BE HUMAN

Video

I analyze and I verify and I quantify enough,
100 percentile no errors no miss.
I synchronize and I specialize and I classify so much.
Don’t worry ‘bout dreaming because I don’t sleep.

I wish I could at least 30 percent,
Maybe 50 for pleasure then skip all the rest.

If I only was more human
I would count every single second the rest of my life.
If I just could be more human
I’d have so many little babies and maybe a wife.

I’d roll around in mud and have lots of fun then when I was done
Build bubblebath towers and swim in the tub.
Sand Castles on the beach, frolick in the sea, get a broken knee;
Be scared of the dark and I’d sing out of key.

Curse when I lost a fight, kiss and reunite, scratch a spider’s bite;
Be happy with wrinkles I got when I smile.
Pet kittens ‘till they purred, maybe keep a bird, always keep my word.
I’d cry at sad movies and laugh ‘till it hurt.

I’d buy a big bike, I’d ride by the lake
And I’d have lots of friends and I’d stay out too late.

If I could just be more human
I would see every little thing with a gleam in my eye.
If only I was more human
I’d embrace every single feeling that came in my life.

Would I care and be forgiving?
Would I be sentimental and would I feel loneliness?

Would I doubt and have misgivings?
Would I cause someone sorrow too? Would I know what to do?

Will I cry when its all over?

When I die will I see Heaven?

Yoko Kanno, be Human (con Scott Matthew alla voce), da be Human, ost di Ghost in the shell – Stand alone complex

Annunci

BY THIS RIVER

Video

Here we are,
stuck by this river;
you and I
underneath a sky that’s ever falling down, down, down…
Ever falling down.

Through the day,
as if on an ocean,
waiting here
always failing to remember why we came, came, came:
I wonder why we came.

You talk to me
as if from a distance,
and I reply
with impressions chosen from another time, time, time.
From another time.

Brian Eno, By this river, da Before and after science

C’È QUALCOSA DA CAPIRE

Video

L’ultimo prete inca, avvicinando la morte,
radunò attorno a sé i pochi superstiti.
Le mani quasi giunte,
su un arbusto mai visto sedeva accovacciato sulla terra.
«Imparerete a amarla in pace e in guerra.»
«Imparerete a amarla in pace e in guerra.»
«Imparerete a amarla in pace e in guerra.»

Grigie pietre le strade lastricate,
grigie pietre le case inutilmente fortificate.
Fessure i volti bruni di sole,
sole tra tessuti sgargianti di colore.
«È vostra questa pianta, dono del creatore.
A lui salga la lode, voi che pagate crudele salvatore.
Voi che pagate crudele salvatore.»

E gli occhi suoi già stanchi prendevano commiato
velando con lo sguardo
le mille meraviglie del creato,
le mille meraviglie del creato.
«In alto trasparente, denso, il cielo immobile, vicino.
In basso umide nuvole,
rumore di foresta lontano, lontano, lontano.
Renderà sopportate fame, fatica, orrore;
le vostre sofferenze allevierà, amate creature.
Vi terrà compagnia quando sarete soli di necessità.
Per ultimo – non ultimo – li polverizzerà.
Per ultimo – non ultimo – li polverizzerà.
Per ultimo – non ultimo – li polverizzerà.
Li polverizzerà. Li polverizzerà.»

Se ne presero cura devota, silenziosa:
impotente difesa, masticata preghiera.
Nei secoli fedeli, senza speranza, qualche parola stanca.
Un prete, un dono, una divinazione…
Qualcuno, senza merito, ne canta la canzone.
Qualcuno, senza merito, ne canta la canzone.
Ne canta la canzone. Ne canta la canzone.

Non si sa mai: c’è qualcosa da capire,
per quanto il senso sia difficile da dire,
difficile da dire, per quanto il senso sia,
c’è qualcosa da capire, non si sa mai.
Non si sa mai: c’è qualcosa da capire,
per quanto il senso sia difficile da dire,
difficile da dire, per quanto il senso sia,
c’è qualcosa da capire, non si sa mai.

Impotente difesa, masticata preghiera;
rende sopportate fame, fatica, orrore;
le sofferenze allevia, amate creature;
tiene al caldo chi è solo di necessità.
Per ultimo – non ultimo – li polverizzerà.
Per ultimo – non ultimo – li polverizzerà.
Per ultimo – non ultimo – li polverizzerà.
Li polverizzerà. Li polverizzerà.

Non si sa mai: c’è qualcosa da capire,
per quanto il senso sia difficile da dire,
difficile da dire, per quanto il senso sia,
c’è qualcosa da capire, non si sa mai.
Non si sa mai: c’è qualcosa da capire,
per quanto il senso sia difficile da dire,
difficile da dire, per quanto il senso sia,
c’è qualcosa da capire, non si sa mai.

Impotente difesa, masticata preghiera;
rende sopportate fame, fatica, orrore;
le sofferenze allevia, amate creature;
tiene al caldo chi è solo di necessità.
Per ultimo – non ultimo – li polverizzerà.
Per ultimo – non ultimo – li polverizzerà.
Per ultimo – non ultimo – li polverizzerà.
Per ultimo – non ultimo – li polverizzerà.
Li poverizzerà. Li polverizzerà.
Li poverizzerà. Li polverizzerà.

C.S.I., Polvere, da Noi non ci saremo vol. 2

A ME NON TORNA NIENTE, NIENTE TORNA MAI

Video

Le dita a sfiorare il contatto ritratte,
i passi in cadenza che possiede il suolo, lui solo.
Batte e ribatte, solido, compatto, denso corpo sonoro.
La pelle che s’apre al respiro, nei pori gli umori.
La pelle che impara l’odore, diventa sapore, emana calore.
Carne e sangue, carne e sangue, che si possa guardare,
che si possa toccare, che si possa plasmare.

A me non torna niente , niente torna mai.
A me non torna niente, niente torna mai.
Non torna niente mai.
Non torna niente mai,
mai, mai.
Non torna niente mai.

In basso è come in alto e fuori è come dentro, a lato come al centro.
In basso è come in alto e fuori è come dentro, a lato come al centro.

Fermo fase apparente, solo un movimento, solo un mutamento.
(Ora lo sai.)

A me non torna niente , niente torna mai.
A me non torna niente, niente torna mai.
Non torna niente mai.
Non torna niente mai,
mai, mai.
Non torna niente mai,

che si possa guardare, che si possa toccare, che si possa plasmare,
che ci si può fermare…

A me non torna niente , niente torna mai.
A me non torna niente, niente torna mai.
Non torna niente mai.
Non torna niente mai.

C.S.I., Non torna, da Noi non ci saremo vol. 2

FRED JONES, UN GIORNALISTA

Video

Fred sits alone at his desk in the dark
There’s an awkward young shadow that waits in the hall
He’s cleared all his things and he’s put them in boxes
Things that remind him: ‘Life has been good’
Twenty-five years

He’s worked at the paper
A man’s here to take him downstairs
And I’m sorry, Mr. Jones
It’s time
There was no party, there were no songs

‘Cause today’s just a day like the day that he started
No one is left here that knows his first name
And life barrels on like a runaway train
Where the passengers change
They don’t change anything

You get off; someone else can get on
And I’m sorry, Mr. Jones
It’s time
Streetlight shines through the shades
Casting lines on the floor, and lines on his face

He reflects on the day
Fred gets his paints out and goes to the basement
Projecting some slides onto a plain white
Canvas and traces it
Fills in the spaces

He turns off the slides, and it doesn’t look right
Yeah, and all of these bastards
Have taken his place
He’s forgotten but not yet gone

And I’m sorry, Mr. Jones
And I’m sorry, Mr. Jones
And I’m sorry, Mr. Jones

It’s time

Ben Folds, Fred Jones Pt. 2, da Rockin’ the Suburbs

SE LOU CHIAMA ANDY

Citazione

Andy, it’s me, haven’t seen you in a while
I wished I talked to you more when you were alive
I thought you were self-assured when you acted shy
Hello it’s me

I really miss you, I really miss your mind
I haven’t heard ideas like that in such a long, long time
I loved to watch you draw and watch you paint
But when I saw you last, I turned away

When Billy Name was sick and locked up in his room
You asked me for some speed, I though it was for you
I’m sorry that I doubted your good heart
Things always seem to end before they start

Hello it’s me, that was a great gallery show
Your cow wallpaper and your floating silver pillows
I wish I paid more attention when they laughed at you
Hello it’s me

Pop goes pop artist, the headline said
Is shooting a put-on, is Warhol really dead
You get less time for stealing a car
I remember thinking as I heard my own record in a bar

They really hated you, now all that’s changed
But I have some resentments that can never be unmade
You hit me where it hurt I didn’t laugh
Your diaries are not a worthy epitaph

Oh well, now Andy, guess we’ve got to go
I wish some way somehow you like this little show
I know it’s late in coming but it’s the only way I know
Hello it’s me

Goodnight, Andy
Goodbye, Andy

Lou Reed & John Cale, Hello it’s me, da Songs for Drella

Andy Warhol (Pittsburgh, 6 agosto 1928 – New York, 22 febbraio 1987)

Andy Warhol (Pittsburgh, 6 agosto 1928 – New York, 22 febbraio 1987)

UNDERTOW

Video

The curtains are drawn
Now the fire warms the room.
Meanwhile outside
Wind from the north-east chills the air,
It will soon be snowing out there.

And some there are
Cold, they prepare for a sleepless night.
Maybe this will be their last fight.

But we’re safe in each other’s embrace,
All fears go out as I look on your face –

Better think awhile
Or I may never think again.
If this were the last day of your life, my friend,
Tell me, what do you think you would do then?

Stand up to the blow that fate has struck upon you,
Make the most of all you still have coming to you,
Lay down on the ground and let the tears run from you,
Crying to the grass and trees and heaven finally on your knees

Let me live again, let life come find me wanting.
Spring must strike again against the shield of winter.
Let me feel once more the arms of love surround me,
Telling me the danger’s past, I need not feel the icy blast again.

Laughter, music and perfume linger here
And there, and there,
Wine flows from flask to glass and mouth,
As it soothes, confusing our doubts.

And soon we feel,
Why do a single thing to-day,
There’s tomorrow sure as I’m here.

So the days they turn into years
And still no tomorrow appears.

Better think awhile
Or I may never think again.
If this were the last day of your life, my friend,
Tell me, what do you think you would do then?

Stand up to the blow that fate has struck upon you,
Make the most of all you still have coming to you,
Lay down on the ground and let the tears run from you,
Crying to the grass and trees and heaven finally on your knees

Let me live again, let life come find me wanting.
Spring must strike again against the shield of winter.
Let me feel once more the arms of love surround me,
Telling me the danger’s past, I need not feel the icy blast again.

Genesis, da ...And Then There Were Three…

To all of you, friends, even and if.

RIPPLES

Video

Bluegirls come in every size
Some are wise and some otherwise,
They got pretty blue eyes.
For an hour a man may change
For an hour her face looks strange –
Looks strange, looks strange.

Marching to the promised land
Where the honey flows and takes you by the hand,
Pulls you down on your knees,
While youre down a pool appears.
The face in the water looks up,
And she shakes her head as if to say
That its the last time youll look like today.

Sail away, away
Ripples never come back.
Gone to the other side.
Sail away, away.

The face that launched a thousand ships
Is sinking fast, that happens you know,
The water gets below.
Seems not very long ago
Lovelier she was than any that I know.

Angels never know its time
To close the book and gracefully decline,
The song has found a tale.
My, what a jealous pool is she.
The face in the water looks up
She shakes her head as if to say
That the bluegirls have all gone away.

Sail away, away
Ripples never come back.
Theyve gone to the other side.
Look into the pool,
Ripples never come back,
Dive to the bottom and go to the top
To see where they have gone
Oh, theyve gone to the other side…

Sail away, away
Ripples never come back.
Gone to the other side.
Look into the pool,
The ripples never come back, come back,
Dive to the bottom and go to the top
To see where they have gone
Theyve gone to the other side
Ripples never come back
Sail away, away…

Genesis, da A trick of the tail