Summer is the sixth album of pianist George Winston and his fifth solo piano album, released in 1991. It was reissued on Dancing Cat Records in 2008.
The list of friends for the popular Barbie line of dolls that began in 1959. Since character continuity has not been consistent over time, there is no real "canon" lineup. At different times, different groups of dolls were offered, and the naming and apparent age relationships of the characters has varied considerably.
Summer is an English feminine given name of recent coinage derived from the word for the season of summer, the warmest season of the year and a time people generally associate with carefree and fun activities. It's been in common use as a name since at least 1970 in English-speaking countries. Summer, along with other seasonal and nature names, came into fashion as part of the 1960s and 70s counterculture.
The name was the 30th most common name given to girls born in England and Wales in 2011, was the 36th most popular name given to girls born in Scotland in 2011 and the 82nd most popular name for girls born in Northern Ireland in 2011. It was among the 10 most popular names given to baby girls born in 2008 in the Isle of Man. It also ranked as the 40th most popular name for baby girls born in New South Wales, Australia in 2011 and the 51st most popular name for girls born in British Columbia, Canada in 2011. It was the 173rd most popular name for girls born in the United States in 2011. It has ranked among the top 300 names for girls in the United States since 1970 and was the 648th most common name for girls and women in the United States in the 1990 census.
Banda is a surname. Notable people with the surname include:
In opera, a banda (Italian for band) refers to a musical ensemble (normally of wind instruments) which is used in addition to the main orchestra and plays the music which is actually heard by the characters in the opera. A banda sul palco (band on the stage) was prominently used in Rossini's Neapolitan operas. Verdi used the term banda to refer to a banda sul palco, as in the score for Rigoletto. He used the term banda interna (internal band), to refer to a band which is still separate from the orchestra but heard from the off-stage wings. The early scores of La traviata use a banda interna.
Diegetic depictions of music making are present in the earliest operatic depictions of Orpheus accompanying himself but larger onstage ensembles seem to have first appeared in Don Giovanni, most spectacularly in the polymetric Act I ball where the wind Harmonie is joined by two violin-and-bass bands to simultaneously accompany minuet, contradance and waltz. Giovanni Paisiello's opera Pirro, which opened weeks later in December 1787, marks the first use of the term banda in the sense of a wind band. While Almaviva's serenade is accompanied from the pit in both Paisiello's (1782) and Rossini's (1816) Il barbiere di Siviglia, by 1818 Rossini's opera Ricciardo e Zoraide the banda was established as an independent institution in Italian opera houses.
How many times?
Have I traversed these tired streets
Traced the faded yellow lines
With enough revolutions per minute to last a lifetime
Whispered cries of fragmented asphalt
Groaning with contempt
Longing for a life, a life less habitual
We spend our days, tracing beaten paths
Clutching at our memories, most will never last
With downcast eyes, bathed in stoic light
We may never see the road ahead
(We haven't got the sight)
So accelerate the daily grind and watch the hours fly
Collared shirts once crisp and clean
Now sag with all the weight, the weight of all this grey
A slave or sorts, bound in great green chains
Choker held tight by a master called tomorrow
But I can't understand wasting the best years
Just to enjoy the ones so close to the end
We spend our days, tracing beaten paths
Clutching at our memories, most will never last
With downcast eyes, bathed in stoic light
We may never see the road ahead
So open up your dreary eyes
And gouge them out with crimson regret
So many chances you have missed
So much time has slipped right through your fingers....
We spend our days, tracing beaten paths
Clutching at our memories, most will never last
With downcast eyes, bathed in stoic light
We may never see the road ahead