从梵高看人生

一首旧曲翻唱《vincent》已经让我反复听了许多遍。

那么地慵懒，那么地缠绵。

如果说norah jones 是西方乐坛最好的蓝调灵魂唱将，那王若琳就是华人乐坛蓝调灵魂的翘楚。

撇开技巧与才艺不说，歌唱感情运用上，她其实已经胜过norah jones 了

王若琳属于天赋型的歌手吧，

至少我是那么认为。

好曲就要有一个意境很好的歌词衬托， 

就像吃菜埔蛋一定要有粥， 而吃粥一定要有咸蛋一样。

《Vincent》的词打入我的心坎，不偏不倚。

听过这首歌的人，可能还不知道， Vincent 指的其实就是 Vincent Van Gogh， 

简单来说就是那个用一种叫做艺术的东西来骗最多钱的画家，梵高。（暗喻艺术非梵，伎俩偏高，指骗钱方面~）

梵高三十六岁就死了，

自杀。

毫无疑问当时他遇到了困境，不同的是他并没有适应，也没有认命，

而选择草率了结自己的生命。

曾几何时我说过观念笼罩了这个世界，

和观念不同的人聊天不愧为是天下间最困难的事情。

咄咄逼人也不是，委曲求全的聆听也显得太过窝囊，

平凡的我，已经难以招架了，

更何况是身为思想表达主义者的梵高。

可能他不能明白中庸之道吧，在友情龟裂与犹豫症的围剿之下， 他放弃了。

离开了一个他认为叫固执的世界。

这和屈先生很像吧。

愚蠢，但值得歌颂。

所以Don Mclean写下《vincent》时表达了对梵高感到无限的惋惜，却又带点一丝丝的怜悯。

其中的 This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you 和 perhaps they will never 就已经一语道破。

梵高的著作《Starry Night》

梵高的英年早逝，绝对和他骗太多钱，而罪孽深重无关。

反而很讽刺的是，他的作品在他死后才开始有人注意，良久之后才真正被人定义为无价之宝。

让我不禁怀疑艺术，是不是一定要等到泉源消逝后，才能换来光荣？

虽然对我来说，无价的《starry night》 根本就是一个很普通的涂鸦。

真搞不懂玩艺术的大人们。

看到这边，孝良应该会觉得自己叫Vincent会有点不配吧。

对，你根本就侮辱了Vincent那一挂的人！

呕出心，沥出血，

只是希望大家明白，我不止介绍了王若琳的天籁和《Vincent》这首无从挑剔的好歌。

我更介绍了一种叫做“观念”和“珍惜”的词汇。

最后送上王若琳的《Vincent》和其歌词，希望大家多捧场，谢谢。

DOTA anyone XD ?

Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul
Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land

Now I understand what you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps, they'll listen now

Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue
Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand

Now I understand what you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps, they'll listen now
For they could not love you
And still your love was true
And when no hope was left inside on that starry, starry night
You took your life as lovers often do
But I could have told you, Vincent
This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you

Starry, starry night
Portraits hung in empty hall
Frameless heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget
Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged man in ragged clothes
The silver thorn of bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow

Now I think I know what you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
Then how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they're not listening still
Perhaps, they never will