there.

“So many white kids, English kids — we had no culture,” Plant says. “We had no points of reference, really, apart from these hazy radio signals fading in and out depending on the weather over your mom and dad’s house. We just ate it up and just tried to get it like that. We all failed miserably, to be honest.”

The voice of “Whole Lotta Love” failed miserably? According to Plant, he was too invested in academia and doing what his parents asked of him. He hadn’t hit those “subterranean grooves yet.” But he says that when he listens back to those Led Zeppelin records now, he hears a “precocious” kid, “looking into the crowd and wiggling his legs about and wondering what’s for supper” — metaphorically, of course.

Glorious Failures And Magnificent Moments

There are so many instances when Plant’s voice entwines with Jimmy Page’s guitar. Block wonders if that guitar influenced his voice.

“The kind of vocal exaggeration that I developed was based on what key songs were in,” Plant says. “Lots of songs would be in E or A, which you got to get up there if you’re going to sing in E. Some nights it was great and some nights, live, you had to run for cover. I’d like to pretend that the PA had broken sometimes, because I set myself huge challenges to try and be consistent. And some of those vocal performances were, you know, real tough. And some of them we cheated, you know, used vari-speed and got up there. Here and there you can hear, [they] slowed down the tape and then [I’d] sing over it and speed it back up again, you know … Mama, mama, mama, mama! ‘Cause it fitted. Back in those early days, I was flying by the seat of my pants quite a lot, and there were glorious failures, and there were magnificent moments.”

At some point, Plant’s voice became an instrument, but he doesn’t quite liken it to Page’s guitar.

“It’s a weird thing to do, because the voice doesn’t have that kind of flexibility,” Plant says. “I wanted my voice to be a tenor sax, really. I wanted to be . I wanted to be . I just think that certain instruments have so much more chance of following the electric charges in your mind. When you’re listening to people play the post-bebop stuff, you can hear this great instrumentation. But for a singer, you’ve got to work with syllables; you’ve got to work with themes and lyric. I’ve got to learn to play something soon.”

Considering his range and wail, it’s amazing that Plant has a voice left at all.

“I never stop and think anything, and that’s why talking to you is quite a revelation,” Plant says. “I never even think about these things. When you’re in a recording studio and you’ve got a microphone, and the tape’s rolling, and everybody’s playing, you just do it. You go into this place that makes sense for the moment. I can’t think about it in a straight line and say, ‘This is how I did this or that or the other,’ because even within a [Led] Zeppelin album, there was so much variance, and that’s what makes a career, a passage of time, a great gift. But my voice — how did I ever know I could do it? Listen to it now — I sound like Hoagy Carmichael. I feel good about what I’m doing, so I guess if I shut up for a couple of days, I can sing good again.”

joy_wide-4c2ffd1925aa75d39e1bbd24d00ed7ef5f3aec5a-s4-c85

This was a show full of surprises. First off, Band of Joy wasn’t just backing . It’s a band that happens to have Plant as a member. Sometimes multi-instrumentalist sung lead while Plant played harmonica. At other times, singer-songwriter or country artist took center stage. Sure, Plant was the main reason fans turned out at the Bowery Ballroom in New York City. But this was a remarkable band giving a stunning performance.

Another surprise was Plant’s demeanor. He never cut loose. Even on a song like the track “Gallows’ Pole,” there was no crazy wailing. In fact, all of the Zeppelin tunes were beautifully restrained.

That led to another surprise: I never missed Plant’s Zeppelin histrionics. His restraint was exactly what this setting called for. The show was still a memorable treat: Amazing players applying their craft to great American blues and old timey tunes, along with some good old rock ‘n’ roll.

The final surprise was that I liked the covers as much as the Led Zeppelin songs. It’s safe to say that everyone smiled a little more when Band of Joy launched into “Misty Mountain Hop,” “Houses of the Holy,” “Gallows Pole” and “Rock and Roll.” But truth be told, traditional songs and cover tunes such as the cut “Angel Dance,” a gospel medley that included “12 Gates to the City” and “House of Cards,” are what ultimately made this night a perfect delight.

The show was recorded at the Bowery Ballroom by Edward Haber, Irene Trudel, George Wellington and Mike Poole. It was mixed at Jerome L. Greene Performance Space by Mike Poole and Edward Haber.

 

 

 

Can’t Follow The Beat? Just Add Butter!

The National

The National

What is it about the rhythm of a song that grabs your ear? Odds are, it has something to do with your ability to tap your foot or move your body to the beat. But if you’ve ever heard a song whose beat you couldn’t quite follow, you may have been hearing what’s called a polyrhythm — the musical equivalent of patting your head and rubbing your stomach at the same time.

To find out more about how polyrhythms work, NPR’s Daoud Tyler-Ameen gets a lesson from drum teacher, jams with guitarist Bryce Dessner [The National] and learns what butter has to do with making these slippery rhythms stick.

When a band called made its debut more than a decade ago, it was considered an underdog in a busy independent music scene. The lead singer’s melancholy baritone and the lush instrumentation didn’t always fit the irony-laden swagger of the aughts. The National has endured, and these days it has a hard-won following. It headlines big concert halls and late-night talk shows.

Singer and lyricist Matt Berninger recently spoke with NPR’s Audie Cornish about the band’s new album, Trouble Will Find Me, as well as being in a band of brothers, how his own brother inspired “I Should Live in Salt” (and made about their tour together), and his own sheepish attitude toward the band’s recent success. You can listen to the radio version at the audio link and read more of their conversation below.

Tell us a little bit about the lyrics to “I Should Live in Salt.”

I write all the lyrics, and this one was sort of inspired — very much inspired — by my younger brother, Tom, who’s nine years younger than I am. And he was on my mind a lot while we were making this record because he was living with my wife and I at the time. Still — actually still does. So he was on my mind and in my house. But he came on tour with us when we were touring for High Violet and made a film [Mistaken for Strangers] about his experience there, which is, which was — it’s a complicated movie. We’re very different brothers. Whereas I might be kind of buttoned-up and ambitious, he’s more lax in his approach to the universe, I guess. We love each other a great deal, but there’s often a lot of conflict between the two of us.

And there’s some fun imagery in one of the verses: “Can you turn the TV down? You should know me better than that.”

The lyrics to that are like a bunch of little fragments of thoughts about him. And, truthfully, it’s about us actually getting to know each other as adults, because I went off to college when he was a little kid. He was 9 when I was 18 and went off to college, and then I moved to New York after that. And he kind of went his own — a different path.

I felt a lot of guilt, because I think [he] needed an older brother the most when you start hitting your teens, and that’s when I sort of took off and disappeared on him a little bit. I mean, we’ve been close our whole lives. But then, when he came and joined us on the tour as a roadie, it was the first time we were spending a lot of time together as adults. And it was a big shift in our relationship and trying to figure out how to love each other and respect each other as adults — not just this much older-younger brother sibling dynamic. So the song kind of is a reflection on all of that.

It’s interesting, because the band The National is made up of siblings. There are Aaron and Bryce Dessner, and also Scott and Bryan Devendorf. So you’re the guy who doesn’t have a brother there.

And that’s always been a really healthy part of our band dynamic and stuff; it’s very much sort of the glue that’s kept our band together for 14 years. And I actually missed my brother, and I also was envious of the relationship they had — that they were traveling the world with their brother and had that person to lean on and vent to. When my brother came on tour with us — to have someone to lean on and complain about the other guys to or whatever, because there’s so much tension living in a bus together.

And you said you felt a little guilt, but the chorus is, “I should live in salt for leaving you behind.”

Honestly, that was just kind of an abstract image or something in my head and I don’t know. I think Lot’s wife turned to salt when she looked back at the city. I think they used to pack bodies in salt. So there’s not specifically any meaning into it directly, but it seemed like a bad thing to have to live in salt. A lot of my lyrics are approximate meaning without me knowing why they sound right.

How did your brother react to this? Now that the movie is over that he was making and you’re coming out with this album, what’s that relationship like?

Our relationship is much better. It’s good; it went through a healthy sort of rebirth of understanding each other, like I said, as adults. And he’s 33 now. He was 30 when he came on tour with us. But as far as the song goes, when he heard the song, he thought the song was about salt. He didn’t — he had no idea that it was about him at first.

But he is a heavy-metal guy. He does not listen to a lot of indie-rock, which I guess that’s the demographic or something that our band fits into. So he — it’s funny, we’re extremely different in many, many ways, but then, underneath the surface, I think we are very much brothers. There was a breaking point where we realized that he’s very different than I am and we’re both adults now. That’s when I think a whole different level of respect happened. I mean, we still fight like crazy like brothers or anybody does, but we just had to understand each other as people and not as older brother, younger brother.

I don’t know if this is right, but I read that you don’t play an instrument.

I don’t play an instrument. I pretend. I try to …

Air guitar? Or you mean they hand you a tambourine?

And I’m told to stop every time.

Your lyrics are very emotional and, on this particular album, speak very directly. It doesn’t feel like there’s a lot buried in all kinds of metaphors.

Yeah, I used to hide behind a lot of clever, colorful metaphors. There’s colorful stuff on this one, too, but this one is more direct, I think, and is more emotionally naked and a little raw, and I don’t know how that happened. Writing the lyrics, I was no longer really worried about the image of our band or what people will describe our band as because of this song or that. I mean, we’ve been described in the past as, you know, “sad sack” or “melodramatic,” and I absolutely understand. And I …

Wait. You’re saying you understand? Do you feel that way about your music sometimes?

I think our music is emotionally even-keeled. Meaning, I think our music is — most people’s music has the same amount, you know, of ingredients of sadness and humor, and I think our music is really funny, too. I mean, a lot of the lyrics are really funny. But I think it’s a pretty normal, healthy amount of both — darkness and light in our records. So I don’t think of us as darker than other bands.

We’ve been described as a miserablist, dark, moody band, and I get it. I get it, because I think my voice just sounds that way maybe, and there are places I dig into the dark stuff and sad and melodramatic stuff, but I love that. I do. I love to make songs out of some of those shadows — you know, some of the things you lie awake thinking about, social anxieties and romantic insecurities and all that stuff. And we never put a song on a record that doesn’t move us emotionally, no matter how catchy or academically interesting the song is. If it doesn’t do something to that pit in your stomach, your heart, it won’t make it onto our record. Over the years, that has become our only guiding sort of principle: If you feel it, then it’s good.

This makes me think of the song “Graceless,” actually, which at one point has the lyric that you “don’t have the sunny side to face this.” But it’s actually kind of an upbeat song.

A person with grace is somebody who’s socially graceful or is a classy person, but sometimes you just feel the opposite of that, and you just feel like a jerk and a loser and a weirdo. And, yeah, so, “I don’t have the sunny side to face this” is sort of a self-mocking wink, I guess. Because you would never describe, I think, most of our music as sunny.

But, yeah, the record goes all over the place, and our band has always kind of gone all over the place. And this record particularly, we let go of any anxiety of what kind of band we’re supposed to be or what kind of band is a cool kind of band, and so we just chased the songs. And I think part of it is I’ve got a 4-year-old daughter, Aaron’s got a baby girl and Bryan’s got two little boys, and I think there’s — having kids gave us some perspective … that actually our band isn’t that important. You know, if it disappeared tomorrow, we’d be fine and it’s not the center of our universe. And so, in a strange way, we made a very unguarded record because we weren’t so worried about disappearing overnight as a band, which can happen easily. I think we just stopped worrying about all that stuff that never helped us write songs in the first place.

You’ve been pretty forthcoming over the years about how the band is perceived. I read this quote in Rolling Stone, where you said, “When we started, we weren’t exactly a cool band like or , and for years, we tried to prove we weren’t boring white guys. This time around, we didn’t have to prove anything.” And I found that really interesting, because you kind of did come out of that class — the class of 2001, I guess?

We were in that class, but if we were in that class, we weren’t really in the class picture. We’d be blurry and way in the background on the side. It was funny: We practiced right next to Interpol; I went and I saw The Strokes at places like Don Hill’s and Mercury Lounge — little places before they became international superstars. And we put out our record right around the same time and it was largely ignored — and I’m certainly not complaining — maybe rightfully so. And in a funny way, I think we got lucky, because we sort of learned how to be a band and learned how to write songs together in the shadows a little bit, and I think that was good for us. And we learned how to play live and we learned how to be a good live band by playing in front of empty rooms and trying to win over people one fan at a time, and we did that for years and years. And it wasn’t until our — we made two records that were largely ignored, and then we made an EP called Cherry Tree that I think was just when the chemistry of our band started to boil a little bit.

The sound of each album is different. I mean, you can sort of see the development with each album.

Our record collections were so different that it took us three records to find our own voice a little bit — our own, what we are. And that kind of happened on Cherry Tree. I think is the first time that we really started to sound like The National — whatever that is — and that keeps evolving. But I think the fact that we didn’t get a lot of attention for the first six or seven years, you know, steeled our resolve and made us even more hungry and ambitious and made us work really hard. And ultimately, I think it was really healthy for us.

Does it feel like you’ve kind of outlasted or survived much of the music from that scene?

I don’t know. We just … when we were touring for High Violet, we did some festivals with The Strokes, and we were reminded again how unbelievable they are and stuff. But we have kind of built a different following or something.

I’m not picking on The Strokes. But for someone outside New York who maybe has a little Brooklyn-band fatigue from the past 10 years, it’s interesting to see out of all the bands, The National really survived and created a catalog of something.

I know we work our butts off and desperately are trying to make the best records we can every time, and try to put the best shows on. That’s all we have any control of. I think we’ve been lucky, too. But we’ve definitely — we’ve earned our stripes, I think. I don’t know, we feel very satisfied and happy with finally getting a little bit of attention, because we were in the shadows for so long.

It’s OK to say it. I feel like I need to give you permission to enjoy some success. [Laughs.]

I know. We got so used to being underdogs and being the sort of forgotten guys that now that we’re getting a lot of attention, it’s an awkward shift. And false humility is annoying, so, it’s — yeah, we’re doing great and we’re happy about it.

In trying to understand what a National song is, one thing I did see over and over again is this idea that your albums are slow-burners or growers; it doesn’t hit you in the face right away the way a pop song does. Can you talk a little bit about that?

We would have loved to have been popular right away. And we would love, you know, we would love for our records to hit people over the head immediately. But we’ve heard that from people — that it’s the fifth or sixth listen where it starts to reveal itself, you know. And I think just maybe the process of our neurotic tinkering of the songs often is why that happens; the songs turn and get shrouded in these little weird things that make them a little less direct or something, or obvious at first. I don’t know. It’s something we’ve talked about, but we don’t know what the chemistry is that causes that. We’ve learned to accept it about our music and not fight it.

And they have a lovely way of, by the time you’re nearing the end, really having blossomed into something big — you feel enveloped by the music.

Yeah, they do. We embrace the drama of a song, and it grows and it swells and then usually there’s a building of tension and then often a big release of tension. By no means is that a formula, but that happens a lot in our songs. We don’t think about it; it’s just we follow the song. In the end of “Sea of Love,” it finally just lets loose — the song had to do that, you know? The whole thing is so tense all the way up until that part, and it was writing the melodies and us playing together that we all just like, it’ll just go that way naturally. And it’s really fun and exciting when a song just has its own momentum and its own force and weight behind it, and you just get swept along with the thing as it goes. A good song will do that, and we’ll just let it sweep us wherever it wants to.