изучение английского языка
Английский в контексте
Тесты по аудированию на английском языке
Тесты по чтению на английском языке
Словарный запас английского языка
CAE чтение тест №2
You are going to read three extracts which are all concerned in some way with music. For questions 1-6, choose the answer (А, В, С or D) which you think fits best according to the text.
It's a string thing
You only have to think of the expression 'tugging at the heart strings' to be reminded of the way we connect emotionally with the sound of the violin. But for years, the strings have been marginalized in the world of pop - sidelined to the slushy world of ballads, lazily used to suggest drama or sophistication. To all intents and purposes, strings had become the sonic equivalent of the highlighter pen. But suddenly things have changed.
Artists like Joanna Newsom and Sufjan Stevens made a breakthrough with a broader kind of orchestral pop a few years ago, playing sellout shows at classical venues, and the trend continues.
So what has brought on our fancy for strings? Pop's relentless, synthesized technical evolution has made more people start longing for a more organic sound. And in a way, the sound of violins is revolutionary; punk was once synonymous with electric guitars and shouting, but since that's now the norm, it's no longer shocking. It's far more innovative to use a classical instrument in a way it's never been played before.
Will our love of strings endure? Well, given the average age of a pop musician is 25, and the average age of a concert violin is 150 years old, maybe it's not violins that are the craze within pop - but pop that is the craze in the constantly evolving story of the violin.
In the first paragraph, the writer is
A explaining why the violin is generally unsuited to pop music.
В describing how violins have been used until recently in pop music.
С praising the use of the violin to give emotional power to pop music.
D defending the way violins were used in traditional types of pop music.
According to the writer, the current interest in violins in pop music
A is just a phase that will soon pass.
В is related to changes in classical music.
C is part of a search for something new in pop music.
D is a result of technological improvements to the instrument.
EXTRACT The environmentally friendly CD
Eric Prydz's single 'Proper Education' was the first music CD to be totally carbon neutral, from the production process through to point of sale. The charity Global Cool calculated that a total of 58.4 tons of carbon dioxide needed to be offset for the 40,000 CDs to be carbon neutral. To arrive at this figure they worked out, with the help of the recording company, how much of the gas was produced by the cameras, staff, travel costs, editing time, shipping and sale of the CDs. In the end, over half of it was produced during distribution rather than production. The emissions created through the entire process were offset through the Те Apiti wind farm project in New Zealand. The sites' turbines generate enough emission-free electricity to power 45,000 homes.
The video itself echoed the CD's environmental credentials. Set on a London housing estate, it shows a gang breaking into a block of flats, but instead of committing crimes, they switch appliances off standby, change light bulbs for more energy-efficient alternatives and place water-saving bricks in toilet cisterns. 'Proper Education' samples Pink Floyd's 'Another Brick in the Wall' - the first time the band has ever sanctioned such a use of the work. Prydz said: 'Pink Floyd would always use their videos to get a message across and I really wanted to carry on that spirit.'
The word 'they' in line 3 refers to
A a number of CDs.
В a recording company.
C the stages in a process.
D a charitable organisation.
In the second paragraph, we learn that the visual content of the CD
A was devised by another band.
В matched the advice given in the song.
C was part of an official environmental campaign.
D was intended to reinforce the carbon neutral message.
Fiction struggles to compete with the glamour and grungy excess of rock music. It may surpass it in its capacity to probe and provoke, but a novel tends not to be as immediately alluring as an album, and a live reading rarely sets the pulse racing the way a high-octane gig will. Novels about bands and about the music business have rarely proved successful.
Jonathan Lethem's The Fortress of Solitude (2003) demonstrated his flair for writing about music and popular culture. Now, after the complex sprawl of that fine novel, You Don't Love Me Yet looks at a comparatively narrow stretch of the music business, zeroing in on an indie band from Los Angeles which finds itself teetering on the brink of success.
The band doesn't have a name, which in hip LA makes it seem cool and edgy, though it might reasonably be taken as a sign of limited imagination; its members arc still at the stage where they juggle day jobs and the trials of their unstarry personal lives with the demands of crafting and performing songs. The territory defined here is unambiguously hip, and there is a great deal that seems contrived - some of it winsome, some of it irritating. Certainly, there are plenty of deeply embedded jokes about musicians and their foibles. But amid all this drollery, the reader may labour to summon up much sympathy for Lethem's cast of precious, nerdy poseurs.
The reviewer feels that Lethem's first novel
A did not enjoy the level of success that it deserved.
В was too narrowly focussed to interest the general reader.
C was better than most others dealing with this subject matter.
D made the music business seem more complicated than it really is.
What criticism does the reviewer have of Lethem's latest novel?
A It lacks a clear message.
В The characters are unappealing.
C The plot is rather unconvincing.
D It fails in its attempts at humour.
You are going to read an extract from a travel book. Six paragraphs have been removed from the extract. Choose from the paragraphs A-G the one which fits each gap (7-12). There is one extra paragraph which you do not need to use.
The long way home
On the last day, I walked down to the harbour. Having slept late, I had breakfast on my own and, as Charley was still sleeping, went for a wander. I wanted to get to the ocean; I needed to see the Pacific. I stumbled down the hill, through rows and rows of tenements, nodding, smiling and waving at the people I passed, eventually arriving at the waterfront. I turned round and lifted my camera to my eye and took a photograph.
I walked on. The path led to the beach. Although it was the last day of June, it was the first day the sun had shone in Magadan that year. Three weeks earlier, it had snowed. But that day, the air was warm and soft, the sky a cloudless blue. Women wore bikinis and small children were running naked across the sands. Families were eating picnics or cooking on barbecues. I walked past them all, along the entire length of the beach, until I came to the harbour.
All we knew then was that we wanted to get from London to Magadan. With the maps laid out in front of us, Charley and I drew a route, arbitrarily assigning mileage to each day, not knowing anything about the state of the roads. Time and again we were told by experienced travellers that our plans were wildly optimistic and that we didn't know what we were letting ourselves in for. I'd never ridden off-road and Charley had never properly camped. The chances of failure were high, they said.
I thought back to the day a month or so earlier when we had been in Mongolia. It was mid-afternoon and we were riding through a beautiful valley. I pulled over and got off my bike. Charley, ahead of me, stopped, too. He swung his bike around and rode back towards me. Before he even arrived, I could feel it coming off him: why are we stopping? We're not getting petrol, we're not stopping to eat: why are we stopping?
It was where we were going to stop at in the middle of an afternoon so that we could cool our sweaty feet in the water while catching fish that we'd cook that evening on an open fire under a star-speckled sky. I'd seen that spot half an hour earlier. There was no question at all that it was the one. A beautiful expanse of water and nobody for hundreds of miles. And we'd ridden straight past it.
Then we got back on our bikes and moved on. A few weeks later, we arrived at the first big river in Siberia. It was too wide, too fast and too deep to cross on a motorbike. There was a bridge, but it had collapsed.
I understood now that it didn't really matter that we hadn't stopped beside that cool, fast-flowing Mongolian river. The imperfections in our journey were what made it perfect. And maybe we wouldn't be in Magadan now if we'd not had that burning desire to keep going. After all, the river would always be there. Now that I knew what was out there, I could always return.
Yet here we were in Magadan, as far around the globe from home as it was possible to go, and we'd arrived one day ahead of our schedule.
We then guessed our way from west to east, across two continents, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, as far as it was possible to ride a motorbike in a straightish line.
I walked away from Charley. I didn't want to tell him it was because we'd passed the place. The place that had been in my dreams. The place we'd fantasised about months before we'd even set off from London. A place with a river of cool, white water and a field nearby to pitch our tents.
There it was: Magadan, Siberia. The place that had been in my dreams and thoughts for two years, like a mythical city forever beyond my reach. I wanted to capture it, somehow hold on to it, take a part of it with me when Charley and I began the long journey back.
I thought Charley would be itching to get ahead, impatient with the hold-up. But he was in his element. He knew that someone or something would be along to help. The delays were the journey. We'd get across it when we got across it.
I sat down for five minutes, just needing to look at the countryside around us. The countryside that we often didn't have time to take in because we were always so intent on keeping to our schedule.
There, I climbed up on to the quay and sat on a mushroom-shaped bollard. An Alsatian came over and sat next to me. I scratched its head for a while, gazed out at the ocean and thought back to the day when Charley and I had sat in a little workshop in west London, surrounded by motorbikes, with dreams of the open road in our heads.
You are going to read an article about a fashion model. For questions 13-19, choose the answer (А, В, С or D) which you think fits best according to the text.
An interview with the supermodel Erin O'Connor
Erin O'Connor is curled up in a chair in an office at ICM Models, the agency that represents her. You hear a lot about Erin being 'a freak of nature', and she can look so extraordinary on the catwalk - all jutting hips, jagged nose and towering height. But here she is in person - the muse to Jean-Paul Gaultier, to Valentino, to Lagerfeld - a delicate, pretty young woman, not that tall after all, but effortlessly stylish in wide-legged jeans and a stripey top, her cropped hair pulled back, in an orange scarf. At first, when you arrive in the room, you could be forgiven for taking her for an assistant if a second look didn't reveal her prettiness: 'Gosh, aren't you beautiful,' I say, sort of to apologise, and, blow me, if the woman who's launched a thousand shows doesn't blush.
In her eleven years on the catwalk and on magazine covers, Erin has accrued extraordinary personal wealth, but despite having been, amongst others, the face of Chanel, Givenchy and Gucci, she's managed to keep her profile relatively low. Even more admirably, in an industry renowned for its bitchiness ('you have to take it head on,' she confides), she has kept a reputation as 'the nice face of fashion'. She was one of the girls followed in the TV documentary 'This Model Life', and was breathtakingly level-headed and amusing in it.
As a friend to the model Karen Elson, who has admitted to anorexia, as well as in her new role as vice chairman of the British Fashion Council (BFC), Erin has talked cogently about the responsibility the industry has towards both models and the girls who try to emulate them. She is keen to foster a better relationship with the press ('at the moment they want to vilify or victimise us'), she gives talks to each year's new faces and, through the BFC, helps allocate sponsorship to new designers. And - the reason she has agreed to a rare interview - she is appearing in, and helping plan, 'A Night in Fashion', the opening of a music festival in London and a star-studded catwalk show that will benefit two leading charities.
Erin O'Connor grew up in Walsall, the middle of three girls. She was training to be a nursery nurse and 'struggling through her final year at school' when she was spotted at a 'Clothes Show' live event. She has talked a lot about how uncomfortable she was with her body when she was growing up. 'I outgrew my dad when I was 17. I outgrew everyone: aunties, sisters, mother, boyfriends.' Success wasn't immediate, but years of ballet classes meant she was a natural on the catwalk. 'Walking in heels felt like a holiday after pointes.' Her big breakthrough didn't come until 1999 when, on a shoot in Brazil for Harpers & Queen, she chopped off her long hair. 'I found my femininity for the first time, my version of it.' She taps her fingers to her heart, a gesture she makes often. 'Then it all went crazy.'
Jean-Paul Gaultier has said that Erin is 'an interpreter; not just a model'. Erin talks about it as a job. 'It doesn't make you vain, because it's not really about your looks. You get into character, you fulfil a role. You're not just a woman wearing a beautiful outfit. For me, my job is to wear clothes and make shapes with them - very simply in order to make them desirable enough for people to want to buy them. But it's not about my body. It's about how I use my body to interpret what I'm wearing.'
We're having a suitably adult conversation about all this when Erin's agent, Tori Edwards, comes in with tea. Tori, now one of the directors at ICM, has been by Erin's side since they both started out as models. 'I'm not allowed to go to "A Night in Fashion",' Tori says. 'I'm never allowed to watch. If she's having her photo taken, I have to turn round and not look at her, because I make her laugh.' Erin says: 'We're too close. I can't have my family there, either, nor my boyfriend. I don't think he's ever met my alter ego. I wipe the facade off quite literally when I come home. I collapse on the sofa and get the Wet Wipes out.' When Tori has left the room again, she adds, 'I couldn't be in this industry without her. Trying to find a balance of normality - that's what I personally need. Tori has taught me everything. She always says that to be humble is to be sane.'
13 According to the writer, at first glance the real Erin O'Connor appears
A incredibly tall.
В strikingly unusual.
C extremely attractive.
D surprisingly ordinary.
How did Erin react to the writer's first comment?
A She revealed her embarrassment.
В She kept her feelings to herself.
C She accepted the compliment.
D She showed her amusement.
What did the writer realise about Erin from the documentary 'This Model Life'?
A how uncompetitive she is
В how easily hurt she is
C how shy she really is
D how sensible she is
In the third paragraph, we learn that Erin
A helps girls to find work as models.
В gives regular interviews to the press.
C is involved in providing talented people with funds.
D organises support for models with personal problems.
As a schoolgirl, Erin
A did some training that was later to prove useful.
В overcame feelings of self-consciousness about her height.
C was not studying with a view to following any particular career.
D decided to change her appearance in order to get herself noticed.
How does Erin feel when she's on the catwalk?
A proud of her physical appearance
В aware that she's giving a performance
C unconcerned about what people think of her
D able to express her own feelings about the clothes
In the final paragraph, we learn that Erin
A finds it impossible to keep her work and private life separate.
В feels like a different person when she's working.
C gets nervous if her agent watches her at work.
D finds her work increasingly demanding.
You are going to read a magazine article in which restaurant owners talk about raising money for charity. For questions 20-34, choose from the restaurant owners (A-D).The restaurant owners may be chosen more than once.
Which restaurant owner mentions ...
dealing with customers who do not wish to make a donation?
feeling uncomfortable about the inequalities that exist in the world?
a disappointing response to an attempt to raise awareness?
a reason for choosing this charity over others?
being approached by a range of fundraising organisations?
long-term projects organised by the charity?
a local tradition of charitable work?
activities aimed at increasing the amount individuals donate?
a feeling of goodwill towards participating restaurants?
the need for more restaurants to get involved?
the need for customers to be aware that they are donating?
famous people taking on an unfamiliar role?
how much of the money collected reaches the people in need?
a commercial benefit of taking part in the project?
making customers feel that the week is special?
CHARITY BEGINS AT THE DINNER TABLE
Restaurants all over Britain have raised £100,000 to fight hunger in the Third World. We spoke to the owners of participating restaurants.
As a business, we weren't looking for a charity to support, but when we heard about this one, we just knew it was right for us. The campaign is making a real difference in the daily fight against hunger, and it's not just a question of saving the lives of severely malnourished children when there's a crisis, though that happens, it's also about helping to enable people in over forty countries to feed themselves and their families in the future. That way hunger can be kept at bay and crises averted. The aim at the moment is to bring as many restaurants on board as possible, because by coming together, the catering community can make a real impact. Each customer giving a small donation, each manager or chef putting together a local fundraising event, it all contributes enormously to the fight against hunger. And the charity makes sure that a high percentage of the funds collected actually find their way to the people who need it most.
The charity is particularly important for people in this profession. What we do is essentially superficial and frivolous, and it makes me uneasy at times to think that while people here are spending lavishly on slap-up meals, people elsewhere are going hungry. We simply put a surcharge on every customer's bill, openly, of course, because they need to appreciate what they are a part of. Most people cooperate willingly, but anyone who feels strongly can ask to have the donation removed, though, of course, it's disappointing when that happens. It's important to celebrate the food we have, and we're not in the business of making our customers feel guilty about the relative plenty they enjoy, but at the same time, we should be mindful of people less fortunate than ourselves. We're also organising a gala dinner where well-known TV celebrities will be putting in an appearance. Tickets for that will be at a premium, and the restaurant will be doing the dinners at cost.
We've been targeted by a whole raft of charities in recent years, but this one stood out for me as a very relevant choice for a restaurant business. Although customers don't generally object to a donation being added to their bill, we've found that actually engaging their interest leads to enhanced donations. Competitions such as guessing the weight of a cake, local TV celebrities serving at table, demonstrations by the head chef, etc. All these things bring people into the restaurant during the week of the appeal and creates a festive atmosphere, even if they are mostly regular customers. We don't set out to increase trade through our charity work, although I would hope that customers will feel well disposed to establishments that show they have a conscience.
For us, the charity week came just when we needed something to give us a boost. We've only recently taken over the restaurant from a manager who'd been involved with various local fundraising initiatives. But increased competition had eaten into his profitability and he'd decided to sell up. We knew, therefore, that there was an existing client base out there, who had been generous in the past, and we were looking for a way of raising our profile. We leafleted local businesses, colleges and libraries with details of the charity's work and our involvement with it. Although relatively few people came in during the week, which was a bit of a setback for us, the write-up in the local press did wonders in terms of spreading the word that we were here. So we took a long-term view and thought it was worth having another go this year. We've been working on a booklet of recipes which we'll give customers in return for a donation next time, which will also highlight local produce and recipes.
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