Mancava solo la colonna sonora ideale per l'autunno. Qualcosa che si accompagnasse al film che puntualmente, ogni anno, si presenta su quello schermo freddo che è il mio parabrezza appannato: la nebbia immobile sospesa a mezz'aria, le foglioline che scelgono di morire fra un tergicristallo e l'altro, la luce dei lampioni che si gonfia come una fila di crisantemi bianchi. Sempre lo stesso film, ogni anno... ma è uno di quei film che non mi stancherò mai di rivedere. Io gli darei l'Oscar, all'autunno. Un film muto. Ma se l'autunno potesse parlare, penso che avrebbe la voce di Aidan Moffat. Una voce sussurrata e profonda, pigra e malinconica, esattamente come suona in questo "Ultimo Romanzo" degli Arab Strap.
Un album che si discosta dai precedenti: una batteria vera questa volta, non più drum machine, e sonorità più mordenti e meno apatiche, più elettriche e meno elettroniche, mantenendo comunque quell'atmosfera sospesa e dolente che da sempre caratterizza il duo scozzese. Ed Aidan si conferma al solito un narratore d'eccezione, una voce fuori campo che presenta la trama di questo romanzo, fatta di dieci piccoli capitoli. Dieci storie di vita ordinaria ("you know I’ve felt like this before/I know you have felt it too"), di passioni ciniche ("come with me, but this is the last time/understand you’re no more than a pastime"), di rassegnato disincanto ("if there’s no hope for us then there’s no hope for anyone"), di sesso sbrigliato ("come round and love me/sigh and rumble above me/and we’ll make the noises we make/until we both laugh and both shake"). Ma anche - sorpresa - di sogni e speranze ("not everything must end/not every romance must descend/not every lover’s pact decays/not every sad mistake replays").
È questa la colonna sonora che mancava alla scenografia sul mio parabrezza. Entrambe decadenti e torbide, intime e riflessive. Il romanzo ideale per una sceneggiatura di mezza stagione.
Elenco tracce testi e video
01 Stink (02:16)
Burn these sheets that we've just fucked in. My weekend beacon, I've been sucked in. Just one more time and then you'll get tucked in. I think you might still be my best. Come with me 'cause I want a thrill now. It's okay 'cause i'm on the Pill now. We hardly spoke, we just stood around looming, then we slipped away while the party was booming. We've got so good now at just presuming, why won't you let me rest? Come with me now, no-one will miss you. Do what you want, don't expect me to kiss you. It's your skin and your breath and your sweat and greasy hair, the empty cans and makeshift ashtrays everywhere. Strangers waking up in the Monday morning stink - of course I feel sick, but it's not why you think. Come with me, but this is the last time,understand you're no more than a pastime. My sharp exit could not have been quicker, but my excuse could have been a bit slicker. Just be polite now and get down and lick her. I think it's time we both get dressed.
03 Chat in Amsterdam, Winter 2003 (03:19)
If we're having so much fun, how come I'm crying every Monday? Is it just to cancel out the laughter from Thursday 'til Sunday? I spend the next two days in bed and wonder what it's all about, and when I start to feel okay I know it's time to go back out. I've had the same look on my face for the last two lonely years. Twenty-four months of bargain pills, cheeky lines and stolen beers. In all the pictures that I've got, my eyes are so black and wide, and if you look long enough you'll see there's not much life inside. A new host for my heart is what I thought I'd never find but fate, as always, intervened. And now I've got a girl in mind, and I'm meeting her next week when we get back home to Glasgow. That's if we even make it and don't get buried in the Dutch snow. And if my instincts are right, I will fall in love and then we can have a laugh from time to time, but you won't see me there again. When I get home in the morning, Trisha's hosting a debate - If you don't like the fish you're catching then you've got to change the bait.
04 Don't Ask Me to Dance (04:00)
You know I've felt like this before, I know you have felt it too, but maybe I don't want to dance 'cause I've not had as much as you. Our lives did not begin the very moment that we met. I don't want to hold your hand, and there's so much that I'll forget. You're no angel from above, you're the last girl I will love. And maybe I'm not very vocal 'cause I've used the words before, and the more they were repeated, the more they were ignored. But the ears my whispers fell on, they weren't deaf, they were bang on 'cause they knew I didn't mean it, I was trying to hang on, But the world has changed, and how, and I know I mean it now, so let's toast the last romance but just don't ask me to dance.
07 Speed-Date (03:07)
The ugly tattooed swingers euphemise and call their mucky hobby "trysts," but if I saw another man touch you, I'd break his fucking wrists. Monogamy's not natural, we can't survive, that's what he'll say. He loves to swap, he's open-minded, just don't dare suggest he's gay. And maybe we're just lucky, maybe our connection is unique. And if that's really just what normal people do, aren't you proud to be a freak? The so-called Dr. Gray's a billionaire because he's got the sexes sussed. We're a different race, we can't communicate and mind-games are a must. But if you need a man, just buy the book and follow all "The Rules," there's no-one quicker to splash out than vulnerable and desperate, lonely fools. Do you know enough to circle me a "yes"? In just three minutes, can I suitably impress? Why don't we ignore the whistle? Just a look, a smile, a kiss'll tell you all you really need to know. And maybe we're just different. Maybe we're nature's surprise. So put down the book, log off and keep your wallet closed and just look me in the eyes.
08 Dream Sequence (04:15)
Give me your gibberish tonight and talk to me with your eyes shut
Make me giggle in your sleep, and I can dream that you're a slut
And when I wake up stiff, please just feel free to use me
Then go to work and let me wonder what it was that made you choose me
And now I love you more than that, and now I love you more than this
So just stay over on your side, and go to sleep and dream of piss
Tomorrow you can tell me all the things you've done with boys
Blushing as you recount tales to satisfy my see-through ploys
Cause in my nightly dramas, you are still the biggest star
So keep the window open and I can dream we are in the car
And tonight we will be leaving, we can take the scenic route
To a windfarm by the sea while I'm dreaming that you're mute
There's no better journey than me on my way to you
Sitting there all smug, knowing what we might get up to
And one day we'll be idle, and we'll both be past our peak
So until then, all we can do is master a technique
Now let's sleep..
09 Fine Tuning (02:54)
If you take a sock off, then I'll take a sock off. We'll do one for one 'til we're both bare. And with our tongues click-clicking, the big bright clock stops ticking as we make a right mess of your hair. Then we'll make plans for dinner, though my gut's got no thinner since I've been letting you feed it. And you're useless at drinking, but these days I've been thinking I doubt we're going to need it. And if you stop bleeding and we took to breeding, you know our son would be a hit. And as for our daughter, all suitors she'd slaughter with her brains and her beauty and her wit. After the flirting and after the swooning, with nerves put to bed it's all just fine tuning. And we'll never get bored with our routine and pattern when I'm your house-husband and you are my slattern. But one day I might cut loose and I just won't be much use and so you'll push me away - so do your best, and make me pay.
10 There Is No Ending (05:33)
Not everything must end, not every romance must descend, not every lover's pact decays, not every sad mistake replays. If you can love my growing gut, my rotten teeth and greying hair, then I can guarantee I'll do the same as long as can bear. If you love my little poofy hands, my skinny arms and reeking feet, the way I dance, the way I eat. If you love the morning spots I try and squeeze before you're up to see, each torn ankle, each weak knee. But still my moods must swing, to solitude I must still cling, and you won't love me every day, and suffer many a display. But plates may smash and doors may slam, my comments might be less than kind. But that won't mean I've changed my mind. I'm a huffy prick the best of times, I love to sulk and shout and squeal but please don't doubt the way I feel. 'Cause when the sun burns up the earth, our progeny will raise a can, "Here's to where it all began," and every day I hear the world is cracking up, the end is near, I hear we all should live in fear. Bullies, burglars, paedophiles, bird flu and passive smoke, THEY'RE COMING! Volcanoes, earthquakes, tidal waves, heart disease and strokes, THEY'RE COMING! Terrorists with homemade poison, factions everywhere, THEY'RE COMING! They're drinking in the streets, they could steal your name, and I don't care.
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