• Voto:
Essendo stato inserito da pochi giorni nell'elenco dei recensori non potevo esimermi dallo scrivere qualche riga appassionata a favore di uno dei miei gruppi preferiti (che danno forma anche al mio Nickname...) degli ultimi anni. Il quartetto di New York ha raggiunto con quest'album l'apice della propria capacità musicale ed artistica (magari mi smentiranno col prossimo lavoro, lo spero...). I Les Savy Fav sono il classico gruppo cresciuto sui ripetuti ascolti della scena washingtoniana (Dischord Docet) che cerca però, completando il processo di maturazione, di allontanare per esplorare terreni più "Pop" (pur mantenendo nei testi una certa matrice di protesta propria della scena di Washington D.C.).
Il risultato è quest’album di sicuro impatto emotivo che coglie i quattro ragazzi di Brooklyn in uno stato di grazia compositivo. “Trajic Monsters” felicemente sospesa tra Pixies e Fugazi apre le danze e “Crawling Can Be Beautiful” è proprio un brano dall’andatura Disco-Punk specie per quel raddoppio di batteria elettronica, lo stesso dicasi per la successiva “Disco Drive” che con quei cori femminili e per il suono della chitarra ricorda ancora i brani più giocosamente Pop del quartetto di Boston (non finiremo mai di dire quanto grande sia stata la loro influenza sull’Underground tutto). Il dialogo tra batteria e Synth in cui s’inserisce un basso roboante, all’inizio di “The Slip”, completa con gli altri già citati la triade danzabile di “Go Forth”; in quest’inedita veste i Les Savy Fav raggiungono i risultati migliori, in alcuni passaggi di splendore disarmante.
Alcuni brani successivi incedono forse troppo nell’autoindulgenza: quante volte abbiamo sentito gli arpeggi di “Adoption” o il giro di basso iniziale di “No Sleeves” ? Non per questo i pezzi sono insipidi anzi, gli echi New-Wave (certi Talking Heads) proprio in “No Sleeves” danno letteralmente le ali alla canzone che diventa forse l’inno più trascinante di quest’album. La voce di Tim Harrington non sopporta a dovere le scansioni della finale “Bloom On Demand” ed è un vero peccato perché il pezzo meritava una migliore interpretazione vocale dato che musicalmente era davvero un colpo al cuore sospeso tra devoluzione e folletti bostoniani (ancora…) con Synth monastico nel finale. E' in uscita in questi giorni una raccolta di 7" intitolata "Inches", pensate sia il caso di perderla ?
Elenco tracce testi samples e video
01 Tragic Monsters (03:12)
What we don't know can fill a truck
What we don't know cannot hurt us
Well, is that so?
We're hard to destruct
Well, is that so?
Why do we get crushed?
Prepare the isolation chamber
I'm going in
And all the people there will wonder
"Can we go with him?"
Tell me now you're only kidding
When you say "We'll pass away"
Tell me now this yarn we're spinning
Doesn't end on judgement day
All tragic monsters are crying for themselves
In attics and in basements
In cages and prison cells
Wishing that the citizen's myth they could dispel
Until you see the faces
In the limestone on the pipe
Don't tell the tragic monsters what loneliness is like
And is there any wonder
That some misfits lose their mind?
Left to fumble asunder
In the world deaf, dumb, and blind
And can they sense our justice
When they commit their crime?
How can they abide our justice?
They're already doing time
What we don't know (x7)
Can't hurt us yet
02 Reprobate's Resumé (03:14)
Blessed be the doctor
Blessed be the nurse.
Blessed be the coachman
who put me in the hearse.
Blessed be the blessings and
blessed be the curse.
Rattled from the sediment
old bones around the settlement.
Tell who passed out the medicine
the dose was much too strong.
He goes to bed bereft and berated
and rests his head in the hands of
the over rated.
Sweating bullets in the faculty lounge,
sensing treason they're not waiting around;
On the first bus out of the town
they're playing movies that they've already seen.
The jewelry advances as the gums recede,
the devil goes out dancing on the angels preceived needs,
Please go easy on me.
Cheap sex with a dicount broker-
Cop's walkie-talkie squawks breaker-breaker.
"We got to take her down to the station
she says that that broker broke her off."
Read the text at the ticker tape parade-
The subtext is that someone's getting paid off.
Check the checks at the ticker tape parade-
pay stubs of the people who've been laid off.
Insurance can't cover what the world exposed-
Open nerves.
Touching toes to stretch,
the A.C. made us retch.
Can you conceive of
working for the
emperor's new clothes?
Please go easy on me.
04 Disco Drive (04:09)
Look-look-looking in the pink
While living in the red
Pissing in the sink-sink-sink
Too drunk to find the head
Beg-beg-begging for the black
Make me rich or make me dead
I want a little pick me up
So I won't stumble down tonight
Considering staying alive
Hitchhiking on the Disco Drive
Sometimes jobs turn to vacations
but always I must earn
Waiting for standing ovations
For filing my tax returns
Searching for zippers
but finding only seams
The seamstress for strippers
Must suspects my dirty peeking schemes*
I want a little pick me up
So I wont stumble down tonight
Considering staying alive
Wish I could only Disco Drive
A man can only do his best
I’m skipping steps and I’m taking breaths
Hold your horses, cool your jets
You can’t make me be finished yet
Don’t trust the poets, they want to get paid
They’re playing their trade to the art of getting laid
Don’t trust the prophets, their visions are fudged
They’re buying our houses while selling us floods
The hours will get you
The owls will get you
When I was a swear word
The hours we shot-gunned
The hours will get you
The hours will get you
The owls will get you
The hours will get you
10 No Sleeves (04:07)
the singer of the band
has been encased
in a circuit board formed
from arsenic and old lace.
the piano has been dropped
a c-note hits the cop
so he would turn away
while we're cleaning up the slop.
this is the bishop's finger
this is the bishop's hand
onto Jesus' body
the people place demands.
they're pointing with their pistols
while we're reaching for the sky
the soundtrack of their lives
is an eye for an eye...
hail hail the talk show
cocked after cocktails
i lied and i lied...
god save the techno
the sequencers dont know
when it died, when it died...
edison put the gun in our hands
the black bear put
the muzzle to its muzzle.
the dogwood didnt care
but the maple was troubled.
trademark, this is a trademark
this move was trademarked in 1883.
Carico i commenti... con calma
