Posts Tagged ‘cocco’
Friday, December 25th, 2009 by Victoria Goldenberg
One of Cocco’s greatest strengths is her use of extremes. She understands that a powerful moment becomes all the more intense when paired with its opposite. Her recent albums are more consistent in mood, but 1998’s surreal-sounding Kumuiuta had her most deft contrast.
The a capella lullaby “Chiisana Ame no Hi no Kuwamui” makes the sinister riffs of follow-up “Nureta Yurikago” even more cathartic. The explosive, terror-filled choruses of “Ratai” heighten the uneasiness of its ambiguous ending. “Unai” provides a cool-down after the grand “Raining.” The creak-filled “Rose letter,” about a bitter confrontation with a traitor, gives way to a children’s song about eating a farm pig before it’s sold off. Cocco snorts like a pig before the band kicks in, and she sings the lyrics in an adorable yet creepy deadpan.
That isn’t to say Kumuiuta is all an exercise in yin and yang. Some of its best moments are the moderate ones. “Tsuyoku Hakanai Monotachi” is a rocker reliant on an undulating rhythm instead of heavy riffs. The string instruments in “Utakata” set a tranquil mood but never overtake it.
Kumuiuta may not rock out as much as the albums bookending it, but it still packs quite the punch. The dreamy soundscapes don’t last long before they abruptly turn into nightmares.
Tags: album review, cd review, chiisana ame no hi no kuwamui, cocco, kumuiuta, my dear pig, nureta yurikago, raining, ratai, reviews, rose letter, tsuyoku hakanai monotachi, unai, utakata, vault review, victoria goldenberg
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Thursday, December 24th, 2009 by Victoria Goldenberg
When Cocco left the music industry in 2001 (she officially returned in 2006), she released a best-of that went beyond the obligatory singles collection. The two-disc collection includes 11 singles, seven B-sides, three album tracks and five exclusive songs; the first press edition had a third CD with a track from Cocco’s sought-after indies single and “Hiyoko Buta no Theme Part 2,” her contribution to the children’s show Minna no Uta. The collection’s an excellent value for fans collecting Cocco’s songs and a thorough primer for new listeners.
Best + Ura Best + Mihappyo Kyokushuu covers a broad range of Cocco’s territory, though none of her ironic children’s songs made the cut. You get the heavy rock of “Mizu Kagami”; the ethereal beauty of “Jukai no Ito”; the minimalism of “Kutsushita no Himitsu” and “Ame Furashi”; the anthemic “Sing a Song~No Music, No Life~”; and many of the introspective rockers most definitive of Cocco’s style, such as “Raining” and “Hane~lay down my arms~.”
Best is testament to the strength of Cocco’s catalogue on the whole. Her B-sides and previously unreleased tracks hold their own against her singles and album tracks; a new listener might have trouble distinguishing which is which. A B-side track, “Way Out,” launches the compilation strikingly. It begins with 13 seconds of feedback before Cocco summons her band with a six-second scream. Her singing grows increasingly aggressive, reaching a wordless cry at the end of the chorus. It’s one of the hardest and most powerful songs Cocco’s ever written.
“Sweet Berry Kiss” and “Mokumaou” demonstrate Cocco’s preternatural talent for combining gorgeous rock melodies and honest, poetic lyrics to create moving songs. Meanwhile, “Ame Furashi” reveals her tender side. The cheery atmosphere of “Shiawase no Komichi” belies the violent fate of its protagonists. Closer “Ibara” has the troubled singer declare she would rather continue living with pain than be free of it. “I want to fall down/I don’t need to fly/I’m sure I can run/this body/should be able to live/even barefoot,” she sings. The reverb makes Cocco’s sound voice distant, possibly alluding to her departure from the music scene.
As with any compilation, individual fans will gripe about favorite songs that didn’t make it. Cocco’s cover of “Rainbow” by Dr. StrangeLove (an excellent duo that composed her production team and the backbone of her band at the time) is far more interesting than the relatively bland “Again.” The a cappella tune “Mafuyu no Suika” shows off how Cocco’s vocal color can set an ominous mood all by itself. But these omissions don’t change the fact that Best is a strong collection on its own.
But, by nature of being a compilation, it lacks the punch that Cocco’s focused original albums deliver. It’s a more intellectual listen, a study of the remarkable consistency and strength of an unusual artist at her peak. If you like what you hear on this best-of, do check out Cocco’s first four original albums to experience how much better these songs sound within context. Best was the first Cocco album I bought, but it was an original ones–Sangrose–that made her my favorite artist. That album’s cohesion and vision left such an impression on me that I had to get the three preceding it ASAP.
But for the uninitiated, Best is still a good way to find out what Cocco was about during the time she made her hardest, most impressive music. What was meant to close a career now closes a musical chapter in Cocco’s life.
Translation of Ibara’s lyrics by Brian Stewart
Tags: again, alanis morissette, album review, ame furashi, b-sides, best+ura best+mihappyou kyokushuu, centigrade-j, cocco, dr. strangelove, hane~lay down my arms~, haresugita sora, hoshi no umareru hi, ibara, jukai no ito, kutsushita no himitsu, mafuyu no suika, minna no uta, mizu kagami, mokumaou, no life~, rainbow, raining, review, reviews, sangrose, shiawase no komichi, sing a song~no music, no life~, sweet berry kiss, tsuyoku hakanai monotachi, vault review, victoria goldenberg, way out
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Thursday, December 24th, 2009 by Victoria Goldenberg
Cocco’s major debut single from 1997, “Count Down,” is a heavy monster of a song that threatens a man who spurned the singer-songwriter. An unsettling, ticking drumbeat gives way to grungy guitar explosions as Cocco details the ways she will beat up the traitor, leaving him licking her toes and begging for forgiveness. The song ends with her counting down before she shoots the man, but we never get to find out his fate.
This would’ve been a bold song to release in the United States, where Alanis Morissette’s “You Oughta Know” was controversial and punk pianist Amanda Palmer’s “Leeds United” video was nearly censored because Roadrunner Records thought the artist didn’t look sexy enough. That the album containing it, Bougainvillea, was a top 40 hit and the artist herself would eventually have a number one record in the notoriously conservative Japan are even more remarkable.
Not to make Cocco sound like a shock value artist merely trying to push the envelope. Rather, she’s someone who writes music to exorcise her emotions. Listen to her music or read her lyrics and you’ll recognize those demons deep inside yourself, hidden under layers of social norms and self-censorship. Speedstar Records deserves credit for signing Cocco and letting her release this music and wear plain dresses and no makeup.
Cocco’s lightened up over the years, but her 1997 debut album Bougainvillea is still a watershed. It’s her darkest, most lyrically direct recording, and it established Cocco as an artist who could wield a variety of genres and still put together a cohesive album. “Kubi” opens with a rising, dissonant violin solo before Cocco cuts in, her voice distorted as she wails about her conflicting emotions over the termination of a long relationship. “Rain man” is a pained lullaby sung in competent English, while “Nemureru Mori no Oujisama~Haru*Natsu*Aki*Fuyu~” is a crushing rocker that leaves even the singer herself panicked and gasping for breath by the end. “Gajumaru no Ki” has serious lyrics about feeling out of control and aimless as an adult, but it’s played as a major key children’s song. “Somebody, stop me/put me down/and bind me to that tree/somebody, please stop me/tie me to that tree so tight/when the morning comes/Am I still gonna be alive?” Cocco sings over the sound of a marimba and recorder.
Bougainvillea also tackles a variety of lyrical subjects fantastically. “Isho,” a sparse song in which Cocco asks her lover to kill her if she ever becomes brain dead, is so haunting it reportedly brought X Japan guitarist Hide to tears. On the other end of the spectrum, the upbeat “Sing A Song~No Music, No Life~” builds off “No Smoking” signs into an anthem for creative expression, complete with cute doodles to accompany the lyrics. (If the subtitle sounds familiar, Tower Records adopted it as the permanent slogan for its Japan stores and used it occasionally in the U.S.)
Though emotional music can fall flat with the wrong singer, Cocco has the perfect expressive voice for her work. Her tone quality is crisp and pure, and her range is capable of everything from a ghostly whisper to freakout scream. But Cocco understands efficiency, and she can convey a large scope of feelings through subtle changes in color or by adding a slight spit or fragile quiver. Even at her most tender moments, Cocco always has a detectable chilliness to her singing, adding to the depth of her songs. But most important, she sounds authentic. You could spend hours dissecting the inflections in her singing, and yet none of them comes off calculated.
I don’t agree with the cliché “Music is a universal language” because some layers get lost when you don’t understand the lyrics. (And cultural context, and the rhetorical devices within the songs, and so on.) Most of Cocco’s CDs, Bougainvillea included, come with decent English translations, but I’m sure the listening experience is far more intense for someone who knows what the songs are about without having to grab the lyric booklet. But even with this handicap, Bougainvillea is still a profound experience. The emotion in Cocco’s singing, the crunchy guitars, and the turbulent drums are instantly recognizable and relatable. Cocco’s music isn’t just about herself, it’s about the humanity inside all of us.
English lyrics taken from the Bougainvillea lyric booklet. Translation by Kazuomi Kajihara and Toni Pedecine.
Tags: alanis morissette, album review, amanda palmer, bougainvillea, cd review, cocco, count down, gajumaru no ki, hide, isho, j-rock, kazuomi kajihara, kubi, marimba, nemureru mori no oujisama~haru*natsu*aki*fuyu~, rain man, recorder, review, roadrunner records, sing a song~no music, no life~, speedstar records, toni pedecine, tower records, vault review, victoria goldenberg, x, x japan, you oughta know
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Thursday, December 24th, 2009 by Victoria Goldenberg
It’s getting harder to call Cocco just a musician. Though she’s been a jack-of-all-trades (and a master of them, too) for years, she increasingly splits her time between her writing, art and environmental activism. On top of that, she’s raising a child and overcoming ongoing mental illness. So it’s understandable that the Okinawan artist has been slow on the music. Though she contributed to other people’s music—she sang for Kiyoshi Takakuwa’s solo project, Curly Giraffe, and wrote a song for the pop idol alan at her request—Cocco didn’t release something of her own until nearly two years after Dugong no Mieru Oka. Cocco-san no Daidokoro, a music accompaniment to the artist’s same-titled book, was initially released as a digital EP in August and then as a disc in September. It has just four songs.
But scarcity suits Cocco. The long wait (by the Japanese music industry’s fast-paced standards) helps listeners savor the beauty in her compositions. Cocco-san no Daidokoro CD is one of the best works in the mellow and optimistic approach the singer has taken since her 2005 comeback. Each track is themed around a season and Cocco’s personal associations with them.
Spring song “Kinuzure” is the kind of soaring, powerful ballad Cocco excels at, in the vein of “Ryuuseigun” and “San” without sounding like a repeat. “The end of Summer” is a peaceful, contemplative reflection on a summer night, with a performance centered mostly on Cocco’s acoustic guitar and soft singing in English. “Bye Bye Pumpkin Pie,” a song written and fleshed out over the Kira Kira tour, takes on autumn duties here. Similarly to the rendition on the tour DVD, it has a gorgeous melody and playful-sounding arrangement that incorporates a tin whistle, glockenspiel and euphonium. Cocco delivers an excellent vocal performance, tender in the soft moments and heart-wrenchingly passionate when she belts in the chorus and ad-libbed sections. Crisp guitar work makes winter tune “Ai ni Tsuite” the most rock song on the mini album. The ethereal backing vocals recall “Shinayaka Ude no Inori,” but the rapidly sung bridge is a first for Cocco.
The production has the airy sound Cocco has opted for since parting ways with longtime producer and bassist Takamune Negishi in 2006. Though Cocco penned a rocking song for alan, she’s clearly sticking with soft music for her own career. She seems, overall, less tormented than she did in the past, and her performances of turbulent songs like “Way Out” and “Kemono Michi” on the Kira Kira DVD feel less emotionally intense than older ones. Cocco’s always written music true to herself, so her new, easygoing style represents her personality these days. It’s understandable she wants lighter production to match her happier sound, but it’s still easy to miss how Negishi’s gritty production and bass used to contrast Cocco’s skyward melodies.
More troubling is that Cocco’s singing shows strain on the high notes. I hope it’s merely a temporary side effect from her recent struggles and not something permanent. But perhaps her years of smoking have finally caught up with her. Cocco has maintained one of the most pure and emotive voices in the industry, and it’s especially vital since her new music has narrower appeal than the hard rock that made her famous.
Cocco’s official site currently displays two photos of Cocco wishing you a merry Christmas and holding a sign that says she’s recording. It’s been more than two years since Cocco’s most recent album, so it’s good to know the wait won’t be much longer.
Tags: ai ni tsuite, alan, album review, bye bye pumpkin pie, cd review, christmas, cocco, cocco-san no daidokoro, cocco-san no daidokoro cd, curly giraffe, dugong no mieru oka, euphonium, glockenspiel, j-pop, j-rock, kemono michi, kinuzure, kira kira, kiyoshi takekuwa, mini album review, Okinawa, review, ryuuseigun, san, shinayaka ude no inori, takakuwa kiyoshi, takamune negishi, the end of summer, throat, tin whistle, victoria goldenberg, way out
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Sunday, November 22nd, 2009 by Victoria Goldenberg
Dear Cocco,
Last night I watched my copy of Daijoubu de aru you ni-Cocco Owaranai Tabi-, acclaimed director Hirokazu Koreeda’s documentary about your life during 2008’s Kira Kira tour, for the first time. Yes, I preordered the special edition and watched it despite barely understanding any of the Japanese. (Three years of Japanese classes were wasted on this slacker.) I also watched it with a migraine because seeing this movie was too important to wait for painkillers to kick in. No, I do not regret it.
Language-impaired as I was, I focused on the mood and visuals and, of course, your uniqueness. While 2003’s news documentary Heaven’s hell was faster-paced and more extroverted because of its focus on your fireball efforts to set up a concert by yourself and get people to pick up litter on the beautiful Okinawan beaches so vital to your creativity, Daijoubu de aru you ni has a quiet, slow and contemplative feel that works incredibly well. The opening close-up of you eating while gazing out the car window drew me in with its focus on Cocco as wide-eyed observer of the world in even the mundane moments. Being jaded as I am at 22, it warmed my heart to see you still so fascinated by everything around you: taking in the stunning nature of Okinawa, stopping to listen to a street performer play “Ue wo muite arukou” and responding to the kids who shouted out to you as you walked by. Following you from the camera’s lens, I understood both Koreeda’s fascination for you and the way you see your surroundings—major credit to Koreeda for pulling that off.
Daijoubu de aru you ni is also more filmic than Heaven’s hell, featuring artful scenes like the juxtaposed shots of you and your bandmates’ hands and a climactic ending in which you hacked off half your hair and added it to a bonfire of fan letters on the beach. (I assume this was some sort of ritual or tribute. I wish this movie had subtitles like Heaven’s hell did!)
I was shocked to see your son featured prominently in the movie, since you’d kept him secret for eight years and limited his public appearance to a tiny picture and vocal part in Kira Kira. I had assumed you were protecting him from tabloids that were fascinated by you, albeit for the wrong reasons. But Koreeda did an excellent job highlighting your sweet relationship with your son. When the two of you danced at dinner, it was one of the most touching and funny moments of the entire 110-minute video. P.S.—your son played the drums superbly, and if he was that musically skilled at eight years old, I expect great things of him in the future.
But more than anything else, you were the most striking part of the film. Even nearly eight years into my Cocco fandom, I’m still awed by how different you are from other human beings. While I imagine you’re more normal when you’re say, trying to persuade your son to clean his room, you’re so unlike the society-molded rest of us in every public appearance. I was charmed every time you cried while talking or danced spontaneously, and even when you sat adorably with a recorder resting at your face. Finding out you loved Princess Mononoke and desperately hoped for a happy ending the first time you watched it made me happy because I felt the same way. It was great to see “Bye Bye Pumpkin Pie” develop; only knowing the sweet version from the Kira Kira tour DVD and Cocco-san no Daidokoro CD, I was intrigued to see it started as a combination of your singing and the audience’s handclaps (the band didn’t join in, presumably, because it was a song you’d just written) and even took on a rockin’ form that never made it to the final cut.
But I was most moved when you collected people’s written memories at the Omoigoto exhibit and later tied those memories onto a barbed wire barrier set up on Okinawa by the U.S. military. It was a move both gutsy and incredibly pure-hearted. I’d say you’re supernatural, but perhaps you’re simply more human than most. I understand why Koreeda wanted to make a film about you.
Though I’m not a filmmaker, I am a writer. I would love the chance to see you live. Your work has had a tremendous effect from me in the distance, so I can only imagine how much I’d be changed if I experienced your personality in-person. It’s been over a decade since your last U.S. live. Care to visit us again?
Sincerely, your very inspired fan,
Victoria
Tags: bye bye pumpkin pie, cocco, cocco owaranai tabi, cocco the endless journey, cocco-san no daidokoro, daijoubu de aru you ni, dvd, DVD review, heaven's hell, hirokazu koreeda, kira kira, koreeda hirokazu, movie, new releases, Okinawa, Okinawan pop, omoigoto, victoria goldenberg
Posted in indie, pop, review, rock | 1 Comment »
Tuesday, July 7th, 2009 by Victoria Goldenberg
Nearly two years after her last single, authentic and eccentric music talent Cocco will release her first digital EP. The currently unnamed collection is a conceptual one consisting of four songs connected to the seasons. It will go on sale August 15, the same day Cocco releases her new book, Cocco-san no daidokoro, and performs a mini-live at the Shibuya Tower Records.
The tracks are:
(Spring) Kinuzure
(Summer) the end of Summer
(Autumn) Bye Bye Pumpkin Pie [performed in the Cocco KiraKira Live Tour DVD]
(Winter) Ai ni Tsuite
A number of digital stores will sell the EP. If you live overseas and want to buy it, your best bet is to buy a Japanese iTunes card. ITunes also carries some other Cocco works not available physically, like the “Dugong no Mieru Oka” music video and audio from the Live Speedstar Express DVD.
Cocco’s also collaborated on three tracks for Curly Giraffe’s self-cover album, Thank You For Being a Friend, on sale October 21. Curly Giraffe is a solo project by the former Great 3 bassist, Takakuwa Kiyoshi. A limited edition preview EP came out in May, but the album will include all its songs and more.
Tracks:
1. Water On featuring Arai Akino
2. My Dear Friend featuring Cocco
3. Forbidden Fruits featuring Kimura Kaela
4. Run Run Run featuring Bonnie Pink
5. Chaos featuring Chara
6. Mood featuring LOVE PSYCHEDELICO
7. Fountain Of Youth featuring Ando Yuko
8. You Just Swept Me Off My Feet featuring Hiraoka Keiko
9. Stand featuring Cocco
10. Spilt Milk featuring Bonnie Pink
11. Gentle Tree featuring Arai Akino
12. On Cloud Nine featuring Chara
13. Tricky Adult featuring Cocco
On July 10, C-pop and J-pop singer alan will release a Chinese album including the Mandarin version of “Gunjou no Tani,” the song Cocco wrote for her. The album is called Xin De Dong Fang and “Gunjou no Tani” is retitled “Ai Kan De Jian.”
Last winter, Cocco was the subject of Daijoubu de aru you ni – Cocco The endless journey - , a documentary by acclaimed director Koreeda Hirokazu (Nobody Knows).
Cocco official site:
http://www.cocco.co.jp
Curly Giraffe:
http://www.myspace.com/curlygiraffe
alan:
http://alan-web.jp/index.html
Tags: ai kan de jian, ai ni tsuite, alan, albums, ando yuko, arai akino, bonnie pink, bye bye pumpkin pie, CD, chara, chinese, cocco, cocco the endless journey, cocco-san no daidokoro, concert, curly giraffe, daijoubu de aru you ni, dare mo shiranai, digital ep, downloading, dugong no mieru oka, girl rock, great 3, gunjou no tani, hiraoka keiko, itunes, j-pop, j-rock, kimura kaela, kinuzure, kirakira love tour, koreeda hirokazu, love psychedelico, new ep, new releases, news, nobody knows, shibuya, speedstar live express, takakuwa kiyoshi, thank you for being a friend, the end of summer, tower records, xin de dong fang
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Thursday, July 2nd, 2009 by Victoria Goldenberg
Articles about The Shins often mention the scene in Garden State in which Natalie Portman hands her headphones to actor-director Zach Braff and says, “Listen to this; it will change your life.”
In some alternate universe where Mr. Braff is a huge J-rock fan, he could have written the scene about Cocco, and music writers would cite it to describe the singer’s appeal.
So I implore you, in my best Natalie Portman impression (“All the kids looking up to me can…”), listen to Cocco’s fourth album, Sangrose: Its emotional power will change your life.
Take “Why do I love you,’” an English-language song about the complicated feelings associated with domestic abuse. In two brief verses, one delivered over silence, Cocco describes her lover’s violence and her confusing loyalty to him. “Take away the blood from my head ‘cause I don’t know how can I love you more,” she pleads. But Cocco forgoes wordy narrative lyrics and gets into the intensity of the emotion with cries of “Don’t kill me.” Each heart-wrenching repetition makes the listener feel Cocco’s terror more and more. A bridge with nauseous-sounding moans conveys a feeling of dizzy distress, one which Cocco threatens she may need to end in murder.
The song was an epiphany the first time I listened to it as a teenager craving artistic authenticity. It demonstrates music’s potential not just to portray emotion but to become it. Radio emo’s petty self-pitying tendencies may have made people hesitant toward emotional music, but “Why do I love you” restores dignity to it. At the very least, it will make you a bigger Cocco fan.
Sangrose was released in 2001 and billed as Cocco’s last studio album before she retired from music for mysterious reasons. In the end, Cocco just went on a four-year hiatus from commercial music; people speculate she took the time off to give birth and raise the son she kept secret until 2007. Sangrose is mostly softer and slower than the albums that preceded it, which made it a contemplative closing to Cocco’s career at the time. In hindsight, it also fits her overall her creative path, bridging the bitter, hard music of her early years with the gentle, folksy approach of her post-hiatus sound. Because of its gradual pace, Sangrose is an acquired taste. Cocco’s first three albums deliver more instantly gratifying heavy tracks, and are thus safer bets for introductory albums.
Yet if you give it the time, Sangrose reveals its strengths as a whole. Cocco has a remarkable instinct for restraint in composing her albums, containing the visceral moments in short bursts between pretty ballads, dreamy tracks and ironic children’s songs. She reached her apex with Sangrose. It was actually the first original Cocco album I bought, and at first, I was disappointed there weren’t more freakout songs like “Why do I love you” and “Wagamama na te.” As I listened more, I realized having more heavy tracks would dilute their specialness and reduce the emotional complexity of Cocco’s catalogue. Besides, Sangrose has a distinct flow, and by the time you reach Cocco’s passionate shout-singing at the end of the expansive “Coral Reef,” you feel like you’ve completed a journey.
And if some indie rock can change your life, Cocco certainly can, too.
Tags: album review, albums, cocco, garden state, j-rock, japanese music, lyrics, natalie portman, reviews, sangrose, vault, vault review, victoria goldenberg, zach braff
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Sunday, March 29th, 2009 by Victoria Goldenberg
This release ought to be billed as Cocco featuring alan.
For penning Chinese pop singer alan’s eighth Japanese single, Gunjou no Tani, Okinawan alt-pop queen Cocco gets almost as much billing as the artist herself—she’s mentioned on the front side of the CD spine, and her message appears alongside alan’s on the back cover.
But more important, the biggest reason to listen to “Gunjou no Tani” is that it’s is one of the best Cocco songs of the past three years. The nearly a cappella lullaby opening bursts into a soaring, radiant melody demonstrating her best songwriting without sounding like music she’s released before. And while many of Cocco’s post-comeback songs have sounded uncharacteristically hollow, “Gunjou no Tani” is heartfelt, rich with bravery and passion.
Alan’s interpretation of the song does it justice. Though she’s equipped with a typical idol tone quality—nasal and thin—alan sings well and emotionally, and stylizes her voice with gorgeous mountain wails in the choruses.
(Still, it’s tempting to imagine how much better “Gunjou no Tani” would have sounded with Cocco’s heart-wrenching pure tone and emotional range. May we have a self-cover, please?)
The arrangers bridge the gaps between Cocco’s rock sensibilities, and alan’s idol pop and Chinese background. Tasuku, who’s worked with Hamasaki Ayumi but also arranged Cocco’s 2003 song “Garnet,” filters the Okinawan musician’s ethereal rock through a shiny pop aesthetic. Alan plays the ehru on a coupling acoustic version (featuring re-performed vocals!) to highlight her Chinese background.
As the best work to come from Cocco in years and the best alan has sung yet, Gunjou no Tani makes you look forward to the women’s next individual projects. When Cocco releases new music, will it be this good? And do alan’s talent and musical taste mean she’s going to prove worthy of more than the generic Avex pop she’s been given so far?
Tags: alan, cocco, j-pop, new releases, reviews, single review, singles, victoria goldenberg
Posted in pop | 4 Comments »
