Word: bongos
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1960-1969
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...ocean's bottom, forlornly waiting for death or a chance to escape. Some recruits slumped at card tables, others yawned and cradled their heads in their arms. Finally, the more imaginative raised spirits by enacting skits of recruit life or by beating out the thumping rhythms of bongo numbers on drums fashioned from their survival cracker tins...
...away from the gaze of press and public. One evening last week he slipped away from the White House for a three-hour dinner cruise down the Potomac on the presidential yacht PatrickJ .; the identity of his companions was kept secret. He watched two movies, Tiger Bay and Expresso Bongo, in the White House projection room. And still another night he ordered up a batch of mystery novels for his bedtime reading (the President also recently reread Alfred Duff Cooper's Talleyrand, and declared to friends: "It's a great book"). Finally, at week...
...promises a return to pre-eminence this year under a new artistic director, Lord Harewood, 38, music-critic cousin of Queen Elizabeth. With John Osborne's Luther (see above), he will present the Bristol Old Vic's version of Lawrence Durrell's Sappho and Wolf (Expresso Bongo) Mankowitz' adaptation of Friedrich Duerrenmatt's Frank V, described as the "musical history of a private bank." Then there is also the famed Edinburgh "Fringe"-small, independent productions that sprout by the dozen (about 60 last year), have no official connection with the festival, and often include some...
Then a second band broke into a number that goes, "Indonesia is free-cha cha cha." Sukarno grabbed Nina Khrushchev for a partner. Nikita leaped up himself, waggled through a few steps, took a bongo drum and thumped it for a while. Then he seized Sukarno's silverheaded marshal's baton and began leading the band. Sukarno said he would expect some new Soviet credits in return...
...good deal of pacing to do, which it does largely out of step not only with itself but with its words and Jeremy Johnston's admirable and elegant music. Part of this, admittedly, can't be their fault, for the music and the offensive patter of what must be bongo drums are all hollowly issuing from a tape somewhere in the ceiling; it would throw anyone off. The only remotely appealing sight during the choral odes is Gustav Solomons' dancing, which is interesting but seems entirely out of place...