Is there a way out of this? If there is I don't see it Can Heaven and Hell coexist? Not when both battle for dominance
Brush back my tears and he said "girl We have to soldier on Yes girl even when we don't feel strong"
Dark Side of the Sun - Tori Amos
The trick is to keep breathing (?)
Happy Phantom - Tori Amos
And if I die today I'll be the happy phantom And I'll go chassin' the nuns out in the yard And I'll run naked through the streets without my mask on And I will never need umbrellas in the rain I'll wake up in strawberry fields every day And the atrocities of school I can forgive The happy phantom has no right to bitch oo who The time is getting closer oo who Time to be a ghost oo who Every day we're getting closer The sun is geting dim Will we pay for who we been
So if I die today I'll be the happy phantom And I'll go wearin' my naughties like a jewel They'll be my ticket to the universal opera There's Judy Garland taking Budda by the hand And then these seven little men get up to dance They say Confucius does his crossword with a pen I'm still the angel to a girl who hates to sin
oo who The time is getting closer oo who Time to be a ghost oo who Every day we're getting closer The sun is geting dim Will we pay for who we been
Or will I see you dear and wish I could come back You found a girl that you could truly love again Will you still call for me when she falls asleep Or do we soon forget the things we cannot see
oo who The time is getting closer oo who Time to be a ghost oo who Every day we're getting closer The sun is geting dim Will we pay for who we been
02:31 am: ... PERO IR POR NADA ES TONTERÍA
He pasado estas últimas 30 horas (aprox., no con el reloj en la mano) con mi Dr., con lo que ni me he conectado a internet ni he hecho nada de provecho que se pueda contar públicamente. Ah, hemos ido a la filmoteca a ver Brazil, pero entre que tenía sueño, acababa de salir de una clase agotadora, ya me había tomado unas cervecillas y que la película me pareció -sinceramente- insufrible, acabé por quedarme frita. Hablando de sueño y de sueños, leo en la anterior entrada que Bernardo me recomienda mimos (no de los que fingen estar atrapados en una jaula de cristal, no) para descansar mejor y no seguir sufriendo parálisis del sueño. Pues la cosa hubiera funcionado de no haber sido porque cuando mi compañero de cama se levantó para empezar el día yo decidí quedarme durmiendo "un ratito más". En ese ratito más me dio tiempo a tener una pesadilla ordinaria normalita y una alucinación: había una tipa agazapada al pie de la cama, con la cabeza y los brazos apoyados y mirándome. En serio, se me quitan las ganas de volver a acostarme, pero desgraciamente es otra de esas puñeteras funciones vitales que no queda más remedio que seguir llevando a cabo.
Y no sé muy bien cómo, pero finalmente he conseguido llevarme una impresión lo suficientemente fuerte, o eso espero, para no alucinar pepinillos mañana: hace tiempo leí la letra de "Si la muerte", una canción interpretada por Diamanda Galás que no he conseguido descargarme de ninguna manera, ni poniendo velitas a Santa Mula del Ligre Bendito. La letra dice así:
Si la muerte viene y pregunta por mí Haga el favor De decirle que vuelva mañana Que todavía no he cancelado mis deudas Ni he terminado un poema Ni he ordenado mi ropa para el viaje Ni he llevado a su destino el encargo ajeno Ni he echado llave en mis gavetas
Ni he dicho lo que debía decir a los amigos Ni he sentido el olor de la rosa Que no ha nacido Ni he desenterrado mis raíces Ni he escrito una carta pendiente Que ni siquiera me he lavado las manos Ni he conocido un hijo Ni he emprendido caminatas en paises desconocidos Ni conozco los siete velos del mar (Ni la canción del marino)
Si la muerte viniera Diga por favor que estoy enterado Que me haga una espera Que no le he dado a mi novia ni un beso de despedida Que no he repartido mi mano con las de la familia Ni he desempolvado los libros Ni he silbado la canción preferida Ni me he reconciliado con los enemigos (Digale que no he probado el suicidio, Ni he visto libre a mi gente)
Dígale, si quiere, que vuelva mañana Que no es que le tema pero, ni siquiera... Dígale, si quiere, que vuelva mañana Que no es que le tema pero, ni siquiera... Dígale, si quiere, que vuelva mañana Que no es que le tema pero, ni siquiera... Dígale, si quiere, que vuelva mañana Que no es que le tema pero, ni siquiera... He empezado a andar el camino.
De modo que me gustó lo que leí, caramba, y quise ver qué tal sonaba en la poderosa voz de la Galás. Ten cuidado con lo que deseas, que le dicen. Aquí tenéis el vídeo (incluye una segunda canción de regalo, pero estoy algo dormida y no tengo ni idea de cuál es):
El reto, claro, es definir ahora esta canción en pocas palabras. Yo me voy a esperar a mañana, que si empiezo ya a buscar adjetivos seguro que la Galás me mata a pedradas, que con esa cara de mala que tiene seguro que posee omnisciencia y sabe cuándo alguien se mete con su forma de pronunciar idiomas ajenos...
02:24 am: Y ADEMÁS TIENE UNA COREOGRAFÍA QUE TODOS PODREMOS BAILAR
Ésta es una de las canciones que uso para levantarme el ánimo. Es alegre, es tonta, es japonesa (con esto no he dicho gran cosa, también podría ser Yatta!), y es de Kyoko Fukada, una idol a la que muchos conoceréis, al igual que la canción, por la película Dolls, de Kitano. Sí, realmente si tenemos en cuenta el contexto de la canción en la película resulta que me animo con cosas bastante deprimentes.
De Kyoko no he escuchado mucho más, tampoco es que la música J-Pop me vuelva especialmente loca, pero os pongo el vídeo porque, aunque le sobren unos kilitos, tiene una carita monísima y tremendamente dulce.
Kimi No Hitomi Ni Koishiteru - Kyoko Fukada
Koi wo suru to onnanoko wa kirei ni naru-tte minna iu ne honto wa dou sou da to ii yo ne hazukashigari hanikami ya no tereyasan mo koi shiteru to hitomi ga hora kirakira shite kuru
fukada mo sakin kirei ni natta to yoku iwaremasu ga sore-tte yappari tsumarisou iu koto na no desu ka?
me to me ga au mitsumerarete koi ga hajimaru no mitsumeatte mitsumekaesu biimu ga hashiru no mamemimumemo. mamemimumamo. mamemimu. majikaru biimu mamemimumemo. mamemimumamo. mamemimu. majikaru biimu
koi wo shitte onnanoko mo otona ni naru-tte minna iu ne musekinin na ohanashi desu yo ne
fukada mo saikin otona ni natta to yoku iwaremasu ga kore demo hisoka ni jimichi ni watashi mo doryoku shitemasu
me to me ga au mitsumerarete mahou ga kakaru no mitsumenaide dogomagi suru wa shika ni kakaru no mamemimumemo. mamemimumamo. mamemimu. majikaru biimu mamemimumemo. mamemimumamo. mamemimu. majikaru biimu
fukada mo saikin kangaekondari shite shimaimasu ga sono uchi watashi mo suteki na dareka to deau no deshou ka?
me to me ga au mitsumerarete koi ga hajimaru no mitsumeatte mitsumekaesu biimu ga hashiru no mamemimumemo. mamemimumamo. mamemimu. majikaru biimu mamemimumemo. mamemimumamo. mamemimu. majikaru biimu
me to me ga au mitsumerarete koi ga hajimaru no mitsumeatte mitsumekaesu biimu ga hashiru no mamemimumemo. mamemimumamo. mamemimu. majikaru biimu mamemimumemo. mamemimumamo. mamemimu. majikaru biimu
Pseudotraducción de la que no me hago responsable:
When they are in love, everyone says that girls become beautiful I'm telling you, I hope it's true, right? Even shy girls' eyes are glittering and when they are in love eyes sparkle
These days, Fukada is often said saying she is getting more beautiful So that's true?
CHORUS Our eyes make contact, be gazed, love begins Gaze, gaze back, beam shoots back Randomly, randomly, randomly a magic beam. Randomly, randomly, randomly a magic beam.
When girls fall in love, they grow up. I'm telling you, everyone says isn't it irresponsible, right?
These days, Fukada is often said saying she is getting more beautiful Strange as it may seem, I'm secretly putting my effort
Our eyes make contact, be gazed, I'm under a spell Don't stare at me, I'll fall into a flutter, I'll catch measles Randomly, randomly, randomly a magic beam. Randomly, randomly, randomly a magic beam.
Recently Fukada drops into deep thought
* repeat CHORUS 2x
Randomly, randomly, randomly a magic beam. Randomly, randomly, randomly a magic beam.
Totalmente tonta, como ya dije; parece que es un requisito indispensable para que una canción tenga efecto terapéutico... Aunque otras que me animan son Doing the Unstuck, de The Cure, Let's Dance, de Bowie, Girls Just Want To Have Fun, de Cyndi Lauper, Coin Operated Boy, de los Dresden Dolls, el Under The Sea de la BSO de cierta película... y cualquier cosa tipo Beyond the Sea o Cheek to Cheek, que también estarían en la lista de canciones para sentirse en la gloria bendita, oiga. Ahora, la pregunta del millón. Sabéis que necesito este tipo de información para mis superiores extraterrestres:
05:42 pm: THIS WOMAN'S WORK
Vale, es cierto que estoy repitiendo las canciones del año pasado... Pero en este caso está perfectamente justificado: una de mis canciones favoritas de Kate Bush, This Woman's Work, se ha enfrentado a la versión que un fulano llamado Maxwell hizo con voz de falsete... ¡¡¡y ha perdido!!!
Os dejo la oportunidad de escuchar ambas versiones antes de votar, pero después... ¡votad, votad, malditos!
La canción originalmente la hizo Kate por encargo para la película She's Having a Baby, de John Hughes (el de El club de los cinco y esas cosas). Sale en la escena en que Kevin Bacon está esperando en el hospital mientras su mujer intenta echar el bicho, y empieza a haber problemas porque el coso viene de culo... Muy dramático, pero a mí me llega bastante más el vídeo que ella se ha currado. Además de la voz. Además de la música. Además de la letra. (... Y yo que la conocí por la mierda de peli que es Diario de un amor violado, ¡puarg!)
1) Si alguien quiere alguna de las dos versiones en mp3, las tengo ;-) 2) Y votad, leches, a la que más os guste. Que se note que tenemos sangre en el cuerpo
Love me, love me, love me, say you do Let me fly away with you For my love is like the wind, and wild is the wind Wild is the wind Give me more than one caress, satisfy this hungriness Let the wind blow through your heart For wild is the wind, wild is the wind
[CHORUS] You touch me, I hear the sound of mandolins You kiss me With your kiss my life begins You're spring to me, all things to me Don't you know, you're life itself!
Like the leaf clings to the tree, Oh, my darling, cling to me For we're like creatures of the wind, and wild is the wind Wild is the wind
[CHORUS]
Like the leaf clings to the tree, Oh, my darling, cling to me For we're like creatures in the wind, and wild is the wind Wild is the wind
Versión de Nina Simone (las imágenes son... son de... no sé qué cuernos es esto, la verdad... ¿¿¿"Keep love in your life"???):
You are one of God's mistakes You crying, tragic waste of skin I'm well aware of how it aches And you still won't let me in. Now I'm breaking down your door To try and save your swollen face Though I don't like you anymore You lying, trying waste of space...
Before our innocence was lost You were always one of those Blessed with lucky sevens And the voice that made me cry. My Oh My.
You were mother nature's son Someone to whom I could relate Your needle and your damage done Remains a sordid twist of fate. Now I'm trying to wake you up To pull you from the liquid sky Coz if I don't we'll both end up With just your song to say goodbye. My Oh My.
A song to say goodbye A song to say goodbye A song to say...
Before our innocence was lost You were always one of those Blessed with lucky sevens And the voice that made me cry.
Gloomy Sunday - the notorious 'Hungarian Suicide Song' - was written in 1933. Its melody and original lyrics were the creation of Rezső Seress, a self-taught pianist and composer born in Hungary in 1899. The crushing hopelessness and bitter despair which characterised the two stanza penned by Seress were superseded by the more mournful, melancholic verses of Hungarian poet László Jávor.
When the song came to public attention it quickly earned its reputation as a 'suicide song'. Reports from Hungary alleged individuals had taken their lives after listening to the haunting melody, or that the lyrics had been left with their last letters.
The lyricists Sam M. Lewis and Desmond Carter each penned an English translatation of the song. It was Lewis's version, first recorded by Hal Kemp and his Orchestra, with Bob Allen on vocals (1936), that was to become the most widely covered.
The popularity of Gloomy Sunday increased greatly through its interpretation by Billie Holiday (1941). In an attempt to alleviate the pessemistic tone a third stanza was added to this version, giving the song a dreamy twist, yet still the suicide reputation remained. Gloomy Sunday was banned from the playlists of major radio broadcasters around the world. The B.B.C. deemed it too depressing for the airwaves.
Despite all such bans, Gloomy Sunday continued to be recorded and sold. People continued to buy the recordings; some committed suicide.
Rezső Seress jumped to his death from his flat in 1968.
Szomorú Vasárnap - Rezsô Seress
Ősz van és peregnek a sárgult levelek Meghalt a földön az emberi szeretet Bánatos könnyekkel zokog az öszi szélSzívem már új tavaszt nem vár és nem remél Hiába sírok és hiába szenvedek Szívtelen rosszak és kapzsik az emberek...
Meghalt a szeretet!
Vége a világnak, vége a reménynek Városok pusztulnak, srapnelek zenélnek Emberek vérétől piros a tarka rét Halottak fekszenek az úton szerteszét Még egyszer elmondom csendben az imámat: Uram, az emberek gyarlók és hibáznak...
It is autumn and the leaves are falling All love has died on earth The wind is weeping with sorrowful tears My heart will never hope for a new spring again My tears and my sorrows are all in vain People are heartless, greedy and wicked...
Love has died!
The world has come to its end, hope has ceased to have a meaning Cities are being wiped out, shrapnel is making music Meadows are coloured red with human blood There are dead people on the streets everywhere I will say another quiet prayer: People are sinners, Lord, they make mistakes...
The world has ended!
Gloomy Sunday (Traducción de Desmond Carter)
Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless. Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless. Little white flowers will never awaken you, Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you. Angels have no thought of ever returning you Would they be angry if i thought of joining you? Gloomy sunday
Gloomy Sunday, with shadows I spend it all; My heart and I have decided to end it all. Soon there'll be candles and prayers that are sad, I know; Let them not weep, let them know that I'm glad to go. Death is no dream, for in death I'm caressing you; With the last breath of my soul, I'll be blessing you.
Dreaming - I was only dreaming. I wake and I find you asleep in the deep of my heart, dear. Darling, I hope that my dream never haunted you; My heart is telling you how much I wanted you. Gloomy Sunday.
Sadly one Sunday, I waited and waited With flowers in my arms, for the grief I'd created I waited 'til dreams like my heart were all broken The flowers were all dead and the words were unspoken The grief that I knew was beyond all consoling The beat of my heart was a bell that was tolling Saddest of Sundays
Then came the Sunday when you came to find me They brought me to church and I left you behind me My eyes would not see what I wanted to love me The earth and the flowers of the lover above me The bell tolled for me and the wind whispered 'never' But you I have loved and I bless you forever Last of all Sundays
On my way up north Up on the ventura I pulled back the hood And I was talking to you And I knew then it would be A life long thing But I didn't know that we We could break a silver lining
And I'm so sad Like a good book I can't put this Day back A sorta fairytale With you A sorta fairytale With you
Things you said that day Up on the 101 The girl had come undone I tried to downplay it With a bet about us You said that- You'd take it As long as I could I could not erase it
And I'm so sad Like a good book I can't put this Day back A sorta fairytale With you A sorta fairytale With you
And I ride along side And I rode along side You then And I rode along side Till you lost me there In the open road And I rode along side Till the honey spread Itself so thin For me to break your bread For me to take your word I had to steal it
Way up north I took my day All in all was a pretty nice Day and I put the hood Right back where You could taste heaven Perfectly Feel out the summer breeze Didn't know when we'd be back And I i don't Didn't think We'd end up like Like this
And I'm so sad Like a good book I can't put this Day back A sorta fairytale With you A sorta fairytale With you I could pick back up Whenever I feel
It doesn't hurt me. Do you want to feel how it feels? Do you want to know, know that it doesn't hurt me? Do you want to hear about the deal that I'm making? You, it's you and me.
And if I only could, I'd make a deal with God, And I'd get him to swap our places, Be running up that road, Be running up that hill, Be running up that building. Say, If I only could, oh...
You don't want to hurt me, But see how deep the bullet lies. Unaware I'm tearing you asunder. Ooh, there is thunder in our hearts.
Is there so much hate for the ones we love? Tell me, we both matter, don't we? You, it's you and me. It's you and me won't be unhappy.
And if I only could, I'd make a deal with God, And I'd get him to swap our places, Be running up that road, Be running up that hill, Be running up that building, Say, if I only could, oh...
You, It's you and me, It's you and me won't be unhappy.
"C'mon, baby, c'mon darling, Let me steal this moment from you now. C'mon, angel, c'mon, c'mon, darling, Let's exchange the experience, oh..."
And if I only could, I'd make a deal with God, And I'd get him to swap our places, Be running up that road, Be running up that hill, With no problems.
say if I only could, I'd make a deal with God, And I'd get him to swap our places, Be running up that road, Be running up that hill, With no problems.
So if I only could, I'd make a deal with God, And I'd get him to swap our places, Be running up that road, Be running up that hill, With no problems.
So if I only could Be running up that hill With no problems...
"If I only could, I'd be running up that hill. If I only could, I'd be running up that hill."
Out on the wiley, windy moors We'd roll and fall in green. You had a temper like my jealousy: Too hot, too greedy. How could you leave me, When I needed to possess you? I hated you. I loved you, too.
Bad dreams in the night. They told me I was going to lose the fight, Leave behind my wuthering, wuthering Wuthering Heights.
Heathcliff, it's me--Cathy. Come home. I'm so cold! Let me in-a-your window.
Heathcliff, it's me--Cathy. Come home. I'm so cold! Let me in-a-your window.
Ooh, it gets dark! It gets lonely, On the other side from you. I pine a lot. I find the lot Falls through without you. I'm coming back, love. Cruel Heathcliff, my one dream, My only master.
Too long I roam in the night. I'm coming back to his side, to put it right. I'm coming home to wuthering, wuthering, Wuthering Heights,
Heathcliff, it's me--Cathy. Come home. I'm so cold! Let me in-a-your window.
Heathcliff, it's me--Cathy. Come home. I'm so cold! Let me in-a-your window.
Ooh! Let me have it. Let me grab your soul away. Ooh! Let me have it. Let me grab your soul away. You know it's me--Cathy!
Heathcliff, it's me--Cathy. Come home. I'm so cold! Let me in-a-your window.
Heathcliff, it's me--Cathy. Come home. I'm so cold! Let me in-a-your window.
Heathcliff, it's me--Cathy. Come home. I'm so cold!
Pray God you can cope. I stand outside this woman's work, This woman's world. Ooh, it's hard on the man, Now his part is over. Now starts the craft of the father.
I know you have a little life in you yet. I know you have a lot of strength left. I know you have a little life in you yet. I know you have a lot of strength left.
I should be crying, but I just can't let it show. I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking
Of all the things I should've said, That I never said. All the things we should've done, That we never did. All the things I should've given, But I didn't.
Oh, darling, make it go, Make it go away.
Give me these moments back. Give them back to me. Give me that little kiss. Give me your hand.
(I know you have a little life in you yet. I know you have a lot of strength left. I know you have a little life in you yet. I know you have a lot of strength left.)
I should be crying, but I just can't let it show. I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking
Of all the things we should've said, That were never said. All the things we should've done, That we never did. All the things that you needed from me. All the things that you wanted for me. All the things that I should've given, But I didn't.
Oh, darling, make it go away. Just make it go away now.
5 AM Friday morning Thursday night Far from sleep I'm still up and driving Can't go home obviously So I'll just change direction 'Cause they'll soon know where I live And I wanna live Got a full tank and some chips It was me and a gun and a man on my back And I sang 'Holy Holy' as he buttoned down his pants You can laugh It's kinda funny The things you think at times like these Like I haven't seen Barbados So I must get out of this
Yes, I wore a slinky red thing Does that mean I should spread For you Your friends Your father Mr. Ed It's me and a gun and a man on my back But I haven't seen Barbados So I must get out of this
I know what this means Me and Jesus a few years back Used to hang And he said "it's your choice, babe Just remember I don't think you'll be back In 3 days time So you choose well" Tell me what's right Is it my right To be on my stomach Of Fred's Seville It's me and a gun and a man on my back But I haven't seen Barbados So I must get out of this
And do you know Carolina Where the biscuits are soft and sweet These things that go through your head When there's a man on your back And you're pushed flat on your stomach It's not a classic Cadillac It's me and a gun and a man on my back And I haven't seen Barbados So I must get out of this I haven't seen Barbados So I must get out of this
The ocean doesn't want me today But I'll be back tomorrow to play And the strangles will take me Down deep in their brine The mischievous braingels Down into the endless blue wine I'll open my head and let out all of my time I'd love to go drowning And to stay and to stay But the ocean doesn't want me today I'll go in up to here It can't possibly hurt All they will find is my beer and my shirt A rip tide is raging And the life guard is away But the ocean doesn't want me today But the ocean doesn't want me today The ocean doesn't want me today
Para quien no reconozca este nombre, hay otro que quizás sí haga repicar campanas: Columbia.
Little Nell, nacida Laura Elizabeth Campbell en la lejana Australia, encarnó a los veintidós añitos el que sería el papel de su vida: la groupie pelirroja, bailarina de claqué y portadora de voz de pito más famosa de todos los tiempos.
Tras un posible pasado como nadadora olímpica, Little Nell -así apodada por su padre- conoció a Richard O'Brien en Londres mientras "hacía arte callejero", i.e. bailaba claqué con un sombrero en el suelo (a veces me pregunto si la parte que canta Columbia en el Time Warp no hará referencia a eso...). El caso es que fue inmediatamente reclutada para la obra que luego daría paso a la película, y de ahí a ganarse el corazoncito de montones de fans no hubo más que un paso; amor que ha resultado ser mutuo y que se nota cada vez que acude a una convención de fans con Richard y Pat. Al contrario que a la rancia de Susan Sarandon, le encanta RHPS y todo lo que ha supuesto, aunque después haya hecho un poco de todo. Como todos (menos Susan).
Como actriz ha participado en películas como, ejem, Shock Treatment, Jubilee y Pink Floyd:The Wall (un papel diminuto, pero ahí está, haciendo nuevamente de groupie). También abrió varios garitos, seguro que os suena el Nell's. Actualmente trabaja como periodista para un periódico.
Pero, naturalmente, también probó suerte como cantante, y aquí tenéis los resultados:
La calidad de los vídeos es bastante mala, pero os hacéis una idea... Son canciones sencillitas y pegadizas, cantadas con esa inconfundible y taladrante voz suya. En cualquier caso, yo me había matado para conseguir las canciones en mp3 y después de tanto trabajo voy y me las encuentro todas toditas con versiones alternativas, letras, portadas y tal en esta estupendísima página: Nell's World. Os las podéis descargar de ahí y me ahorro el trabajo de subirlas :-)
PD: No he mencionado la mala costumbre que tiene de enseñar sus encantos porque es algo obvio. Además de, como Columbia, el flash-pezón que hace al estirar el pijama, o cuando se empiezan a escapar sus traviesas amigas del corsé en Rose Tint My World, ha habido unas cuantas ocasiones más en que sin razón aparente ha dejado ver bastante más que su cara bonita. Un ejemplo es éste, otro lo tenéis aquí...
Que alguien me subtitule esta imagen, por favor :-DDD
Porque filias hay muchas, y una de las mías son las mujeres con voces capaces de reventar cristales (¿no es terribilísimamemente femenino? ¿No os da una tremendísima envidia?). Cuentan que Marilyn Monroe estuvo a punto de no llegar a nada porque, según decían, con esa voz de pito no se la podía tomar en serio; yo no voy a ponerme ahora a criticar a nadie porque tengo muy presente que en su día pronostiqué el absoluto fracaso de Gran Hermano y Operación Triunfo. Lo que sí voy a hacer es un top cinco con mis Damas del Helio favoritas, aunque como la número uno es especial de por sí y además tengo un tag para ese tipo de contenidos, me la reservo para otra entrada (la de mañana, a ser posible).
5) Joey Lauren Adams: todos la conocéis por películas como Mallrats o, sobre todo, Chasing Amy, pero sólo habéis podido apreciar el encanto de esta mujer viendo dichas pelis en VOS; tiene una voz hipnótica, ¡hipnótica, os digo! Como dato significativo, dicen en la IMDB que cuando su hermano cayó en coma tras un accidente, sólo respondía al sonido de su significativa (eso es como cuando te dicen que eres "peculiar") voz. Ella misma dice: "It's not a normal voice. It doesn't fit into people's preconceptions about what a woman's voice should sound like. My mom doesn't think I have an unusual voice, though. I'm sure it's helped me get some roles. But Chasing Amy, I almost didn't get. There was concern the voice would grate on some people -- which some critics said it did." Otra en esta línea sería la estupendísima Jennifer-lazosardientes-Tilly, pero que yo sepa no canta, y Joey lo hizo al menos en una ocasión...
4) Virg/jinia Glück: me niego a empezar con la frase "¿os acordáis...?", pero es uno de esos casos de famosa-por-un-día. Hace cosa de diez años surgió como de la nada, aunque con ese poderoso apellido a la espalda y el apoyo del odioso Teo Cardalda; le metió con calzador a su nombre esa jota tan sonora para darse más personalidad, por si con llamar a sus canciones "histerias" (y con motivo), su rango vocal, el haber sido bailarina la tira de años y su pelo rojo no bastase. Tras un par de años la niña se calmó, cambió la jota por una ge y se cortó el pelo (tsk, tsk); sacó un nuevo disco, fue un fracaso de ventas igual que el anterior, y tras una gran rabieta desapareció del panorama, aunque cuenta la leyenda que actualmente toca el clarinete en la banda de Enrique Bunbury (?????). En cualquier caso, era divertida de ver y oir porque iba de "soy la hija que tendrían Tori Amos y Kate Bush si la ciencia avanzase en la dirección correcta": la han acusado no sólo de calcar el estilo de ambas cantantes como si en España no las conociera nadie aparte de ella, sino de plagiar, directamente, canciones y portadas de Tori. Bueno, al menos yo me divertí bastante con ello, fue como ver un accidente :-D Hoy apenas tiene presencia en internet (la única web que queda en pie es ésta), salvo por la típica referencia que empieza con un "¿os acordáis...?" (¡puta generación de la añoranza!), pero he encontrado el vídeo de la más famosa de sus canciones, y ya de paso os dejo el mp3. Por cierto, ni os molestéis en buscar sus discos en tiendas, los descatalogaron por falta de ventas enseguida...
3) Kate Bush, lógicamente :-D No sólo porque sea la original -y tanto- y no la copia (ojo, que esto de copiarla no es más que un instinto primario), sino porque la Glück no tiene Wuthering Heights y ésta sí. Otra canción tremendamente famosa de Kate es This Woman's Work, verdadera protagonista de la espantosa película Diario de un amor violado: si no sale trescientas veces, no sale ninguna. El cedé es promocionado con tanto descaro que es para preguntarse quién cuernos produjo la cinta... En cualquier caso, os dejo aquí el enlace al vídeo y al mp3, con advertencia incluída: no adecuada para días malos. Y ahora, disfrutad con las caras que pone en Wuthering Heights.
2) Cyndi Lauper: ¡y recordad, niños, la primera es una Y y la segunda una I! Es una de mis cantantes favoritas desde que tengo orejas, y aunque actualmente su aspecto no sea ése por el que la recorda(re)mos, he de reconocer que es la única persona a la que le perdono el tener mofletes: probablemente le sirvan para cantar así, o algo. Y no es sólo una forma de vestir o de cantar, sus letras tienen bastante más miga de lo que parece a simple vista: She Bop, por ejemplo, es una oda al onanismo (¡letras!), y I Don't Wanna Be Your Friend resume mi postura al respecto punto por punto. Os dejo el mp3 de la canción de los Goonies, y el vídeo de la canción alegramañanas por antonomasia: Girls Just Want to Have Fun.
12:50 am: SONG TO THE SIREN (revisited)
Y de pronto, sin previo aviso, sin darme tiempo a tomarme quince lexatines blister incluído o a firmar un seguro de vida a todo riesgo, me topo con esta terrible y peligrosa comparación entre las dos versiones más importantes de Song to the Siren. Ni siquiera yo me he querido atrever en serio a pensar en cuál es mejor. La original es la de Tim Buckley, pero la que todo el mundo conoce es la de This Mortal Coil con Liz Fraser (que llegó a ella vía Jeff Buckley, el hijísimo, con quien tuvo un algo), que habéis oído en a) la BSO de Carretera Perdida (Patricia Arquette + el desierto + los faros del coche), b) el anuncio de Noa de Cacharel, c) ambas. Pero la habéis oído, seguro.
Yo llegué por la vía a), y me tiré de los pelos creyendo que me había quedado sin ella al ver que en la BSO finalmente no habían incluído la canción porque, según David Lynch, "Ivo, the producer, was happy for it to be in the film, but its something very emotional to Ivo and he didn't want to exploit it any further."
Por eso luego salió en el anuncio de un perfume, ¿verdad?
En fin, el caso es que la canción "sin nombre" quedó aparcada en un rinconcito de mi memoria, hasta que descubrí las maravillas del emule combinado con Google (uno de los mejores combinados junto con la ginebra con tónica). Llegué a la canción cantada por Liz, y me topé con Tim Buckley. Ya sabéis que me pirran las versiones, y además quería saber cómo sonaba la canción originalmente.
Cuando me recompuse -y me llevó un rato- seguí tirando del hilo. Ahora tengo prácticamente toda la discografía de Tim Buckley, y os aseguro que Song to the Siren no tiene nada, nada que ver con el resto de sus canciones. Es otro estilo, otra voz, otra persona. Es rarísimo; como si en vez de haber salido de él hubiera hecho el camino inverso. Parece uno de esos casos en que un cantante cambia de la noche a la mañana y todo el mundo habla luego de que murió haciendo la mili y le sustituyeron por el gemelo, solo que duró una sola canción. Suficiente para que décadas después haya gente que la descubra por primera vez y se encuentre llorando a lágrima viva sobre algo que ni siquiera tiene que ver con nada real.
Probablemente esto sea interpretable incluso por mí como que prefiero esta versión, pero también creo que la de Liz es preciosa (no se limitaron a cambiar un par de detallitos, no. La convirtieron en el cubito de hielo que te baja por la espalda). En realidad, no quiero mojarme, pero os voy a pedir a vosotros que lo hagáis. Como esas 104 personas que han dado su voto, su sí o no radical y definitivo. Yo no tendría valor, pero seguro que no soy la mejor de los presentes :-)
Hace meses que escucho esta canción, ambas versiones a diario. No lo llamemos obsesión sino más bien apasionamiento, ¿de acuerdo? Too beautiful for the masses... (tú sabes quién eres) si algún día lees esto, que sepas que la culpa de que recordara esta canción y decidiera buscarla fue de tu insistencia con el It'll End in Tears. Me debes una puñetera caja de pañuelos. O dos. Y cuando digo que tienes la culpa quiero decir que gracias.
Y ahora os proveo de los medios para que decidáis por vosotros mismos.
Song to the Siren
Long afloat on shipless oceans I did all my best to smile til your singing eyes and fingers Drew me loving to your isle And you sang Sail to me Sail to me Let me enfold you Here I am Here I am Waiting to hold you
Did I dream you dreamed about me? Were you hare when I was fox? Now my foolish boat is leaning Broken lovelorn on your rocks, For you sing, touch me not, touch me not, come back tomorrow: O my heart, o my heart shies from the sorrow
I am puzzled as the newborn child I am troubled at the tide: Should I stand amid the breakers? Should I lie with death my bride? Hear me sing, swim to me, swim to me, let me enfold you: Here I am, here I am, waiting to hold you
EDIT.:Gracias a un comentario de R. puedo puntualizar -y puntualizo- que Liz Fraser no llegó a Song to the Siren a través de Jeff Buckley porque por aquel entonces ni se conocían siquiera. Y luego sí, se conocieron, se conocieron en el sentido bíblico, y seguramente cantaron a dúo la canción ésta y tuvieron alguna bronca sobre cuál de las dos versiones es mejor. Algunas cosas son impepinables :-D
In Power We Entrust the Love Advocated - Dead Can Dance
Sail on silver wings Through this storm What fortune love may bring Back to my arms again The love of a former golden age I am disabled by fears concerning which course to take For now that wheels are turning I find my faith deserting me
This night is filled with cries Of dispossesed children in search of paradise A sign of a sign of unresolved ambition Drives the pinwheel on and on I am disabled by fears concerning which course to take When memory bears witness to the innocence Consumed in dying rage
The way lies through our love There can be no other means to the end Or keys to my heart You will never find You will never find
I stand, look in my hands I talk with these lines It's not the answer I'm crying and now I know Looking the sky I search an answer So free, free to be I'm not another liar I just want to be myself... myself
And now the beat inside me is a sort of a cold breeze and I've never any feeling inside around me I bring my body carry it into another world I know I live... but like a stone I'm falling down
Damned, looking into the sky I can feel this rain right now it's falling on me fly, I just want to fly life is all mine some days I cry alone, but I know I'm not the only one I see that another day is gone I don't wanna die... Please be here when I arrive, don't die... please
Love me, love me, love me Say you do Let me fly away with you For my love is like the wind And wild is the wind Wild is the wind
Give me more than one caress Satisfy this hungriness Let the wind blow through your heart Oh wild is the wind Wild is the wind
You touch me I hear the sound of mandolins You kiss me With your kiss my life begins You're spring to me All things to me Don't you know You're life itself!
Like the leaf Clings to the tree Oh my darling cling to me For we're like creatures of the wind And wild is the wind Wild is the wind
You touch me I hear the sound of mandolins You kiss me With your kiss my life begins You're spring to me All things to me Don't you know You're life itself!
Like the leaf Clings to the tree Oh my darling cling to me For we're like creatures of the wind And wild is the wind Wild is the wind, wild is the wind Wild is the wind, wild is the wind
06:19 pm: (PERDÓN POR EL PASTEL) Smith met Mary Poole in school when he was 14 years old. They have been together since and were married in August 13th, 1988. Smith wrote "Lovesong" as a wedding present to Mary.
Lovesong - The Cure
Whenever I'm alone with you You make me feel like I am home again Whenever I'm alone with you You make me feel like I am whole again Whenever I'm alone with you You make me feel like I am young again Whenever I'm alone with you You make me feel like I am fun again
However far away I will always love you However long I stay I will always love you Whatever words I say I will always love you I will always love you
Whenever I'm alone with you You make me feel like I am free again Whenever I'm alone with you You make me feel like I am clean again
However far away I will always love you However long I stay I will always love you Whatever words I say I will always love you I will always love you
Ask me for it and I'll give you a letter and you have to find five songs that start with that letter and post them to your journal.
La señorita Electracine me ha asignado la letra C (y no la CH porque, para empezar, no es una letra, y además porque creyó que lo tendría más difícil... En realidad lo podría haber hecho también así, pero lo mismo me da que me da lo mismo). Allí van mis cinco mal contadas ;-)
"Show me how you do that trick The one that makes me scream" she said "The one that makes me laugh" she said And threw her arms around my neck "Show me how you do it And I promise you I promise that I'll run away with you I'll run away with you"
Spinning on that dizzy edge I kissed her face and kissed her head And dreamed of all the different ways I had To make her glow "Why are you so far away?" she said "Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you That I'm in love with you"
You Soft and only You Lost and lonely You Strange as angels Dancing in the deepest oceans Twisting in the water You're just like a dream
Daylight licked me into shape I must have been asleep for days And moving lips to breathe her name I opened up my eyes And found myself alone alone Alone above a raging sea That stole the only girl I loved And drowned her deep inside of me
You Soft and only You Lost and lonely You Just like heaven
Now you say you're lonely You cry the whole night through Well, you can cry me a river, cry me a river I cried a river over you
Now you say you're sorry For bein' so untrue Well, you can cry me a river, cry me a river I cried a river over you
You drove me, nearly drove me out of my head While you never shed a tear Remember, I remember all that you said Told me love was too plebeian Told me you were through with me and Now you say you love me Well, just to prove you do Come on and cry me a river, cry me a river I cried a river over you
I cried a river over you I cried a river over you I cried a river over you
(Dicen que las chicas que salen haciendo los coros son un pequeño homenaje a RHPS)
Name Your Poison - Richard O'Briend
Mai Tai say that I'm Old-Fashioned Tres vin ordinaire That I want a fresh Manhattan With white Anglo-Saxons everywhere A Black Russian's No Pink Lady Give her the Singapore Sling And Moscow Mule is not your baby So Highball the Vodka and name your sting Be a big shot with a full shot Be a Schwein mit der Wein Have a short or a Port or a snort of any sort Asti spumonte, uno Chianti Are divine!
I got some eager vermicox A Gin And Tonic on the rocks Where angels fear to tread, I say Choose your booze! Let's hit the Red Eye! Think of young Deanna Durbin And how she sung on Rum and Bourbon Or enhance your luncheon hour With a Planter's Punch and a Whiskey Sour If you feel like a wreck try a Horse's Neck Or a Sherry with a cherry in the new fun size
If you don't name your poison I'll have to get the boys in The spirit of adventure opens one's eyes If you don't name your poison I'll have to get the boys in And you'll never see another Tequila Sunrise
Live happily ever after With a Chablis and some laughter Between The Sheets is lovely With a dizzy blonde and a popular bubbly There's nothing sicker in society Than a lack of liquor and sobriety So, down the hatch Here's mud in your eye Take a bracer with a chaser Wash it down with Rye! Bottoms up. Stir a cup. It'll put you in the pink And all you have to do is Drink Drink Drink Drink Driiiink Drink Drink Drink Drink Driiiink Drink Drink Drink Drink Driiiink Drink Drink Drink Drink Driiiink Driiiink, Driiiink
01:10 am: LET THE SHAMAN DOUBT!
Todo el mundo hablando de la llegada del anticristo, y yo sigo con el monotema: me he topado, no sé muy bien por qué vía, con las canciones del Rocky Horror Show del cast noruego, en riguroso noruego (como era de esperar, supongo). Entre carcajadas dementes me las he descargado todas, las he escuchado, y he intentado encontrar las letras sin éxito. Sin embargo, me he apuntado en la wish list de Amazon el cedé en que viene una de éstas (la versión del "Over at the Frankenstein Place") y catorce mil cositas más, y he acabado hallando un parche al problema de no poder cantarla como es debido por aquello de que yo, el noruego, como que lo tengo algo oxidado.
"Many of you have the CD "Rocky Horror International" from 1990. No doubt, you have listened to track #3, "Alltid Lys Hos Frankenstein" and assumed it was in Norwegian. This could not be further from the truth. The lyics are in English, as the following transcription will prove... "
Alltid Lys Hos Frankenstein
JANET: At a deeper market From storing ought Lease her clout Let the shaman doubt Some of them -- uh-oh Foot to eye
CHORUS: Sail on, Cleese Altered as a Frankenstein space Sailing east Lease a big banana - hey Sailing Cleese -- he eats Say now, outlaws So markets he defeats
BRAD: Yes, I flog a fire Fire build a bomb Summer farm They move Aaron -- no... Pedro! Hot post steady For us, too
2ND CHORUS: Got a lease Altered as a Frankenstein space Got a lease He's another hunk of clay Got a lease It is -- sailor Elton So markets he defeats
RIFF-RAFF: Mountain leaves soot Some in flu The man can damage SEND! the kook For the lease it keeps unscrambling Enemy clean Enemy clean
3RD CHORUS: Got a lease Altered as a Frankestein space Got a lease Weezer came the other day Got a lease -- it is Sail on, au pair So markets -- he decrees
PD: Ya, ya sé que también se puede descargar desde la web que he puesto al principio, es por señalarla mejor. Total, es gratis :-P
"It's a little hard to understand because of the strange accents, but it's definitely in English. Yup, the so-called "Norwegian Cast" were actually a group of fun-loving surrealist real estate agents from Boise with a penchant for musical theater. Note the numerous references to leases throughout the song. (Not many know this, but Century 21 is actually a subsidiary of 20th Century Fox.) They were also big Monty Python fans, especially John Cleese, who is mentioned in the song. They also could, apparently, predict the future. Notice the reference to '90s rockers Weezer and Pedro and Aaron from MTV's "The Real World." Other oddities: the reference to Elton John in the second chorus, the fixation on "sailing" throughout, and Riff Raff's obsession with cleanliness (Perhaps he learned this from Magenta?). Oh, by the way, an "au pair" is like a live-in babysitter (a reference to Columbia? Magenta?) and a "shaman" is a priest believed to have magical powers (is this Frank? Scotty?). Perhaps we'll never know the meaning of these strange lyrics."
:-DDDDDDDDDD
Current Mood: crazy
Current Music: En Hip Transvestitt - los noruegos estos
Escúchame, un momento o dos, y confesaré, a vosotros, no puedo evitar mirando las mujeres siniestras, tengo que reconocer, voy a notar la vampiresa mujer.
No es la máscara, ni la falda ajustada, sino el temor causada por su fría mirada.
oh i miss the kiss of treachery the shameless kiss of vanity the soft and the black and the velvety up tight against the side of me and mouth and eyes and heart all bleed and run in thickening streams of greed as bit by bit it starts the need to just let go my party piece
oh i miss the kiss of treachery the aching kiss before i feed the stench of a love for a younger meat and the sound that it makes when it cuts in deep the holding up on bended knees the addiction of duplicities as bit by bit it starts the need to just let go my party piece
but i never said i would stay to the end so i leave you with babies and hoping for frequency screaming like this in the hope of the secrecy screaming me over and over and over i leave you with photographs pictures of trickery stains on the carpet and stains on the scenery songs about happiness murmured in dreams when we both us knew how the ending would be...
so it's all come back round to breaking apart again breaking apart like i'm made up of glass again making it up behind my back again holding my breath for the fear of sleep again holding it up behind my head again cut in deep to the heart of the bone again round and round and round and it's coming apart again over and over and over
now that i know that i'm breaking to pieces i'll pull out my heart and i'll feed it to anyone crying for sympathy crocodiles cry for the love of the crowd and the three cheers from everyone dropping through sky through the glass of the roof through the roof of your mouth through the mouth of your eye through the eye of the needle it's easier for me to get closer to heaven than ever feel whole again
i never said i would stay to the end i knew i would leave you with babies and everything screaming like this in the hole of sincerity screaming me over and over and over i leave you with photographs pictures of trickery stains on the carpet and stains on the memory songs about happiness murmured in dreams when we both of us knew how the end always is
Ne me quitte pas Il faut oublier Tout peut s'oublier Qui s'enfuit deja Oublier le temps Des malentendus Et le temps perdu A savoir comment Oublier ces heures Qui tuaient parfois A coups de pourquoi Le coeur du bonheur Ne me quitte pas
Moi je t'offrirai Des perles de pluie Venues de pays Où il ne pleut pas Je creuserai la terre Jusqu'après ma mort Pour couvrir ton corps D'or et de lumière Je ferai un domaine Où l'amour sera roi Où l'amour sera loi Où tu seras reine Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas Je t'inventerai Des mots insensés Que tu comprendras Je te parlerai De ces amants là Qui ont vu deux fois Leurs coeurs s'embraser Je te racont'rai L'histoire de ce roi Mort de n'avoir pas Pu te rencontrer Ne me quitte pas
On a vu souvent Rejaillir le feu De l'ancien volcan Qu'on croyait trop vieux Il est paraît-il Des terres brûlées Donnant plus de blé Qu'un meilleur avril Et quand vient le soir Pour qu'un ciel flamboie Le rouge et le noir Ne s'épousent-ils pas Ne me quitte pas
Ne me quitte pas Je ne vais plus pleurer Je ne vais plus parler Je me cacherai là À te regarder Danser et sourire Et à t'écouter Chanter et puis rire Laisse-moi devenir L'ombre de ton ombre L'ombre de ta main L'ombre de ton chien Ne me quitte pas
Queridos, queridas, éste es un día triste. Hace cosa de un año que me apunté en una entrada privada fechada en el 2007 el cumpleaños de mi queridísimo Tim (al) Curry, para que no se me volviera a pasar como todos los puñeteros años. Hasta el día 18 inclusive he sido consciente de ello: el 19 hago una entrada, el 19 hago una entrada...
Creo que veis por dónde voy.
En fin, aún así pretendía poner mi felicitación, compartir este hecho con más gente, y quedarme más ancha que larga, pero para variar el universo ha conspirado en mi contra, muere-una-y-mil-veces-Coelho-de-los-cojones, y sólo he podido subir algunas canciones (para celebrarlo tampoco está mal). Espero ir editando esta entrada para que quede algo más completita.
Ahora algunos me diréis, ¿eh? ¿Canciones? ¿Pero qué canciones? Pues para aquellos despistados que no lo sepan, Tim Curry llegó a sacar tres discos (y un recopilatorio con el ingenioso nombre de "The Best of Tim Curry") como cantante antes de darse cuenta de que, ejem, a pesar de lo estupenda que es su voz, eso de cantar imitando a Tom Jones no acababa de ser lo suyo. Aquí os dejo enlaces a algunas de esas canciones, pero advierto: hay que escucharlas con amor, como sólo un fan o una madre pueden hacerlo. Me gustaría decir que a mí me encantan y que me parece terriblemente injusto que no se haya reconocido nunca su grandísimo talento, marginándole no sólo a limitarse a actuar en películas no excesivamente interesantes y doblar dibujos y videojuegos, sino además cortando las alas de lo que podría haber sido un gran cantante... que hoy en día sería lo más en algún casino de Las Vegas...
Edith Sitwell giving readings 14 Moscow Road Osbert's giving champagne parties Sachie's got a cold Gertrude's hanging pictures Alice making tea Me, I do the only thing that still makes sense to me I do the Rock I do the Rock Rock
John and Yoko farming beef raising protein quota Sometimes they make love and art inside their dakota Rodney's feeling sexy Mick is really frightfully bold Me, I do the only thing thatstops me growing old I do the Rock I do the Rock Roch I do the Rock Rock Rock
Well, it's stimulating
Solzhenitzin feels exposed build a barbed-wirde prison Nietsche's six feet underbut his babies still got rythm Einstein's celebrating ten decates but I'm afraid philosophy is just too much responsibility for me I do the Rock I do the Rock
Baby Ruth and Dizzy Dean Best and Colin Cowdrey Little Mo, Virginia Wade Pistol Pete and O.J. I've always like Di Maggio and Rockne's pretty knute - you know I could never wack a ball with such velocity I do the Rock I do the Rock I do the Rock It's stimulating - I'm a keen student
Liz and Dick and Britt and Lisa Jaclyn, Kate and Farah Meg and Roddy, John Travolta Governor Brown and Linda Interwiew and People Magazine Miss Rona and the Queen It must be really frightfull to attract publicity I do the Rock Myself Carter, Begin and Sadat Breznhev, Teng and Castro eyeryday negotiate us closer to desastro Idi Amin and the Shah and Al Fatah is quite bizarre I could never get the hang of ideoligy I do the Rock I do the Rock I do - I do - I do - do the Rock
Sloe Gin
Sloe Gin, sloe Gin Tryin´ to wash away the pain inside Well I´m sick and I´m all done in and I´m standing in the rain and I feel like I´m gonna cry
I´m so fucking lonely and I ain´t even high I´m so fucking lonely and I feel like I´m gonna die
Mayday, mayday I´ve been shot down over the stormy sea Well I swear that I´m drifteing away Just can´t get a grip on me Well..I can´t even try
I´m so fucking lonely and I ain´t even high I hate to go home alone, But what else is new ? I´m so fucking lonely
I hate to go home alone, But what else is new ? I´m so fucking lonely I´m so fucking lonely
You stand and bleeding people pass you by Don´t matter if you live Don´t matter if you die
Sloe Gin, sloe Gin Tryin´ to wash away the pain inside Well I´m sick and I´m all done in and I´m standing in the rain and I fell like I´m gonna cry
I´m so fucking lonely and I ain´t even high
</center></div>
Detalles, detalles, detalles:
- Los tres discos que menciono son "Read My Lips" (1978), "Fearless" (1979), y "Simplicity" (1981). El más interesante en términos de "a ver qué es capaz de hacer este hombre" sería el segundo, puesto que tiene el menor porcentaje de versiones y el mayor de letras escritas por el mismo. - Sus canciones más famosas son "I Do the Rock" y "Paradise Garage", para las que se hicieron sendos videoclips que -naturalmente- estoy intentando conseguir por todos los medios; de hecho ya tengo a las vírgenes atadas y el pentagrama dibujado en el suelo. - Algunas de las versiones que ha perpretado son: "I Will" (original de los Beatles), "Anyone Who Had a Heart" (que no sé de quién es), "I Put a Spell on You" (de mis favoritas de/para toda la vida, qué alegrón me dio), "Summer in the City" (de Joe Cocker Spaniel). - Algunos enlaces recomendados para no dejar de pensar en ello: The Musical World of Rocky Horror, Reseña del "Fearless", Tim Curry Sphere, la cruel Wikipedia (lo digo por la foto), y The Complete Tim Curry. - Frases para la eternidad: "It's good to be a national dish" (es que me ha encantado); mi clásico favorito, "it's so comforting to know that there are so many people out there sicker than I am" (metiéndose con los fans, ay, qué majo :-P); y algo que no acabo de conseguir traducir, "I am a naive suburban fool. But from the looks of it, you wouldn't know I'd spend hours French-polishing my cool." ¿¿¿Que se pasa horas haciendo qué??? - Um, sí, y qué cómo me gusta empezar las casas por el tejado. Feliz cumpleaños, Tim.
EDIT.: He subido algunas canciones más, pero las letras ya las pongo en otro momento...
Current Mood: crazy
Current Music: I Put a Spell on You - TC (¡a ver si mañana puedo subirla!)
Once upon a time you dressed so fine You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you? People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall" You thought they were all kiddin' you You used to laugh about Everybody that was hangin' out Now you don't talk so loud Now you don't seem so proud About having to be scrounging for your next meal.
How does it feel How does it feel To be without a home Like a complete unknown Like a rolling stone?
You've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely But you know you only used to get juiced in it And nobody has ever taught you how to live on the street And now you find out you're gonna have to get used to it You said you'd never compromise With the mystery tramp, but now you realize He's not selling any alibis As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes And ask him do you want to make a deal?
How does it feel How does it feel To be on your own With no direction home Like a complete unknown Like a rolling stone?
You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns When they all come down and did tricks for you You never understood that it ain't no good You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat Ain't it hard when you discover that He really wasn't where it's at After he took from you everything he could steal.
How does it feel How does it feel To be on your own With no direction home Like a complete unknown Like a rolling stone?
Princess on the steeple and all the pretty people They're drinkin', thinkin' that they got it made Exchanging all kinds of precious gifts and things But you'd better lift your diamond ring, you'd better pawn it babe You used to be so amused At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose You're invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal.
How does it feel How does it feel To be on your own With no direction home Like a complete unknown Like a rolling stone?
(Para celebrar que de unas veinte canciones de Secret Garden que se me han descargado hoy tan sólo dos han resultado ser realmente suyas, os dejo ésta por aquí. Como era evidente que no iba a poner You Raise Me Up porque no es el día del padre ni nada similar y Heartstrings se la regalo a Barbra Streissand, al final me he decidido por otra con bastante enjundia: la ganadora de Eurovisión de 1995 :-D Que ustedes la disfruten...)
Nocturne - Secret Garden
La dagen få sin hvile nå og natten vil våke for den, Nocturne. Se mørket må engang forgå så natten kan føde en dag.
Queridos, hállome hoy perdida en un marasmo de fluidos provocados por el miserable y odioso resfriado. No tengo ganas de leer, no tengo ganas de escribir, no tengo ganas ni de seguir viviendo dadas las circunstancias, pero para mi desgracia lo que sí voy a hacer toda la tarde es estudiar. Quéajjjco.
Para los pobriños que os encontréis como yo (y para los demás, también), os planto unas fotos de un wombat, adorable marsupial que pasea su rechoncho cuerpecillo de hamster de metro veinte de largo por las siempre originales tierras australianas.
When a man loves a wombat Can't keep his mind on nothin' else He'd trade the world For a good thing he's found If she is bad, he can't see it She can do no wrong Turn his back on his best friend If he puts her down
When a man loves a wombat Spend his very last dime Trying to hold on to what he needs He'd give up all his comforts And sleep out in the rain If she said that's the way It ought to be
When a man loves a wombatI give you everything I've got (yeah) Trying to hold on To your precious love Baby please don't treat me bad
When a man loves a wombat Deep down in his soul She can bring him such misery If she is playing him for a fool He's the last one to know Loving eyes can never see
Yes when a man loves a wombat I know exactly how he feels 'Cause baby, baby, baby I am a man
Nada más por hoy. Mañana espero estar algo mejor, que encima es el concierto de Depeche y si yo no canto seguro que a Dave se le olvidan las letras, como si lo viera...
Ain't got no home, ain't got no shoes Ain't got no money, ain't got no class Ain't got no skirts, ain't got no sweaters Ain't got no faith, ain't got no beard Ain't got no mind
Ain't got no mother, ain't got no culture Ain't got no friends, ain't got no schooling Ain't got no love, ain't got no name Ain't got no ticket, ain't got no token Ain't got no God
What have I got? Why am I alive anyway? Yeah, what have I got? Nobody can take away
I got my hair, I got my head I got my brains, I got my ears I got my eyes, I got my nose I got my mouth, I got my smile
I got my tongue, I got my chin I got my neck, I got my boobs I got my heart, I got my soul I got my back, I got my sex
I got my arms, I got my hands I got my fingers, Got my legs I got my feet, I got my toes I got my liver, Got my blood
I've got life, I've got my freedom I've got the life
I got a headache, and toothache, And bad times too like you, I got my hair, I got my head I got my brains, I got my ears I got my eyes, I got my nose I got my mouth, I got my smile
I got my tongue, I got my chin I got my neck, I got my boobies I got my heart, I got my soul I got my back, I got my sex
I got my arms, I got my hands I got my fingers, Got my legs I got my feet, I got my toes I got my liver, Got my blood
I've got life, I've got my freedom I've got life, I'm gonna keep it I've got life, I'm gonna keep it
Como estoy algo pachucha (creo que estoy incubando algo) hoy no tengo muchas ganas de sentarme delante del ordenador. Pero aquí os dejo, pensando en esa gente que acabará esta noche cantando -cerveza en mano- canciones de borracho, este tema de Tom "menuda voz de cazallero más genial" Waits:
Innocent When You Dream - Tom Waits
The bats are in the belfry the dew is on the moor where are the arms that held me and pledged her love before and pledged her love before
It's such a sad old feeling the fields are soft and green it's memories that I'm stealing but you're innocent when you dream when you dream you're innocent when you dream
Running through the graveyard we laughed my friends and I we swore we'd be together until the day we died until the day we died
I made a golden promise that we would never part I gave my love a locket and then I broke her heart and then I broke her heart
Por fin el video de "Song to the Siren", de Tim Buckley, grabado para el programa The Monkees, se me ha descargado. Y sabía que era una versión distinta de la que yo conocía (la del Starsailor, el disco), y que la letra era ligeramente diferente, pero aún así... ¡qué impresión!
(¿¿¿Qué clase de plató era ése???)
Long afloat on shipless oceans I did all my best to smile 'Til your singing eyes and fingers Drew me loving to your isle And you sang, "Sail to me, sail to me, let me enfold you: Here I am, here I am, waiting to hold you."
Did I dream you dreamed about me? Were you hare when I was fox? Now my foolish boat is leaning Broken lovelorn on your rocks, For you sing, "Touch me not, touch me not, come back tomorrow: O my heart, O my heart shies from the sorrow."
I am puzzled as the oyster I am troubled at the tide: Should I stand amid your breakers, Or should I lie with Death my bride? Hear me sing, "Swim to me, Swim to me, Let me enfold you: Here I am, Here I am, Waiting to hold you."
Por si no os ha pitado ya la cosa, podéis compararlo con la otra versión, y sentir cómo las pupilas se os dilatan al ver "puzzled as the oyster". Uno puede ser poeta, puede vivir torturado por sus demonios interiores, puede tener una melena que no sólo crece hacia afuera... pero ¿desde cuando lo más notorio de una ostra es estar perpleja?
En fin, que si os apetece descargaros el video, aquí lo tenéis: ¡click! Y de propina, el de Cockteau Twins: ¡clock!
I see a red door and I want it painted black No colors anymore I want them to turn black I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and they're all painted black With flowers and my love both never to come back I see people turn their heads and quickly look away Like a new born baby it just happens ev'ry day
I look inside myself and see my heart is black I see my red door and it has been painted black Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts It's not easy facin' up when your whole world is black
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue I could not foresee this thing happening to you
If I look hard enough into the settin' sun My love will laugh with me before the mornin' comes
I see a red door and I want it painted black No colors anymore I want them to turn black I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
Hmm, hmm, hmm,...
I wanna see it painted, painted black Black as night, black as coal I wanna see the sun blotted out from the sky I wanna see it painted, painted, painted, painted black Yeah!
PD: Esto es un desesperado intento de quitarme de la cabeza la última canción que se me ha pegado ("flores, mariposas, arcoiris, plastilinaaaa..."). Ouch.
04:38 pm: ¿SÍ, ALFILERILLO?
Este es uno de mis juegos favoritos :-) Tomemos una canción al azar, como por ejemplo el dueto "Dammit, Janet" de la banda sonora RHPS. Tomemos ahora un traductor, por ejemplo el de Google.
Esta es, recordemos, la versión original de la canción:
Dammit, Janet
Brad: Hey Janet.
Janet: Yes Brad?
Brad: I've got something to say.
Janet: Uh, huh?
Brad: I really loved the...skillful way You beat the other girls To the bride's bouquet.
Janet: Oh Brad.
Brad: The river was deep but I swam it. (Janet) The future is ours so let's plan it. (Janet) So please, don't tell me to can it. (Janet) I've one thing to say and that's Dammit, Janet I love you.
The road was long but I ran it. (Janet) There's a fire in my heart and you fan it. (Janet) If there's one fool for you then I am it. (Janet) I've one thing to say and that's Dammit, Janet I love you.
Here's a ring to prove that I'm no joker. There's three ways that love can grow. That's good, bad, or mediocre. Oh, J-A-N-E-T I love you so.
Janet: Oh, it's nicer than Betty Monroe had. (Oh Brad) Now we're engaged and I'm so glad (Oh Brad) That you met Mom and you know Dad. (Oh Brad) I've one thing to say and that's Brad, I'm mad, for you too. Oh Brad...
Brad: Oh... dammit.
Janet: I'm mad...
Brad: Oh, Janet.
Janet: For you.
Brad: I love you too.
Brad & Janet: There's one thing left to do - ah - oo.
Brad: And that's go see the man who began it. (Janet) When we met in his science exam - it (Janet) Made me give you the eye and then panic. (Janet) Now I've one thing to say and that's Dammit, Janet, I love you. Dammit, Janet.
On the floating, shipless, oceans I did all my best to smile 'Til your singing eyes and fingers Drew me loving to your isle And you sang, "Sail to me, sail to me, Let me enfold you, Here I am, here I am Waiting to hold you"
Did I dream you dreamed about me? Were you hare when I was fox? Now my foolish boat is leaning Broken lovelorn on your rocks For you sing, "Touch me not, touch me not, come back tomorrow: O my heart, O my heart shies from the sorrow"
I am puzzled as the newborn child I am troubled at the tide: Should I stand amid the breakers? Should I lie with death my bride? Hear me sing, "Swim to me, swim to me, Let me enfold you, Here I am, Here I am, Waiting to hold you"
La versión de This Mortal Coil con Elizabeth Fraser está en la BSO de Mulholland Drive, pero en el disco no aparece...
depressed
sleepy
bored
melancholy
pensive
puf
awake
OK ;-D
contemplative
apathetic
hopeful
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
crazy
¡Tengo frío, Robocop!
beeej
haciendo como que estudio
