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06/12/2018
Meggi
212 Reviews
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Meggi
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23
Better without Espressivoätzchen
At the end we pick up the antics thread - first of all the scent: Well, you have to moan around; I have no idea what Champaka smells like. Possibly the diffuse florality that blows everything away? But we do not want to anticipate, 'Holi Water' opens fresh green spicy, minty ethereal. Very suitable on a warm spring day.
Within seconds, of course, an almost resinous-bitter aura is added - which at the same time appears diffusely floral. Coumarin prickles gives you a certain pizzazz. I am very impressed, not least because the combination of limonadic sparkling freshness and the astringency from afar reminds me of one of my favourite summerlings: 'Italian Citrus' by D.S. & Durga. Not a twin at all, just by that sort of thing. The freshness is not energizingly cheerful or fluttering, but has dignity.
The fragrance quickly darkens further. After barely an hour, nutty earthy vetiver is clear and in the course of the morning ensures a continuation of the distinctive contrasting, now of dark earthy notes and said limonadesque freshness. I smell over a slightly plastic vanilla from the third hour onwards and prefer to puzzle over a sour leathery hunch. This is Patchouli.
In the late morning tonka-like all inhibitions fall: There's a proper load from the woodruff direction! Quite sweet, comparable perhaps with this poison-green woodruff syrup, which in the present case was infused with a little too little mineral water. Nevertheless, this is well advised and the tingly basic mood helps, even if it may be exclusively associative in the head, against a feeling of too much sweetness.
In the early afternoon I unfortunately land again at the Heretic wood. But only under the surface, on top of it is our fortunately meanwhile largely relieved, moreover pleasantly unsweet vanilla strengthened. In the association with a swab of coumarin it offers a basically pleasant conclusion, which accompanies me still a few hours.
And now for the espresso antics: In his epochal four-volume "The Great Singers" Jürgen Kesting complains that the baritone Bernd Weikl sometimes spoils his fine vocal means with supposedly expressive finesses, the so-called "Espressivo-Mätzchen". He would be best if he said "just - sing."
I have a similar situation with Mr Little, in the sense of a comprehensive Heretic conclusion. I always find it the best when (as in the present case) it leaves the pseudo-avant-garde, olfactory espressivo antics behind and instead simply - smells.
I thank KingLui for the rehearsal.
Within seconds, of course, an almost resinous-bitter aura is added - which at the same time appears diffusely floral. Coumarin prickles gives you a certain pizzazz. I am very impressed, not least because the combination of limonadic sparkling freshness and the astringency from afar reminds me of one of my favourite summerlings: 'Italian Citrus' by D.S. & Durga. Not a twin at all, just by that sort of thing. The freshness is not energizingly cheerful or fluttering, but has dignity.
The fragrance quickly darkens further. After barely an hour, nutty earthy vetiver is clear and in the course of the morning ensures a continuation of the distinctive contrasting, now of dark earthy notes and said limonadesque freshness. I smell over a slightly plastic vanilla from the third hour onwards and prefer to puzzle over a sour leathery hunch. This is Patchouli.
In the late morning tonka-like all inhibitions fall: There's a proper load from the woodruff direction! Quite sweet, comparable perhaps with this poison-green woodruff syrup, which in the present case was infused with a little too little mineral water. Nevertheless, this is well advised and the tingly basic mood helps, even if it may be exclusively associative in the head, against a feeling of too much sweetness.
In the early afternoon I unfortunately land again at the Heretic wood. But only under the surface, on top of it is our fortunately meanwhile largely relieved, moreover pleasantly unsweet vanilla strengthened. In the association with a swab of coumarin it offers a basically pleasant conclusion, which accompanies me still a few hours.
And now for the espresso antics: In his epochal four-volume "The Great Singers" Jürgen Kesting complains that the baritone Bernd Weikl sometimes spoils his fine vocal means with supposedly expressive finesses, the so-called "Espressivo-Mätzchen". He would be best if he said "just - sing."
I have a similar situation with Mr Little, in the sense of a comprehensive Heretic conclusion. I always find it the best when (as in the present case) it leaves the pseudo-avant-garde, olfactory espressivo antics behind and instead simply - smells.
I thank KingLui for the rehearsal.
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