La musica è infatti quanto di più lontano si possa immaginare da tutto ciò, pur risultando di un'intensità sconvolgente, da prenderti il cuore, strizzarlo completamente e poi buttarlo nella spazzatura perché ormai inservibile, come un Jeff Buckley in minore, dei Red House Painters appena un poco più solari, con aggiunte di Nick Drake, echi dei primi Radiohead, lo slow-core americano, lo shoegaze, passando per il pop à la Belle & Sebastian; è come sospesa e sembra provenire da un luogo indefinito, o meglio, come dice il testo di una loro canzone, da qualche parte tra il mare e la terraferma.
Se non si fosse capito adoro questo disco, come pure i precedenti "Wires" e "Second storey". Insieme al bel disco d'esordio di Kevin "Broken Social Scene" Drew e agli Stars di "In our bedroom after the war" (che - yippie! - il 25 settembre suoneranno al Rainbow di Milano) sono giorni che passano in loop per tutto il tempo nel mio lettore.
Procurateveli.
Art of Fighting
Sycamore and sand
there's a place I know of in the western state
lost to any map that you can find
streets are made of cobble getting older
houses fade like coal after a fire
I don't know where I'm going
somewhere I don't need to have a plan
I don't know who I'm fighting now
anyone who falls across my hand
say no more, I'm gone
and who is emptier than who?
still you're waiting there against the black
just to see me coming back
but I don't think I'm likely to do that
I'm gonna be so different if you find me
you wont even realise I'm your man
slow and sure the coast will redefine me
turn me into sycamore and sand
I don't know where I'm going
somewhere where the water meets the land
I don't know why your troubling now
nobody can change who I now am
say no more, I'm gone
and who is emptier than who?
still you're waiting there against the black
just to see me coming back
but I don't think I'm likely to do that
no I don't think I'm likely to do that
Sycamore and sand
there's a place I know of in the western state
lost to any map that you can find
streets are made of cobble getting older
houses fade like coal after a fire
I don't know where I'm going
somewhere I don't need to have a plan
I don't know who I'm fighting now
anyone who falls across my hand
say no more, I'm gone
and who is emptier than who?
still you're waiting there against the black
just to see me coming back
but I don't think I'm likely to do that
I'm gonna be so different if you find me
you wont even realise I'm your man
slow and sure the coast will redefine me
turn me into sycamore and sand
I don't know where I'm going
somewhere where the water meets the land
I don't know why your troubling now
nobody can change who I now am
say no more, I'm gone
and who is emptier than who?
still you're waiting there against the black
just to see me coming back
but I don't think I'm likely to do that
no I don't think I'm likely to do that
Nessun commento:
Posta un commento