• Voto:
Prendo il disco dalla mensola e mi tuffo. Un tuffo nel passato. Mi ricordo che la copertina mi ha sempre fatto schifo, che tutto l'artwork mi ha sempre fatto schifo. Mi torna in mente un'intervista in cui dicevano che nel 1996 facevano tour senza esser mai pagati ed io, quando ripenso a quelle frasi, ripenso sempre alla stessa cosa: "okei, la benzina la rubavano, ma sono fortunati che in America non ci sono i caselli. Quelli non li freghi? un momento, ma ci sono i caselli in America?" Brutto vizio lasciar terminare i pensieri con una domanda.
Tutto in diretta, suoni sporchi e tanta di quell'attitudine da abbattere un rinoceronte al primo colpo. Vengono da El Paso - gran cesso di città dicono loro, io non dubito - e gli At the Drive-In del 1996 ce li si può immaginare come dei semplici ventenni privi di quei capelli ridicoli che portano in giro oggi e che, intenti ad attaccare gli strumenti agli amplificatori, fregandosene abbondantemente di tecniche di registrazione sopraffine, di arpe, pianoforti, trombe e quant'altro, si limitano a suonare forti e veloci dicendo alla svelta quello che hanno da dire e togliendosi, altrettanto alla svelta, dalle palle.
Gli At the Drive-In del 1996 suonavano un post-Hardcore mischiato con quello che molti si ostinano a chiamare Emo-core - parola che non hanno mai gradito se riferita alla loro musica. Un miscuglio ben riuscito e personale tra Fugazi e Cap'n Jazz, prendendo i ritmi dei primi e le melodie e quel senso di assalto emotivo dei secondi.
Acrobatic Tenement, uscito per la Flipside, racconta degli At the Drive-In spontanei e genuini, privi degli intrecci chitarristici che caratterizzeranno il suono dei dischi successivi - Rodriguez era arrivato da troppo poco per imporsi -, presi in mezzo tra la catarsi in solitaria e la voglia di andare a vedere se a qualcun altro può interessare qualcosa di loro. Me li immagino stipati in un furgone bianco, Cedric con la schiena poggiata contro la grancassa per ore e ore.
Era il 2001 o il 2002. Andavo a scuola attraversando due chilometri di campi di erbacce per evitarne almeno altri due di asfalto. Ci andavo con il mio walkman attaccato alla cintura, Relationship of Command, doppiato dal cd, che girava e rigirava, avvolgendosi su sè stesso. Gli At the Drive-In erano già sciolti. Il caffè mi ha sempre fatto schifo; ci si sveglia in molti modi.
Elenco tracce e testi
01 Star Slight (01:18)
Sailing all alone
Guided by star light
Nowhere is my home
inside my mind
We've paid that shoeshine boy
whose buff has no smile
He spits on your tip toes
and you keep bragging folklore
like it's out of style
out of focus
Harum scarum
we promote this
cover discover
You know your insides true
Better then I do
This is starslight.
02 Schaffino (02:49)
This time I'm gonna take the collection baby
And with the money in my hand
I'm gonna purchase all the details
Scrub you clean with my soap opera chirping
Walking on tip-toed pickpocket fever
Racing up the scales of your thermometer
Turnbuckle tournicate clotting the moonshine
Clotheslined seizures singing happy valentines
I'm singing, happy, a valen-, happy valentine yeah
I found feathers in the hit and run nest
Omerttas not a prayer on your rosary beads
I found feathers in the hit and run nest
When she knocked me over
I looked inside the hearse
Sprouting chauvanistic swine
And written were the words
Poking butter with this knife
Allergic to this concubine
Racing by in a '56 chevy
And we couldn't even pretend
To be alive... x6
I found feathers in the hit and run nest
Scrub you clean with my soap opera chirping
i found feathers at the. hit and, run
04 Initiation (03:27)
I-N-I-T-I, A-T-I-O-N
follow you home after every show
perforated into tiny fragments
heavy breathing's your new fan club
a john handcock with the safety off after every show
and how this pedestal fits like a glove
such a pity I built no ladder
for the roots, and above
i'll be hacking off, after every show
(I-N-I-T-I-A-T-I-O-N)
initiation,
x3
(what---)
whatcha doin,
There's no restraining order to keep me from you
parting contestants never win
(Initiation, what---)
Watcha doin,
There's no restraing order, keep me from you
Parting contestants never seem to win
Watch you clap your hands by the stage
Lend me your ears, just another page
In the book that your friend signed yesterday
When I told you not to bother to holler
the telephone's the one that helped
me wrap - the chord
around - your neck
you know - you're beautiful
when you're dead
(I-N-I-T-I-A-T-I-O-N)
initiation,
x3
(what---)
whatcha doin,
There's no restraining order to keep me from you
(Initiation, what---)
Watcha doin,
There's no restraing order, keep me from you
Parting contestants never seem to win
07 Paid Vacation Time (03:34)
So we see the opportunities
Stich and thread
with no down payments
our neighbors see it through their
own eyes so that the others hear
the story, the grapevine
dot your i's, cross your t's
this forfeitures the burden of another
and all those friends you thought you had
are laughing at and not with you
and all those friends you thought you knew
you'd trade it all for a tank full of fuel
bel aire colonial deluxe number five
all the warmth that a boy can give
sheepskin costume
i'm a truant officer
08 Ticklish (04:35)
pigeon holed decision making
all my mind's made up
i only colored outside the lines
'cause i got the knack
stenciled teen initials
that were carved on the roof of my mouth
only to bark the words of so-and-so
fuck so-and-so...
i been dancing in the bathroom stalls
excreting words just for this song
i'm kicking in windows
and it don't make music to me
"please get some medication
simple. it's simple...
we must die with dignity."
pallbearer we are and all that
we never get and all my little pushes
fall on your
deaf
ears
kicking in these windows
kicking in these windows
it's on the roof of my mouth
i'm gonna bark the words
on the roof of my mouth
tickling with contusions
paper bag masks hiding infantile music
no pictures, just words
are you afraid of our books?
illiterate cells for the valley of mules
11 Porfirio Diaz (03:01)
kiss and kill your boyfriend
and all rich ones, too
rich kids of the world unite
dime on the bleachers
head says not that far away
bu the only way up is down
and I keep falling
flip it again, but the answer
hasn't spared its change
doesn't matter how much time
you'll never forget that forgetting's required
served on a platter of fakes
it's inevitable
we're proud to be pricks
we're proud to be assholes
picking up the pieces one by one
don't let it ride
answer, someone, anyone
won't you pick up the pieces
you left behind?
Carico i commenti... con calma
