Listening to#3 Antony & The Johnsons “Another World”

Listening to #2

Islands
“Don’t call me Whitney, Bobby”

Listening to #1: Malajube

Molti mi dicono: “ma conosci così tanta musica!”. Non proprio..è che mi piace passare il tempo a scoprire, ascoltare. Ho deciso di iniziare una semi-rubrica “Listening to” per condividere ciò che mi piace in un determinato momento oppure una nuova scoperta.

Questa è “Montreal -40C” dei Malajube.

Glowing

E così siamo a Berlino per cercare appartamento. Otto visite in tre giorni. Niente male direi.

Siamo riusciti anche ad infilare una super colazione con pancakes, il solito e doveroso passaggio dal mega negozio di libri sulla Friedrichstraße e la festa di compleanno di J., il Migliore Amico. La festa aveva luogo nel bar di un teatro indipendente (aperto solo per noi). La sensazione migliore? Entrare nella stanza con una canzone degli Arctic Monkeys. Poi c’è stato un po’ (tanto) vino rosso, champagne, una chiaccherata a proposito di musica rock con un simpaticissimo amante del metal che detesta “Ruby” dei Kaiser Chiefs e la “happy music”. E alle 2.30 del mattino, sveglia da 24 ore, ci siamo incamminati verso casa degli amici che ci ospitano vicino ad Alexanderplatz sotto la neve che scendeva abbondante.

Ascoltate qualcosa tipo Bon Iver e rileggete questo post immaginando la neve che scende copiosa su Berlino mentre camminate alle 2.30 del mattino verso Alexanderplatz.

Ion Square – Bloc Party

Ion square, perspex swings
I breathe out, you breathe in
Permanent midnight
Our love, our love
How we’ve come to depend
On each other to the end
The space between us has disappeared
You finish my, you finish my words for me

I remember how it began
So many great days in a row
Barefoot on Bishopsgate
Trying to find Blake’s grave
If we could stay like this in a silver foil
Trapped in amber for a life
Permanent midnight
Our love, our love

I carry your heart here with me
I carry it in my heart
I carry your heart with me
I carry it in my heart

Who said unbroken happiness
Is a bore, is a bore?
Who said it, my love? I don’t mind it
Anymore, anymore
And I reach out a hand over your side of the bed
Pull that blanket over your shoulders exposed to the night
And the hunger of those early years will never return
But I don’t mind, I don’t mind
‘Cause I love my mind when I’m fucking you
Slowed down to a crawl
Years of crime and the bread line
Have not at all dimmed your shine
So let’s stay in, let the sofa be our car
Let’s stay in, let the TV be our stars
I found my dancing shoes but they don’t fit
All the bright lights do is bore me
They bore me

I carry your heart here with me
I carry it in my heart
I carry your heart with me
I carry it in my heart

“Your ex-lover is dead” by Stars

 

è tutto quello che vorrei dire ad una persona

God that was strange to see you again
Introduced by a friend of a friend
Smiled and said ‘yes I think we’ve met before’
In that instant it started to pour,
Captured a taxi despite all the rain
We drove in silence across Pont Champlain
And all of the time you thought I was sad
I was trying to remember your name…

This scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin
Tried to reach deep but you couldn’t get in
Now you’re outside me
You see all the beauty
Repent all your sin

It’s nothing but time and a face that you lose
I chose to feel it and you couldn’t choose
I’ll write you a postcard
I’ll send you the news
From a house down the road from real love…

Live through this, and you won’t look back…
Live through this, and you won’t look back…
Live through this, and you won’t look back…

There’s one thing I want to say, so I’ll be brave
You were what I wanted
I gave what I gave
I’m not sorry I met you
I’m not sorry it’s over
I’m not sorry there’s nothing to save

I’m not sorry there’s nothing to save…

Parameters (Ani di Franco)

thirty-three years go by
and not once do you come home
to find a man sitting in your bedroom
that is
a man you don't know
who came a long way to deliver one very specific message:
lock your back door, you idiot
however invincible you imagine yourself to be
you are wrong

thirty-three years go by
and you loosen the momentum of teenage nightmares
your breasts hang like a woman's
and you don't jump at shadows anymore
instead you may simply pause to admire
those that move with the grace of trees
dancing past streetlights
and you walk through your house without turning on lamps
sure of the angle from door to table
from table to staircase
sure of the number of steps
seven to the landing
two to turn right
then seven more
sure you will stroll serenely on the moving walkway of memory
across your bedroom
and collapse with a sigh onto your bed
shoes falling
thunk thunk
onto the floor
and there will be no strange man
suddenly all that time sitting there
sitting there on what must be the prize chair
in your collection of uncomfortable chairs
with a wild look in his eyes
and hands that you cannot see
holding what?
you do not know

so sure are you of the endless drumming rhythm of your isolation
that you are painfully slow to adjust
if only because
yours is not that genre of story
still and again, life cannot muster the stuff of movies
no bullets shattering glass
instead fear sits patiently
fear almost smiles when you finally see him
though you have kept him waiting for thirty-three years
and now he has let himself in
and he has brought you fistfuls of teenage nightmares
though you think you see, in your naivete
that he is empty handed
and this brings you great relief
at the time

new as you are, really, to the idea that
even after you've long since gotten used to the parameters
they can all change
while you're out one night having a drink with a friend
some big hand may be turning a big dial
switching channels on your dreams
until you find yourself lost in them
and watching your daily life with the sound off
and of course having cautiously turned down the flame under your eyes
there are more shadows around everything
your vision a dim flashlight that you have to shake all the way to the outhouse
your solitude elevating itself like the spirit of the dead
presiding over your supposed repose
not really sleep at all
just a sleeping position and a series of suspicious sounds
a clanking pipe
a creaking branch
the footfalls of a cat
all of this and maybe
the swish of the soft leather of your intruder's coat
as you walk him step by step back to the door
having talked him down off the ledge of a very bad idea
soft leather, big feet, almond eyes
the kinds of details the police officer would ask for later
with his clipboard
and his pistol
in your hallway

Not as we (Alanis Morissette)

Reborn and shivering
Spat out on new terrain

Unsure unconvincing
This faint and shaky hour

Day one day one start over again
Step one step one
I’m barely making sense for now
I’m faking it ’til I’m pseudo making it
From scratch begin again but this time I as I
And not as we

(…)

Right now – Madness (Alanis Morissette)

 

I’ve been most unwilling to see this turmoil of mine
The thought of sitting with this has me paralyzed

With this prolong exposure to mirror and averted eyes
I’ve feigned that I’ve been waiting: such mileage for empathizing

And now I see the maddness in me is brought out in the presence of you
And now I know the madness lives on, when you’re not in the room
And though I’d love to blame you for all, I’d miss these moments of opportune
You’ve simply brought this madness to light and I should thank you
Oh thank you, much thanks for this bird’s eye view
Oh thank you for your most generous triggers

It’s been all too easy to cross my arms and roll my eyes
The thought of dropping all arms leaves me terrified

I’d have to give up knowing and give up beaing right
You inadvertent hero, you angel in disguise

Non sono io, ma forse

Adele “Right as rain” 

 

Who wants to be right as rain, it’s better when something is wrong. 
You get excitement in your bones and everything you do is a game. 
When night comes and your on your own you can say I chose to be alone. 
Who wants to be right as rain, it’s harder when you’re on top. 

‘Cause when hard work don’t pay off and I’m tired, 
There ain’t no room in my bed, as far as I’m concerned. 
So wipe that dirty smile of, We 
won’t be making up, I’ve cried my heart out 
and now I’ve had enough of love. 

Who wants to be riding high when you’ll just crumble back on down. 
You give up everything you are and even then you don’t get far. 
They make believe that everything is exactly what it seems. 
But at least when you’re at your worst, you’ll know how to feel things. 

‘Cause when hard work don’t pay off and I’m tired, 
There ain’t no room in my bed, as far as I’m concerned. 
So wipe that dirty smile of, We 
won’t be making up, I’ve cried my heart out 
and now I’ve had enough of love. 

Go ahead and steal my heart to make me cry again, 
’cause it will never hurt as much it did then, 
when we were both right and no one had blame, 
but now I give up on this endless game. 

‘Cause who wants to be right as rain, it’s better when something is wrong. 
I get excitement in my bones, even though everything’s a strain. 
When night comes and I’m on my own, you should know I chose to be alone. 
Who wants to be right as rain, it’s harder when you’re on top. 

‘Cause when hard work don’t pay off and I’m tired, 
There ain’t no room in my bed, as far as I’m concerned. 
So wipe that dirty smile of, We 
won’t be making up, I’ve cried my heart out 
and now I’ve had enough of love