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"Autoamerican" è il disco più ambizioso della band di New-York, si tratta infatti di un lavoro che fonda le sue fondamenta su di un impasto sonoro molto particolare, non c'è omogeneità tra i brani presenti, ogni canzone ha delle caratteristiche precise, degli arrangiamenti studiati in modo dettagliato e soprattutto l'insieme è curato in modo sorprendente e alla fine il gruppo riesce nell'impresa di dare un senso compiuto allo stile un po'disco e un po' rock che avevano presentato con il precedente "Eat To The Beat".
Molti liquidano la seconda parte di carriera dei Blondie come una semplice virata verso toni più morbidi e ballabili, non si può negare che questo sia avvenuto, ma è il modo con cui vengono prodotti molti brani a lasciare sbalordito l'ascoltatore, l'apertura di "Autoamerican" non è affidata ad una canzone pop di facile presa ma ad un pezzo di Chris Stein decisamente interessante, "Europa" è quasi totalmente strumentale, si basa su di una partitura per archi e ottoni, la melodia è deliziosa, all'ultimo poi si inserisce il gruppo e la Harry recita il testo che parla del ruolo dell'auto nella civiltà moderna. "Europa" si perde poi nelle note iniziali di "Live It Up", scritto ancora dal chitarrista e leader della band, è un brano ballabile molto bello e riuscito, i sintetizzatori di Destri creano effetti particolari che sugellano perfettamente l'andamento disco della canzone. La terza traccia, "Heres Looking At You", è invece una canzone jazzy resa indimenticabile dalla voce di Deborah Harry, il reggae di "The Tide Is High" è il primo singolo estratto dal disco, cover di un vecchio successo, i Blondie lo fanno proprio e diventa presto un loro classico.
Il lato B si apre con una composizione di Destri, "Do The Dark" è un brano molto ballabile con una ritmica dettata in modo precisissimo da Burke e Harrison, il tastierista si concede con i suoi sintetizzatori alcuni assoli molto belli e dalle sonorità arabe; su una ritmica funky si basa il capolavoro dell'album, "Rapture" è un bellissimo esempio di creatività, scritto da Stein e la Harry è ricordato per essere il primo esempio di rap bianco (che in realtà è presente solo nella seconda parte della canzone), da notare il complicatissimo arrangiamento con hand-clapping, un tema per campane tubolari e l'intervento prezioso degli ottoni, chiude poi un assolo di chitarra di Chris Stein. "Faces" è ancora una volta un brano jazzy scritto dalla Harry in cui fa capolino un bel sax, "T-Birds" scitta da Harrison rimanda al primo album del gruppo, chiudono due brani in linea con il resto.
"Autoamerican" è dunque un disco decisamente affascinante, pieno di brani interessanti che possono soddisfare molti cultori della New-Wave; consiglio vivamente l'acquisto insieme al primo, rappresentano un po' gli estremi della loro avventura musicale, che vale la pena conoscere.
Elenco tracce testi e video
01 Europa (03:32)
Based on the desire for total mobility and the serious physical pursuit of religious freedom, the auto drove mankind further than the wheel and, in remote areas even today, is forbidden as a device too suspect for human conveyance. This articulate conception has only brought us all more of the same, thoughtlessly locked into phase two gridlock, keyed up, on it's rims,and abandoned on the expressway.
03 Here's Looking at You (02:58)
As I sit staring into this liquid amber, ripples move out to the edge of the glass.
Is that really your reflection in there?
I just wanna jump into the warm depths and be there with you, one more time!
Oh, alright.
Hit it boys!
My initials sprayed across a pavement cut into your private interview.
Talk to me now.
Step into my room, we'll have a word or two.
If I ever had a million dollars and if I didn't give it all to you would you lose interest?
Show me indifference?
Foot in another shoe?
Not very high heels.
Not wearing sneakers too.
A magazine ad, a printed canvas, a basic new shade blue suede shoe.
Thought I'd like to have a little party.
Thought I'd like to have a little do.
Sure I stopped drinking but for the moment, honey, here's looking at you!
I'll stop my drinking (give you my promise true), clean out the closet, be existential, and cast a vote for the president too.
But for the action of the moment, nothing does what it ought to do.
Instant depression, I learned my lesson, nothing that I'd rather do.
Come on over my place.
Can't see him sideways.
Honey, here's looking at you.
04 The Tide Is High (04:40)
The tide is high but I'm holding on
I'm gonna be your number one
I'm not the kind of girl who gives up just like that
Oh, no
It's not the things you do that tease and wound me bad
But it's the way you do the things you do to me
I'm not the kind of girl who gives up just like that
Oh, no
The tide is high but I'm holding on
I'm gonna be your number one
Number one, number one
Every girl wants you to be her man
But I'll wait my dear 'til it's my turn
I'm not the kind of girl who gives up just like that
Oh, no
The tide is high but I'm holding on
I'm gonna be your number one
Number one, number one
Every girl wants you to be her man
But I'll wait my dear 'til it's my turn
I'm not the kind of girl who gives up just like that
Oh, no
The tide is high but I'm holding on
I'm gonna be your number one
[Repeat and ad lib until fade]
05 Angels on the Balcony (03:36)
Afterglow in a distant world.
The door is open and the lights are cold.
The children come in here and they dare the ghost, like a fire burning in a stove.
Silent light and the feeling's right.
Phantom cigarette and a silent cry.
The door swings open and it's cold outside.
Run and hide, run and hide.
They can still see 'em singing on the corner.
Singing songs that never fade away, fade into the kids that come along.
Memory in a silent sea.
Memory on a long retreat.
Like an angel on a balcony.
Like an angel on a balcony.
07 Do the Dark (03:53)
There you are, giving candy.
Making confidence with an easy eye.
Easy words... oh, what a dancer.
Dance you right into the corner in the fire.
Do the dark apostle.
Do the sidewalk hustle.
Do the invisible dance in the fire, fire, fire, fire.
Walk on glass with the master.
There's no question he can't answer with his eyes.
What a stage, oh what a dancer.
Looks like a baby with an old man's eyes.
When you break the rules and you burn your bridges,
And your fingers itch and they're getting wet when you look at her.
Do the dark apostle.
Do the sidewalk hustle.
Do the invisible dance in the fire, fire, fire, fire.
Walk on glass, walk on fire.
08 Rapture (06:33)
Toe to toe dancing very close
Body breathing almost comatose
Wall to wall people hypnotized
And they're stepping lightly
Hang each night in rapture
Back to back sacroiliac
Spineless movement and a wild attack
Face to face sightless solitude
And it's finger popping
Twenty four hour shopping in rapture
Fab Five Freddy told me everybody's fly
DJ spinning I said "My My"
Flash is fast flash is cool
Francois c'est pas flashe non due
And you don't stop sure shot
Go out to the parking lot
And you get in your car and drive real far
And you drive all night and then you see a light
And it comes right down and it lands on the ground
And out comes the man from Mars
And you try to run but he's got a gun
And he shoots you dead and he eats your head
And then you're in the man from Mars
You go out at night eating cars
You eat Cadillacs Lincolns too
Mercurys and Subaru
And you don't stop
You keep on eating cars
Then when there's no more cars you go out at night
And eat up bars where the people meet
Face to face
Dance cheek to cheek
One to one
Man to man
Dance toe to toe
Don't move too slow 'cause the man from Mars is through with cars
He's eating bars
Yeah wall to wall
Door to door
Hall to hall
He's gonna eat 'em all
Rapture
Be pure
Take a tour through the sewer
Don't strain your brain
Paint a train
You'll be singing in the rain
Said don't stop to the punk rock
Man to man, body muscular
Sismic decibel by the jugular
Wall to wall, tea time technology and a digital ladder
No sign of bad luck in rapture
Well now you see what you wanna be
Just have your party on TV
'Cause the man from Mars won't eat up bars where the TV's on
And now he's gone back up to space where he won't have a hassle with the
human race
And you hip hop
And you don't stop
Just blast off sure shot
Because the man from Mars stopped eating cars
And eating bars
And now he only eats guitars
Get up!
09 Faces (03:51)
Faces cracked for reason beyond recognition.
His space is at the Palace.
He sleeps for twenty five cents.
Now he's wiping headlights, windshields with an old rag.
It ain't nine to five.
Down and dirty, he's an old tramp.
He poses like a dead man.
The night train passes by. Money's not the answer for princes and dancers.
He's standing under street lights.
He's thinking of his old life.
He lost his pretty young wife.
The corner is his big plan.
His brunch with Jim and jitters.
Boston blue laws ain't for shitters.
And newsprint is for cheaters.
Cement mattress for believers.
Now he's shooting power curves.
His buddies think he's got some nerve.
Missus Face had other lovers.
Her arms smothered other numbers.
He freezes.
Christmas season, all Saints protect him.
His face is cracked for reason beyond recognition.
10 T-Birds (03:58)
Circle high, circle low.
Jammers fly, T-birds.
You show, you show, whiplash go.
You show, you show, T-birds. Mighty bird.
T-bird, my mighty bird.
On the dot in the slot, tie the knot.
On the dot timed kisses.
In the slot on the dot, tie the knot.
In the slot, no misses.
Mighty bird.
T-bird, my mighty bird.
T-bird, mighty bird.
Black sun conquerer.
Two thousand years ago... a great race... warriors... lived in... They had many Gods... Mayans... Gods... Mazatlan... (If you can fill in these blanks please email lab@primenet.com)
Black sun worshipper.
Coil it up, wind it out, strike it hot!
Coil it up plumed serpent.
Coil it up, wind it out, strike it hot!
Coil it up, my T-bird.
Serpent curl.
T-bird, rule the world.
T-bird, mighty bird.
Black sun born again.
Oh I love my T-bird, T-bird.
11 Walk Like Me (03:46)
We don't wear that uniform;
paper men from pages torn right off the press (it could be Tass):
suits for the regime.
The media's gone and had a baby.
Seventh wave, another navy.
I live in America: gridlock on the street.
Tell that girl you like her badge.
Tell that man you're the Nazz.
Tell them you're not the last walking in parade.
Dressed to test you up the road.
Tighter than the latest clothes.
Close the circle, walk in row, walking in parade.
Why don't you walk like me?
Walk like me?
Walk like me?
Carrying the standard stick and marrying the politik.
You won't know tomorrow what went down today.
Look at me; I'm in tune: references around my room.
Just another secret school, another cycle going by.
You never looked like that.
Don't look like me.
Don't take it back.
You never had a name like that, never had a color.
Walking like a millionaire.
walking on imported air.
Change the way you comb your hair and watch what you walk under.
Why don't you walk like me?
Walk like me?
Walk like me?
Walk like me?
12 Follow Me (03:00)
Far from day, far from night, out of time, out of sight, in between earth and sea, we shall fly.
Follow me.
Dry the rain, warm the snow where winds never go.
Follow me.
Follow me to a cave by a sapphire shore where we'll walk through an emerald door, and for thousands of breathless "evermore"s my life you will be.
Only you.
Only I.
World farewell.
World goodbye.
To our home 'neath the sea we shall fly.
Follow me.
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