Pese al parón navideño, me gustaría seguir manteniendo mi costumbre de recomendación para el fin de semana. Sinceramente, tengo muchas recomendaciones y ninguna a la vez. Había pensado hacer un listado de pelis indispensables para ver en estas fechas, pero me dio pereza hacer semejante ejercicio a estas horas de la mañana (es la 1.12 a.m.)
Después pensé en una de estas pelis en concreto, pero me gustaría dedicarle un post como se merece.
Y finalmente, acudí a la música.
Una vez al año Antonio se reúne con sus hermanos y parejas. La Nochebuena, salvo celebraciones familiares tipo bodas, comuniones, etc. es la única noche del año en la que coinciden todos (son 7 hermanos).
Quedamos el pasado 21 de diciembre. Ese día estuve desde la mañana tarareando una canción de Sinéad O’Connor.
Conocí a Sinéad O’Connor con «Nothing compares to you» y confieso que ésa es la canción de reclamo, pero no la mejor del «I do not want what I haven’t got». Descubrí que el disco y las letras tenían mucho que decir.
El pasado 21 de diciembre decidí volver a darle una escucha rápida en el coche y, aunque ha envejecido, mantiene parte de su encanto.
El disco lo abre un poema irlandés del siglo XVII. Te invito a escuchar el disco y, si puedes, a hacerte con las letras. A mí especialmente me gusta la letra de «Black Boys on Mopeds».
Margareth Thatcher on TV
Shocked by the deaths that took place in Beijing
It seems strange that she should be offended
The same orders are given by her
I’ve said this before now
You said I was childish and you’ll say it now
«Remember what I told you
If they hated me they will hate you»
England’s not the mythical land of Madame George and roses
It’s the home of police who kill black boys on mopeds
And I love my boy and that’s why I’m leaving
I don’t want him to be aware that there’s
Any such thing as grieving
Young mother down at Smithfield
5 am, looking for food for her kids
In her arms she holds three cold babies
And the first word that they learned was «please»
These are dangerous days
To say what you feel is to dig your own grave
«Remember what I told you
If you were of the world they would love you»
England’s not the mythical land of Madame George and roses
It’s the home of police who kill blacks boys on mopeds
And I love my boy and that’s why I’m leaving
I don’t want him to be aware that there’s
Any such thing as grieving.
O estribillos como el de «You cause as much sorrow»:
Why can’t you just leave it be?
You’ve done nothing so far but destroy my life
You cause as much sorrow dead
As you did when you were alive
O esas sensación de vacío tras una ruptura como en
«The Last Day Of Our Acquaintance»
This is the last day of our acquaintance
I will meet you later in somebody’s office
I’ll talk but you won’t listen to me
I know what your answer will be
I know you don’t love me anymore
You used to hold my hand when the plane took off
Two years ago there just seemed so much more
And I don’t know what happened to our love
Today’s the day
Our friendship has been stale
And we will meet later to finalize the details
Two years ago the seed was planted
And since then you have taken me for granted
But this is the last day of our acquaintance
I will meet you later in somebody’s office
I’ll talk but you won’t listen to me
I know your answer already
But this is the last day of our acquaintance
I will meet you later in somebody’s office
I’ll talk but you won’t listen to me
I know your answer already
I know your answer already
I know your answer already
La canción que os dejo hoy, no obstante, es la que me pasé tarareando aquel 21 de diciembre. Se llama Jump in the river y me gusta el estribillo. Se podría decir que no tarareaba otra cosa.
El vídeo es un despropósito, pero os lo pego igualmente.
Feliz fin de semana
The phone calls
Always left me unsure
They’d never say things of their own accord
I am preoccupied
I can’t get them out of my mind
They are terrified
And if you said jump in the river I would
Because it would probably be a good idea
You’re not supposed to be here at all now
It’s all been a gorgeous mistake
Sick one or clean one
The best one
That God ever made
When I kissed you
You didn’t mind
I thought I tasted of too many cigarettes
But you tasted like wine
And I’m not going to change my mind
Just because of what they said
The worm has laid eggs in their hearts
But not in my head
And if you said jump in the river I would
Because it would probably be a good idea
You’re not supposed to be here at all now
It’s all been a gorgeous mistake
Sick one or clean one
The best one
That God ever made
There’s been days like this before you know
And I liked it all
Like the times we did it so hard
There was blood on the wall
And if you said jump in the river I would
Because it would probably be a good idea
And if you said jump in the river I would
Because it would probably be a good idea
tumpitula 