John Barry (1933-2011)
- Paweł Stroiński
- Ridley Scott
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- Arthur
- Nominacja do odkrycia roku
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A tytuły filmów można powielać? można i jakoś każdy czerpie zyski, wiec nie rozumiem decyzji sądu.
edit1 dzięki za wytłumaczenie
edit1 dzięki za wytłumaczenie
Ostatnio zmieniony czw lut 03, 2011 14:25 pm przez Arthur, łącznie zmieniany 1 raz.
Szczęście to jedyna rzecz, która się mnoży, gdy się ją dzieli. - Albert Schweitzer
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- Parkingowy przed studiem nagrań
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Kilka słów na temat "James Bond Theme". Proszę je jednak traktować z dystansem tak samo jak wyrok brytyjskiego sądu z 2001r. Jak było naprawdę, już nigdy się nie dowiemy.
Monty Norman skomponował "James Bond Theme" (utwór nr. 17), nie mający nic wspólnego z tym tematem Bonda, który wszyscy znamy. Utwór 17 miał się początkowo pojawiać w napisach początkowych, ale producenci (Saltzman i Broccoli) nie byli zadowoleni i za namową jednego z ludzi z ekipy filmowej, ściągnęli Barry'ego. Ten dostał od Normana kartkę z nutami piosenki "Good Sign, Bad Sign" pochodzącej z musicalu "House for Mr Biswas". Monty Norman chciał aby na bazie tej melodii stworzyć nowy temat Bonda. Ostatecznie John Barry wykorzystał w "James Bond Theme" kilkanaście nut z piosenki Normana, które składają się na część gitarowej melodii. Reszta, włącznie z aranżacją jest już autorstwa Barry'ego, choć nie do końca, bo podobno wykorzystał w "James Bond Theme" progresję akordową z pewnego klasycznego utworu z przełomu XX wieku. Nie potrafię sobie teraz przypomnieć z jakiego.
Pracę swą John Barry wykonał bez oglądania choćby fragmentu filmu, a jedynie po obejrzeniu rysunku przedstawiającego dość surowo wyglądającą twarz Seana Connery'ego.
Żeby dostrzec wkład Johna Barry'ego w temat Bonda, warto przesłuchać sobie jego debiutancki score "Beat Girl", a także odsłuchać "Good Sign, Bad Sign", którą Norman ponownie nagrał kilka lat temu dla potrzeb wyśmianego w środowisku albumu "Completing The Circle".
Norman wygrał proces nie z Barry'm a z gazetą The Sunday Times. Werdykt byłby najpewniej inny, gdyby żył duet producencki Saltzman/Broccoli i gdyby John Barry nie miał kłopotów z pamięcią (to m.in. z ich powodu bardzo rzadko udzielał w ostatnich latach wywiadów), przez które o ile wiem w jego zeznaniach pojawiły się sprzeczności.
Monty Norman skomponował "James Bond Theme" (utwór nr. 17), nie mający nic wspólnego z tym tematem Bonda, który wszyscy znamy. Utwór 17 miał się początkowo pojawiać w napisach początkowych, ale producenci (Saltzman i Broccoli) nie byli zadowoleni i za namową jednego z ludzi z ekipy filmowej, ściągnęli Barry'ego. Ten dostał od Normana kartkę z nutami piosenki "Good Sign, Bad Sign" pochodzącej z musicalu "House for Mr Biswas". Monty Norman chciał aby na bazie tej melodii stworzyć nowy temat Bonda. Ostatecznie John Barry wykorzystał w "James Bond Theme" kilkanaście nut z piosenki Normana, które składają się na część gitarowej melodii. Reszta, włącznie z aranżacją jest już autorstwa Barry'ego, choć nie do końca, bo podobno wykorzystał w "James Bond Theme" progresję akordową z pewnego klasycznego utworu z przełomu XX wieku. Nie potrafię sobie teraz przypomnieć z jakiego.
Pracę swą John Barry wykonał bez oglądania choćby fragmentu filmu, a jedynie po obejrzeniu rysunku przedstawiającego dość surowo wyglądającą twarz Seana Connery'ego.
Żeby dostrzec wkład Johna Barry'ego w temat Bonda, warto przesłuchać sobie jego debiutancki score "Beat Girl", a także odsłuchać "Good Sign, Bad Sign", którą Norman ponownie nagrał kilka lat temu dla potrzeb wyśmianego w środowisku albumu "Completing The Circle".
Norman wygrał proces nie z Barry'm a z gazetą The Sunday Times. Werdykt byłby najpewniej inny, gdyby żył duet producencki Saltzman/Broccoli i gdyby John Barry nie miał kłopotów z pamięcią (to m.in. z ich powodu bardzo rzadko udzielał w ostatnich latach wywiadów), przez które o ile wiem w jego zeznaniach pojawiły się sprzeczności.
- Wojteł
- John Williams
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Wow, cóż za wyczerpujące odpowiedzi, dziękuję bardzo
Poszperałem na youtube w poszukiwaniu "Good Sign, Bad Sign" i natknąłem się na film, pokazujący inne motywy wykorzystane przez Barry'ego:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8jjywVmz2EI
Dziękuję za wyjaśnienia

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8jjywVmz2EI
Dziękuję za wyjaśnienia

Haha Śląsk węgiel zadupie gwara
Alec Baldwin:
John Barry died on Sunday, and I wanted to take an opportunity to mourn the loss of one of the greatest composers in motion picture history.
The first time I attended the Oscars was in 1991, where my then wife, Kim Basinger, and I were asked to present the Oscar in the category of best original score, which went to Barry for Dances With Wolves. It was a great thrill for me, as I had long admired John's scores and who, at that point, had already received four Oscars (Two for Born Free, both score and song, The Lion in Winter and Out of Africa.)
Barry's career is a phenomenon. John is often cited as the composer of legendary songs and scores for the James Bond films. Beginning with earlier Bond films like Dr. No and From Russia With Love to his most memorable titles like Goldfinger, Thunderball and Diamonds Are Forever, to collaborations with rock artists like Duran Duran on A View to a Kill, Barry's music is as much a component of the Bond legend as Ian Fleming himself, and Bond actors like Sean Connery and Pierce Brosnan. You can play just the first two notes of the arrangement of Goldfinger and know right away that Shirley Bassey's famous vocals are coming.
Barry, however, is also responsible for clearly what are some of the most gorgeous, sensitive and ultimately effective scores in movie history. Films like Seance on a Wet Afternoon, Midnight Cowboy, Inside Moves, Body Heat, Frances, The Cotton Club and Indecent Proposal, all elevated by John's contribution.
In a career of such breadth, it's hard to pick a favorite. Yet, I actually can name one, and easily. Finding an appropriate musical complement to the story of Isak Dinesen and her romance with both Kenya and Denys Finch Hatton to accompany the work of Meryl Streep and Robert Redford, cinematographer David Watkin and writer Kurt Luedtke, and Sydney Pollack's incredible direction, is Barry's greatest achievement. John's score for Out of Africa is extraordinary. My favorite movie score of all. Ever.
The great John Barry passed on Sunday on Long Island. Thanks to him for his magnificent contributions to film.
Shirley Bassey:
I was very sad to hear of the death of my old friend John Barry, who was responsible for me singing the Bond songs Goldfinger, Diamonds Are Forever and Moonraker. He most recently wrote a song for my latest CD The Performance – it was a beautiful ballad, Our Time Is Now.
The world has lost a most gifted man. My thoughts and my prayers are with his family.
Don Black:
For proof of the legendary composer John Barry's genius, all you have to do is close your eyes and think of the film Born Free.
The first thing that comes back to you is the music.
It’s nearly impossible to think of that iconic film without remembering its rousing accompaniment.
The same can be said of a host of famous movies, from the James Bond classics Diamonds Are Forever and Goldfinger to Out Of Africa and Dances With Wolves — all scored by John.
For many of the past 50 years, I was his lyricist.
Since hearing of his death on Sunday, I’ve been inundated by emails and texts from his fans around the world.
From the first James Bond film, Dr No in 1962, he revolutionised film music. He was a musical dramatist whose gift was matching music to film.
John had a way of connecting emotionally with a story — an understanding that resulted in the most beautiful and appropriate music — a skill that was in many ways at odds with his brusque Yorkshire roots.
He was passionate about his work. I remember in the Sixties when we were at John's apartment in London with Bond producer Harry Saltzman.
He told us he didn’t like the tune for Diamonds Are Forever and the lyrics were too sexy.
John exploded, told Saltzman he didn’t know anything about song writing and threw him out. I thought we were finished, but luckily Bond producer Albert ‘Cubby’ Broccoli loved it.
On another occasion, John stood up to Barbra Streisand, which is not something many people have done.
She asked him to work with her on the film Prince Of Tides and when he sent her a score she told him it was the best she’d ever heard.
He was pleased, so when she rang the next day to see if he could try something different, he agreed. Again, she praised it.
But when she rang again, asking for another attempt, he refused point blank, telling her working with her had been a thoroughly joyless experience.
That was the end of his work with Streisand — but with more than 90 movie scores to his credit he could afford to let that one go.
Luckily for him, other women were more enamoured with him.
He had three short marriages, including a three-year union with the actress Jane Birkin, before marrying the love of his life, Laurie, in 1978.
During his 'hell-raising' early years, he was a bit of a womaniser and drank a lot.
I never really got to know any of his early wives — I’m not sure he did — but with Laurie he found lasting happiness.
They had a son (he has three other children from previous relationships) and lived in Oyster Bay outside New York. John spent his days quietly, swimming in his heated pool, reading and listening to music.
When he died of a heart attack aged 77, millions around the world were probably listening to music, too — his music.
Born John Barry Prendergast in York on November 3, 1933, his mother was a pianist and his father ran a chain of cinemas.
It was this early exposure to film that honed John’s talent. From the age of three, his father would perch him on his knee to watch the latest releases.
John trained as a classical pianist, but was always more drawn to jazz and loved to play the trumpet.
It was while on National Service as a bandsman in Cyprus and Egypt that he began composing.
He took a correspondence course with a jazz composer and started arranging music for his band, The John Barry Seven.
While he will be remembered for his orchestral melodies, he actually got his first taste of fame on the pop scene.
In the late Fifties, he composed the theme tune to the hugely successful TV music show Juke Box Jury, before becoming a regular guest on another music show, Drumbeat.
His movie debut was Adam Faith’s first film, Beat Girl, in 1960: John composed, arranged and conducted the score.
But the breakthrough that was to make his name came when the producers of Dr No asked him to rearrange a theme tune by British composer Monty Norman. The result was the iconic James Bond theme tune.
The scores for the second Bond film From Russia With Love and war film Zulu followed, so when in 1964 John asked if I’d like to write the lyrics to Thunderball, it was a golden opportunity.
I had been working in London as an office boy and then music promoter, before becoming manager for singer Matt Monro.
John told me he had always loved the lyrics to a song I had written for Monro called Walk Away, and asked if I would like to work with him.
It was the start of what can only be described as a half-century romance.
Working with John was a joy, because he didn’t present you with a rough idea, but a finished product.
You knew by the time you got hold of the music he would have agonised over it, rewritten it and honed it until it was perfect.
He would watch an entire film without sound before beginning to work his magic.
He got up early, around 5.30am, and would work solidly until noon. John wasn’t a great pianist, but he would compose at the piano and then have it played back to him so he could critique it.
At NOON, he always stopped for lunch — and they could be raucous affairs. If we were in London, we went to traditional restaurants such as Wiltons.
In his later life, John was thin and frail — he was vulnerable to pneumonia, and a bad reaction to a health tonic in 1988 had left him with a ruptured oesophagus.
Though he loved cracked crab and his favourite tipple was expensive French Delamain brandy, he never ate much.
When we finished lunch, he’d go shopping for a luxury watch or a copy of a first edition book.
He loved American and British politics, and anything to do with Churchill or Nabokov. Another habit was shopping in bespoke men’s stores where you had to ring a bell and be admitted personally.
Just like his music, John Barry was an elegant man.
As the years passed, our success took us to New York and Los Angeles, and saw us both win Oscars for Born Free.
John went on to win another four Oscars and four Grammys, but he never forgot his Yorkshire sensibilities.
I used to tease him because although he spent many years living in New York, he didn’t become Americanised — he never even set foot in a deli.
He was immoveable about his music, and didn’t suffer fools gladly.
That inner confidence helped imbue his music with the elegance it is famous for.
He had a signature style — lush strings and orchestral swells — that made his songs instantly recognisable.
Just as you know a Sinatra song from the first few bars, you can spot a John Barry score from the opening chords.
He may have gone, but the gift of his music will be with us for decades to come.
John Barry died on Sunday, and I wanted to take an opportunity to mourn the loss of one of the greatest composers in motion picture history.
The first time I attended the Oscars was in 1991, where my then wife, Kim Basinger, and I were asked to present the Oscar in the category of best original score, which went to Barry for Dances With Wolves. It was a great thrill for me, as I had long admired John's scores and who, at that point, had already received four Oscars (Two for Born Free, both score and song, The Lion in Winter and Out of Africa.)
Barry's career is a phenomenon. John is often cited as the composer of legendary songs and scores for the James Bond films. Beginning with earlier Bond films like Dr. No and From Russia With Love to his most memorable titles like Goldfinger, Thunderball and Diamonds Are Forever, to collaborations with rock artists like Duran Duran on A View to a Kill, Barry's music is as much a component of the Bond legend as Ian Fleming himself, and Bond actors like Sean Connery and Pierce Brosnan. You can play just the first two notes of the arrangement of Goldfinger and know right away that Shirley Bassey's famous vocals are coming.
Barry, however, is also responsible for clearly what are some of the most gorgeous, sensitive and ultimately effective scores in movie history. Films like Seance on a Wet Afternoon, Midnight Cowboy, Inside Moves, Body Heat, Frances, The Cotton Club and Indecent Proposal, all elevated by John's contribution.
In a career of such breadth, it's hard to pick a favorite. Yet, I actually can name one, and easily. Finding an appropriate musical complement to the story of Isak Dinesen and her romance with both Kenya and Denys Finch Hatton to accompany the work of Meryl Streep and Robert Redford, cinematographer David Watkin and writer Kurt Luedtke, and Sydney Pollack's incredible direction, is Barry's greatest achievement. John's score for Out of Africa is extraordinary. My favorite movie score of all. Ever.
The great John Barry passed on Sunday on Long Island. Thanks to him for his magnificent contributions to film.
Shirley Bassey:
I was very sad to hear of the death of my old friend John Barry, who was responsible for me singing the Bond songs Goldfinger, Diamonds Are Forever and Moonraker. He most recently wrote a song for my latest CD The Performance – it was a beautiful ballad, Our Time Is Now.
The world has lost a most gifted man. My thoughts and my prayers are with his family.
Don Black:
For proof of the legendary composer John Barry's genius, all you have to do is close your eyes and think of the film Born Free.
The first thing that comes back to you is the music.
It’s nearly impossible to think of that iconic film without remembering its rousing accompaniment.
The same can be said of a host of famous movies, from the James Bond classics Diamonds Are Forever and Goldfinger to Out Of Africa and Dances With Wolves — all scored by John.
For many of the past 50 years, I was his lyricist.
Since hearing of his death on Sunday, I’ve been inundated by emails and texts from his fans around the world.
From the first James Bond film, Dr No in 1962, he revolutionised film music. He was a musical dramatist whose gift was matching music to film.
John had a way of connecting emotionally with a story — an understanding that resulted in the most beautiful and appropriate music — a skill that was in many ways at odds with his brusque Yorkshire roots.
He was passionate about his work. I remember in the Sixties when we were at John's apartment in London with Bond producer Harry Saltzman.
He told us he didn’t like the tune for Diamonds Are Forever and the lyrics were too sexy.
John exploded, told Saltzman he didn’t know anything about song writing and threw him out. I thought we were finished, but luckily Bond producer Albert ‘Cubby’ Broccoli loved it.
On another occasion, John stood up to Barbra Streisand, which is not something many people have done.
She asked him to work with her on the film Prince Of Tides and when he sent her a score she told him it was the best she’d ever heard.
He was pleased, so when she rang the next day to see if he could try something different, he agreed. Again, she praised it.
But when she rang again, asking for another attempt, he refused point blank, telling her working with her had been a thoroughly joyless experience.
That was the end of his work with Streisand — but with more than 90 movie scores to his credit he could afford to let that one go.
Luckily for him, other women were more enamoured with him.
He had three short marriages, including a three-year union with the actress Jane Birkin, before marrying the love of his life, Laurie, in 1978.
During his 'hell-raising' early years, he was a bit of a womaniser and drank a lot.
I never really got to know any of his early wives — I’m not sure he did — but with Laurie he found lasting happiness.
They had a son (he has three other children from previous relationships) and lived in Oyster Bay outside New York. John spent his days quietly, swimming in his heated pool, reading and listening to music.
When he died of a heart attack aged 77, millions around the world were probably listening to music, too — his music.
Born John Barry Prendergast in York on November 3, 1933, his mother was a pianist and his father ran a chain of cinemas.
It was this early exposure to film that honed John’s talent. From the age of three, his father would perch him on his knee to watch the latest releases.
John trained as a classical pianist, but was always more drawn to jazz and loved to play the trumpet.
It was while on National Service as a bandsman in Cyprus and Egypt that he began composing.
He took a correspondence course with a jazz composer and started arranging music for his band, The John Barry Seven.
While he will be remembered for his orchestral melodies, he actually got his first taste of fame on the pop scene.
In the late Fifties, he composed the theme tune to the hugely successful TV music show Juke Box Jury, before becoming a regular guest on another music show, Drumbeat.
His movie debut was Adam Faith’s first film, Beat Girl, in 1960: John composed, arranged and conducted the score.
But the breakthrough that was to make his name came when the producers of Dr No asked him to rearrange a theme tune by British composer Monty Norman. The result was the iconic James Bond theme tune.
The scores for the second Bond film From Russia With Love and war film Zulu followed, so when in 1964 John asked if I’d like to write the lyrics to Thunderball, it was a golden opportunity.
I had been working in London as an office boy and then music promoter, before becoming manager for singer Matt Monro.
John told me he had always loved the lyrics to a song I had written for Monro called Walk Away, and asked if I would like to work with him.
It was the start of what can only be described as a half-century romance.
Working with John was a joy, because he didn’t present you with a rough idea, but a finished product.
You knew by the time you got hold of the music he would have agonised over it, rewritten it and honed it until it was perfect.
He would watch an entire film without sound before beginning to work his magic.
He got up early, around 5.30am, and would work solidly until noon. John wasn’t a great pianist, but he would compose at the piano and then have it played back to him so he could critique it.
At NOON, he always stopped for lunch — and they could be raucous affairs. If we were in London, we went to traditional restaurants such as Wiltons.
In his later life, John was thin and frail — he was vulnerable to pneumonia, and a bad reaction to a health tonic in 1988 had left him with a ruptured oesophagus.
Though he loved cracked crab and his favourite tipple was expensive French Delamain brandy, he never ate much.
When we finished lunch, he’d go shopping for a luxury watch or a copy of a first edition book.
He loved American and British politics, and anything to do with Churchill or Nabokov. Another habit was shopping in bespoke men’s stores where you had to ring a bell and be admitted personally.
Just like his music, John Barry was an elegant man.
As the years passed, our success took us to New York and Los Angeles, and saw us both win Oscars for Born Free.
John went on to win another four Oscars and four Grammys, but he never forgot his Yorkshire sensibilities.
I used to tease him because although he spent many years living in New York, he didn’t become Americanised — he never even set foot in a deli.
He was immoveable about his music, and didn’t suffer fools gladly.
That inner confidence helped imbue his music with the elegance it is famous for.
He had a signature style — lush strings and orchestral swells — that made his songs instantly recognisable.
Just as you know a Sinatra song from the first few bars, you can spot a John Barry score from the opening chords.
He may have gone, but the gift of his music will be with us for decades to come.
#FUCKVINYL
"JOHN BARRY: AN APPRECIATION - celebrated composer's innovative film scores will always live somewhere in time" by Jon Burlingame
(dla The Film Music Society.org).
John Barry was one of a kind. He invented a new style of action-adventure music for the movies — that much is certain — but he was equally adept at quiet dramas, historical epics and contemporary thrillers. And what's more, he could write music appropriate to all of these kinds of movies and still sound like nobody else.
Barry's death on Sunday marks the passing of an era. Yes, some of our musical icons from the 1960s, '70s and '80s are still around, still writing, still conducting... but the loss of John Barry is keenly felt simply because there was no one quite like him.
He had the good fortune to musically launch the James Bond franchise because the twangy-guitar-driven, jazz-rock sound of the John Barry Seven was considered a commercially viable choice for the Bond theme. The result was a fresh approach for all of the 007 movies: bold and brassy, what he called "million-dollar Mickey Mouse music," not in any derogatory fashion but rather describing a lively, fun, pop-orchestral style that was perfect for the exploits of a globetrotting, larger-than-life British spy. Goldfinger, Thunderball, You Only Live Twice, Diamonds Are Forever — their brash title songs and powerful scores were unlike anything we'd ever heard in the cinema.
"He revolutionized film music," lyricist Don Black said this week. "John Barry is the reason I wanted to write film music," composer David Arnold wrote. "Barry was the master of encapsulating the spirit of an entire motion picture with the simplicity of a perfect theme," his longtime agent Richard Kraft said shortly after Barry's passing.
Dozens of writers over the years have attempted to analyze the Barry sound — what makes his music so memorable, so unusual, so unique? "Just as you know a Sinatra song from the first few bars, you can spot a John Barry score from the opening chords," Black said. "Every tune he wrote felt like it took you to places you'd never have imagined," added Arnold.
Barry's unusual musical education is certainly part of the answer. The son of a pianist and a theater-chain owner, he studied music with Dr. Francis Jackson at the great cathedral in York Minster; then augmented his classical training with a correspondence course from Stan Kenton's great jazz arranger Bill Russo. And he had years of practical experience, not only arranging for military bands in the service but also playing trumpet for his own band in the late 1950s, then writing arrangements for pop singers into the early 1960s. But his early love of movies, and all those symphonic scores by such scoring pioneers as Steiner, Korngold and Waxman, instilled in him a sense of musical drama that would play out decades later in his own music.
It was also the times he lived through. He never forgot the German bombing of York during World War II, which cost him childhood friends and, he once told me, may have influenced his penchant for melancholy themes. In later years, the smart and talented young composer found himself in the midst of London's Swinging Sixties. Carousing with the likes of Michael Caine and Terence Stamp, he lived high and wild, marrying four times — although Laurie, his fourth wife, was the real thing, a union that lasted 33 years until his death. (Nobody doubts that it was Laurie's insistence on the finest medical care that saved his life after his esophagus ruptured, requiring multiple surgeries, in 1988.)
This surprising combination of musical education, dramatic instincts, and a sense of living life to its fullest, forged a unique musical talent: Someone who could tell the director of Born Free that he wasn't making a political statement but rather an ersatz Disney movie that needed a populist touch; who could apply his Catholic upbringing and choral training to an 11th-century story about Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine and turn it into an Oscar-winning score for The Lion in Winter; inform director Sydney Pollack that his movie wasn't really about Africa but rather about two lost souls who found each other, briefly; and write a symphonic score for an epic about a Civil War soldier discovering the vast American plains and the Lakota culture without reference to Indian music — because, in his view, that wasn't what the movie was about. These latter two — Out of Africa and Dances With Wolves — also earned Oscars for Barry's scores.
Along the way, there were the Bryan Forbes films that required a gentler touch: the alto flutes of Séance on a Wet Afternoon, the harpsichord for a lonely old woman in The Whisperers and the guitar concerto of Deadfall. And those other classic '60s scores: the massive orchestral might of Zulu, the jazz organ of The Knack, the quizzical saxophones of Petulia and the raw harmonica of Midnight Cowboy. He added choral forces to The Last Valley, Walkabout and Mary Queen of Scots. He was always on the lookout for new sounds that would add aural spice to his scores: The cimbalum lent an atmospheric, vaguely Eastern European touch to The Ipcress File; a Moog synthesizer updated the sound of James Bond in On Her Majesty's Secret Service; and a mandolin added Continental colors to The Adventurer.
Perhaps the masterpiece of all these sonic explorations was his theme for TV's The Persuaders!, the lighthearted Tony Curtis-Roger Moore romp: He combined cimbalum, the Finnish kantele, mandolin and mandola, with electronic keyboards and rhythm section for a stunning, never-equalled television signature that spent longer on the British charts in 1971 than Barry's recording of the Bond theme had done in 1962.
Later years brought a more sedate, romantic sound to the Barry output, including the touching Robin and Marian, emotionally rich scores for Somewhere in Time and Out of Africa, and his sweeping, multi-thematic tone poem for the still-unspoiled Western frontier, Dances With Wolves. Yet he could still reach back to his jazz roots for movies like Body Heat, The Cotton Club and Playing by Heart.
The tributes pouring in from around the world have necessarily focused on the film work, but there was so much more that deserves exploration and examination. Of his five stage musicals, only one (Billy, with a pre-Phantom of the Opera Michael Crawford) was a massive West End hit. But he collaborated with Alan Jay Lerner on Lolita, My Love and later tried to mount the children's classic The Little Prince on Broadway; both conceptually flawed but daring artistic choices that, someday, may be widely heard. Even his made-for-television movies were special: The fragility of his piano theme for The Glass Menagerie, the grandeur of Eleanor and Franklin, the nostalgic charm of Love Among the Ruins (in which Laurence Olivier himself sang the theme).
In person, John Barry was warm and friendly, open and often very funny. He was a private man, to be sure — he had enjoyed a very public persona back in the 1960s but for the past three decades preferred the quiet life in Oyster Bay, N.Y., halfway between Los Angeles and London. If pressed, he could regale you with tales of Harry Saltzman's hatred of the Bond songs, of informing Barbra Streisand that he wasn't going to stand for tampering with his music, of trying to write King Kong reel by reel in order to make the release date, of the constant search for new sonorities, new flavors, new thematic ideas. Ask about those Swinging Sixties, he would try and steer you away from the topic as overrated, but the twinkle in his eye also told you he was glad to have participated.
I interviewed him often over the past 25 years, most recently for a special Variety section in 2008 on the occasion of his 75th birthday. We were with him at Carnegie Hall for the live concert performance of The Lion in Winter in 2004, and then became among the privileged few to hear his new song score for the short-lived Brighton Rock musical during its six-week tryout later that year in London. But no thrill may ever top being present for his triumphant return to public performance, conducting the English Chamber Orchestra before a sold-out Royal Albert Hall crowd in 1998. As the London Times' Caitlin Moran put it at the time: "The three standing ovations he received were the most devoted clappings I've ever seen in my life. From up in the circle, it looked like praying. Entirely understandable."
For me, the obscure recordings resonate as much, if not more, than the big hits: The soaring "Girl With the Sun in Her Hair," originally written for a shampoo commercial; tracks like "Who Will Buy My Yesterdays" and "The More Things Change" from Ready When You Are, J.B.; the magnificent choral-and-orchestral tapestry of James Clavell's Thirty Years War saga The Last Valley; the haunting title tune of his failed musical Lolita, My Love; the gorgeous ballads in his only film musical, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland; the evocative, bittersweet scores for films like Chaplin and Swept From the Sea; and his autobiographical concept albums Americans, The Beyondness of Things and Eternal Echoes. These three albums, especially, capture the personality of the man as much as any writing about him could.
Earlier this week, Richard Kraft offered this startling revelation: "Jerry Goldsmith once told me that if he was ever making a movie, the composer he would choose to score it would be John Barry — because no one else was better at creating music that best captured the heart of a film." Veteran keyboard player Mike Lang, whose piano work graced many Barry scores, said "His music spoke from his heart and bonded with film as no other."
We have lost one of the true giants of the last 50 years of film music. But the legacy of John Barry — that extraordinary canon of themes, scores and sounds unique to the man and his times — remains. Future generations, just discovering Barry's music, will envy us; they will only be able to imagine how exciting it was to hear a new John Barry score for a film, a television show, a stage musical or an album. How lucky we were.
(dla The Film Music Society.org).
John Barry was one of a kind. He invented a new style of action-adventure music for the movies — that much is certain — but he was equally adept at quiet dramas, historical epics and contemporary thrillers. And what's more, he could write music appropriate to all of these kinds of movies and still sound like nobody else.
Barry's death on Sunday marks the passing of an era. Yes, some of our musical icons from the 1960s, '70s and '80s are still around, still writing, still conducting... but the loss of John Barry is keenly felt simply because there was no one quite like him.
He had the good fortune to musically launch the James Bond franchise because the twangy-guitar-driven, jazz-rock sound of the John Barry Seven was considered a commercially viable choice for the Bond theme. The result was a fresh approach for all of the 007 movies: bold and brassy, what he called "million-dollar Mickey Mouse music," not in any derogatory fashion but rather describing a lively, fun, pop-orchestral style that was perfect for the exploits of a globetrotting, larger-than-life British spy. Goldfinger, Thunderball, You Only Live Twice, Diamonds Are Forever — their brash title songs and powerful scores were unlike anything we'd ever heard in the cinema.
"He revolutionized film music," lyricist Don Black said this week. "John Barry is the reason I wanted to write film music," composer David Arnold wrote. "Barry was the master of encapsulating the spirit of an entire motion picture with the simplicity of a perfect theme," his longtime agent Richard Kraft said shortly after Barry's passing.
Dozens of writers over the years have attempted to analyze the Barry sound — what makes his music so memorable, so unusual, so unique? "Just as you know a Sinatra song from the first few bars, you can spot a John Barry score from the opening chords," Black said. "Every tune he wrote felt like it took you to places you'd never have imagined," added Arnold.
Barry's unusual musical education is certainly part of the answer. The son of a pianist and a theater-chain owner, he studied music with Dr. Francis Jackson at the great cathedral in York Minster; then augmented his classical training with a correspondence course from Stan Kenton's great jazz arranger Bill Russo. And he had years of practical experience, not only arranging for military bands in the service but also playing trumpet for his own band in the late 1950s, then writing arrangements for pop singers into the early 1960s. But his early love of movies, and all those symphonic scores by such scoring pioneers as Steiner, Korngold and Waxman, instilled in him a sense of musical drama that would play out decades later in his own music.
It was also the times he lived through. He never forgot the German bombing of York during World War II, which cost him childhood friends and, he once told me, may have influenced his penchant for melancholy themes. In later years, the smart and talented young composer found himself in the midst of London's Swinging Sixties. Carousing with the likes of Michael Caine and Terence Stamp, he lived high and wild, marrying four times — although Laurie, his fourth wife, was the real thing, a union that lasted 33 years until his death. (Nobody doubts that it was Laurie's insistence on the finest medical care that saved his life after his esophagus ruptured, requiring multiple surgeries, in 1988.)
This surprising combination of musical education, dramatic instincts, and a sense of living life to its fullest, forged a unique musical talent: Someone who could tell the director of Born Free that he wasn't making a political statement but rather an ersatz Disney movie that needed a populist touch; who could apply his Catholic upbringing and choral training to an 11th-century story about Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine and turn it into an Oscar-winning score for The Lion in Winter; inform director Sydney Pollack that his movie wasn't really about Africa but rather about two lost souls who found each other, briefly; and write a symphonic score for an epic about a Civil War soldier discovering the vast American plains and the Lakota culture without reference to Indian music — because, in his view, that wasn't what the movie was about. These latter two — Out of Africa and Dances With Wolves — also earned Oscars for Barry's scores.
Along the way, there were the Bryan Forbes films that required a gentler touch: the alto flutes of Séance on a Wet Afternoon, the harpsichord for a lonely old woman in The Whisperers and the guitar concerto of Deadfall. And those other classic '60s scores: the massive orchestral might of Zulu, the jazz organ of The Knack, the quizzical saxophones of Petulia and the raw harmonica of Midnight Cowboy. He added choral forces to The Last Valley, Walkabout and Mary Queen of Scots. He was always on the lookout for new sounds that would add aural spice to his scores: The cimbalum lent an atmospheric, vaguely Eastern European touch to The Ipcress File; a Moog synthesizer updated the sound of James Bond in On Her Majesty's Secret Service; and a mandolin added Continental colors to The Adventurer.
Perhaps the masterpiece of all these sonic explorations was his theme for TV's The Persuaders!, the lighthearted Tony Curtis-Roger Moore romp: He combined cimbalum, the Finnish kantele, mandolin and mandola, with electronic keyboards and rhythm section for a stunning, never-equalled television signature that spent longer on the British charts in 1971 than Barry's recording of the Bond theme had done in 1962.
Later years brought a more sedate, romantic sound to the Barry output, including the touching Robin and Marian, emotionally rich scores for Somewhere in Time and Out of Africa, and his sweeping, multi-thematic tone poem for the still-unspoiled Western frontier, Dances With Wolves. Yet he could still reach back to his jazz roots for movies like Body Heat, The Cotton Club and Playing by Heart.
The tributes pouring in from around the world have necessarily focused on the film work, but there was so much more that deserves exploration and examination. Of his five stage musicals, only one (Billy, with a pre-Phantom of the Opera Michael Crawford) was a massive West End hit. But he collaborated with Alan Jay Lerner on Lolita, My Love and later tried to mount the children's classic The Little Prince on Broadway; both conceptually flawed but daring artistic choices that, someday, may be widely heard. Even his made-for-television movies were special: The fragility of his piano theme for The Glass Menagerie, the grandeur of Eleanor and Franklin, the nostalgic charm of Love Among the Ruins (in which Laurence Olivier himself sang the theme).
In person, John Barry was warm and friendly, open and often very funny. He was a private man, to be sure — he had enjoyed a very public persona back in the 1960s but for the past three decades preferred the quiet life in Oyster Bay, N.Y., halfway between Los Angeles and London. If pressed, he could regale you with tales of Harry Saltzman's hatred of the Bond songs, of informing Barbra Streisand that he wasn't going to stand for tampering with his music, of trying to write King Kong reel by reel in order to make the release date, of the constant search for new sonorities, new flavors, new thematic ideas. Ask about those Swinging Sixties, he would try and steer you away from the topic as overrated, but the twinkle in his eye also told you he was glad to have participated.
I interviewed him often over the past 25 years, most recently for a special Variety section in 2008 on the occasion of his 75th birthday. We were with him at Carnegie Hall for the live concert performance of The Lion in Winter in 2004, and then became among the privileged few to hear his new song score for the short-lived Brighton Rock musical during its six-week tryout later that year in London. But no thrill may ever top being present for his triumphant return to public performance, conducting the English Chamber Orchestra before a sold-out Royal Albert Hall crowd in 1998. As the London Times' Caitlin Moran put it at the time: "The three standing ovations he received were the most devoted clappings I've ever seen in my life. From up in the circle, it looked like praying. Entirely understandable."
For me, the obscure recordings resonate as much, if not more, than the big hits: The soaring "Girl With the Sun in Her Hair," originally written for a shampoo commercial; tracks like "Who Will Buy My Yesterdays" and "The More Things Change" from Ready When You Are, J.B.; the magnificent choral-and-orchestral tapestry of James Clavell's Thirty Years War saga The Last Valley; the haunting title tune of his failed musical Lolita, My Love; the gorgeous ballads in his only film musical, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland; the evocative, bittersweet scores for films like Chaplin and Swept From the Sea; and his autobiographical concept albums Americans, The Beyondness of Things and Eternal Echoes. These three albums, especially, capture the personality of the man as much as any writing about him could.
Earlier this week, Richard Kraft offered this startling revelation: "Jerry Goldsmith once told me that if he was ever making a movie, the composer he would choose to score it would be John Barry — because no one else was better at creating music that best captured the heart of a film." Veteran keyboard player Mike Lang, whose piano work graced many Barry scores, said "His music spoke from his heart and bonded with film as no other."
We have lost one of the true giants of the last 50 years of film music. But the legacy of John Barry — that extraordinary canon of themes, scores and sounds unique to the man and his times — remains. Future generations, just discovering Barry's music, will envy us; they will only be able to imagine how exciting it was to hear a new John Barry score for a film, a television show, a stage musical or an album. How lucky we were.
Re: JOHN BARRY - R.I.P. - 1933-2011
mega info
:
Brit Awards will honour James Bond composer John Barry next month, following his death in January.
His widow Laurie Barry said: "John would be so honoured to be receiving the outstanding contribution to music award... we are very grateful."
Barry wrote scores for more than 100 films including 11 Bond movies, Born Free and Midnight Cowboy.
Dame Shirley Bassey will perform the track Goldfinger at the ceremony at the Royal Albert Hall in London on 12 May.
Several of Barry's best-known themes will be performed by the London Chamber Orchestra at the awards.
It will be the first time that a posthumous pize has been awarded at the event since its inception in 2000.
szacun

Brit Awards will honour James Bond composer John Barry next month, following his death in January.
His widow Laurie Barry said: "John would be so honoured to be receiving the outstanding contribution to music award... we are very grateful."
Barry wrote scores for more than 100 films including 11 Bond movies, Born Free and Midnight Cowboy.
Dame Shirley Bassey will perform the track Goldfinger at the ceremony at the Royal Albert Hall in London on 12 May.
Several of Barry's best-known themes will be performed by the London Chamber Orchestra at the awards.
It will be the first time that a posthumous pize has been awarded at the event since its inception in 2000.
szacun

#FUCKVINYL
Re: JOHN BARRY - R.I.P. - 1933-2011
cała ceremonia tribute z nagród BRIT - niezłe aranże
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYCIR72iXVY
oraz występ Bassey po orkiestrze:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_YFdL_YTT7A


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYCIR72iXVY
oraz występ Bassey po orkiestrze:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_YFdL_YTT7A
#FUCKVINYL
Re: JOHN BARRY - R.I.P. - 1933-2011
ale to Beyondness of things nieco z dupy dodali, in minus też przerobienie Tańczącego na jakąś operę - bleh (przynajmniej paniusia ładna). Za to Basseyowa w formie widzę 

Re: JOHN BARRY - R.I.P. - 1933-2011
bilety na koncert tribute do royal a.hall wyprzedane całkowicie. u koników ceny od 400F.
#FUCKVINYL
Re: JOHN BARRY - R.I.P. - 1933-2011
recka koncertu - http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-13777242
ile vipów.. nawet Dalton był i syn Barryego pokazał się światu po raz pierwszy od czasów małego dziecka
masę fot:
afterparty: http://www1.wireimage.com/GalleryListin ... 165&nbc1=1
koncert: http://www1.wireimage.com/GalleryListin ... 1=1&VwMd=i
koncert: http://www.gettyimages.co.uk/Search/Sea ... =116724929
ile vipów.. nawet Dalton był i syn Barryego pokazał się światu po raz pierwszy od czasów małego dziecka

masę fot:
afterparty: http://www1.wireimage.com/GalleryListin ... 165&nbc1=1
koncert: http://www1.wireimage.com/GalleryListin ... 1=1&VwMd=i
koncert: http://www.gettyimages.co.uk/Search/Sea ... =116724929
#FUCKVINYL
- Krelian
- Ghostwriter znanego twórcy
- Posty: 895
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Re: JOHN BARRY - R.I.P. - 1933-2011
szkoda że nigdzie nie można zobaczyć koncertu (oprócz jutubowych filmów z amatorskich kamer słabej jakości)
Re: JOHN BARRY - R.I.P. - 1933-2011
cały koncert będzie puszczony w radiu BBC
Barry memorial concert to be aired on BBC Radio 2, July 1st
What: Friday Night is Music Night
Date: 1st July 2011
Time: 20:00
Channel: BBC Radio 2

Barry memorial concert to be aired on BBC Radio 2, July 1st
What: Friday Night is Music Night
Date: 1st July 2011
Time: 20:00
Channel: BBC Radio 2
#FUCKVINYL
Re: JOHN BARRY - R.I.P. - 1933-2011
#FUCKVINYL