• Voto:
Ecco, l'e-mail di conferma registrazione è arrivata.. "adesso faccio parte anch'io del club di debaser" penso con soddisfazione. Clicco, giro, sbircio qua e là per le recensioni e... cosa? No, non è possibile, ci dev'essere un errore! Niente sui mitici Bauhaus? Nessuno conosce questo mitico gruppo? Niente su "In the flat field", disco seminale ed epocale, pietra miliare assoluta del gotico e della dark wave? Niente sulle emozioni profonde e sull'angoscia claustrofobica che questo album continua a suscitare a distanza di venticinque anni, rendendocelo ancora straordinariamente moderno ed attuale nonostante sia del 1980? Niente sulla prima traccia, splendida, "Double Dare", praticamente un manifesto del dark con il riff d'apertura inquietante e sinistro che sfocia in un battito ossessivo e marziale? Niente sulla title track, in cui le urla di Peter Murphy si fanno disperate e al tempo stesso maestose? Niente sulla successiva "God In An Alcove", quasi goliardica nel suo ritornello da stadio e affascinante grazie alla robotica voce del leader? E niente appunto su questo straordinario singer, Peter Murphy appunto, capace di spaziare con una dsarmante facilità dal puro dark delle tre track summenzionate al rockabilly puro di "Dive"?
Poi viene quello che è a parere del sottoscritto il capolavoro dell'intero disco: "Spy In The Cab"... fantastica, unica nel suo gelido dischiudersi a qualsiasi forma di comunicazione verso l'esterno. È claustrofobia pura, angoscia al cubo, senso di disperazione rarefatta! Merita da sola l'acquisto del cd!
Poi vengono le meno felici "Small Talk Stinks" e "St. Vitus Dance" che in ogni caso hanno il merito , semmai ce ne fosse bisogno, di confermare le doti di Murphy, vero protagonista di tutta l'opera. Arrivati a questo punto si assiste all'autentico rito sacrificale di "Stigmata Martyr", pezzo del quale un amante del gotico fatica a non innamorarsi: l'incedere incalzante e ossessivo del ritmo prima, il maccheronico latino pronunciato da Murphy dopo e le lancinanti grida di chiusura creano un mix irresistibile, un vero brano di culto.
Quella che chiude l'album, "Nerves" è una traccia ipnotica, che sembra non finire mai, quasi a ricordarci della musica senza fine di questa band, la quale purtroppo non ha mai riscosso un grande successo nel nostro paese (ancora oggi è molto complicato procurarsi questo capolavoro, al sottoscritto è toccato scaricarselo!) ma che ha senza dubbio una delle pagine più esaltanti della storia del rock in generale.
Elenco tracce testi samples e video
01 Double Dare (04:52)
I dare you, to be real
To touch a flickering flame
The pangs of dark delight
Don't cower in night fright
Don't back away just yet
From destinations set
I dare you to be proud
To dare to shout aloud
For convictions that you feel
Like sound from bells to peal
I dare you to speak of your despise
For bureaucracy, hypocracy- all liars
I dare
I dare
I dare- you- you
02 In the Flat Field (04:39)
A gut pull drag on me
Into the casm gaping we
Mirrors multy reflecting this
Between spunk stained sheet
And odourous whim
Calme eye-flick-shudder within
Assist me to walk away in sin
Where is the string that Theseus laid
Find me out this labyrinth place.
I do get bored, I get bored
In the flat field.
I get bored, I do get bored
In the flat field
Yin and yang lumber punch
Go taste a tart, then eat my lunch
And force my slender thin and lean
In this solemn place of fill wetting dreams
Of black matted lace of pregnant cows
As life maps out onto my brow
The card is lowered in index turn
Into my filing cabinet hemispheres spurn.
I do get bored, I get bored
In the flat field.
I get bored, I do get bored
In the flat field
Let me catch the slit of light
For a maidens sake
On a maiden flight
In the flat field I do get bored
Replace with Piccadilly whores
In my yearn for some cerebral fix
Transfer me to that solid plain
Hammer me into blazen pain
Moulding shapes no shame to waste
Moulding shapes no shame to waste
And drag me there with deafening haste.
04 Dive (02:10)
We're going down
We're going down
We're going down
To the kamikaze dive
Pussy Galore
Fishnet leatherette
Psuedo sumo wrestler
Dangerous dances
The dragons claw
On the door
K-Tel oriental
The monkey's paw.
You're a dead ringer for Madame Butterfly
You're so necromantic
Stitch my thigh
Mixing molotov cocktails
Snappy little fingers
Venomous and vain
In the subterrain
We're going down to the kamikazi dive
Like insects in a Chinese lantern now
We're feeling so alive, what's showing?
We're going down to the kamikazi dive.
We're feeling so alive, what's showingLike manic moths in Chinese lanterns now
05 The Spy in the Cab (04:27)
Hidden in the dashboard
The unseen mechanized eye
Under surveillance
The road is full of cats eyes
It's sick function to pry
The spy in the cab
Coldly observing- callously reserving
A drivers time
Automated autonomy
Playing on his mind
The spy in the cab
The spy in the cab
An eye for an eye
A spy for an eye
An eye for an eye
A spy for a spy
A twenty-four hour unblinking watch
Installed to pry
Installed to cop
The spy in the cab
The spy in the cab
The spy in the cab
I spy with my little eye spy with my little I spy with my
Little eye spy with my little I spy... spy... spy
06 Small Talk Stinks (03:32)
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
See the young man in his new gown
Small talk stinks
Talking up to his bouffant drag
Something that he's never had
He says he loves you with flowers
A sentence should be like a serpent
Quick with a sting in its tail
String me a line that has meaning and depth
There's no small talk with walky talkies
Small talk stinks.
I said it stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks.
You whisper sweet nothings chit-chat-back-chat
There's no idle gossip in braille
Taking combs three times an day
Twice an hour
Indentikit cute lips from wall to wall
See the young man in his new gown
Stand in line for the photo call
Talking up to his bouffant drag
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinks
Small talk stinksSmall talk stinks
08 Stigmata Martyr (03:39)
In a crucifiction ecstasy
Lying cross chequed in agony
Stigmata bleed continuously
Holes in head, hands, feet, and weep for me
Stigmata oh you sordid sight
Stigmata in your splintered plight
Look into your crimson orifice
In holy remembrance
In scarlet bliss
In nomine patri et filii et spiriti sanctum
In nomine patri et filii et spiriti sanctum
In nomine patri et filii et spiriti sanctum
In nomine patri et filii et spiriti sanctum
Father, son, and holy ghost
Stigmata Martyr
09 Nerves (07:01)
Nerve ends tick in flicker book animation
One eye's closed in fear, anticipation
Will it stay shut? Will it ever open?
What if?
What if?
Nerves.
Tell tale tongues lick at seven senses
Brittle spittle sparks you are defenceless
The fabric of dreams is ripped apart
Nerves.
As you feel the twist of the shadowed dagger
In your pumping heart
Nerves like nylon, Nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, Nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, Nerves like steel
Sense of serenity is shattered in the glint of splintered glass.
A trail of random cutlery cuts a dash in the concrete underpass
Nerves.
Nerves.
Nerves.
Nerves like nylon, Nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, Nerves like steel
Nerves like nylon, Nerves like steel
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