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Il cambio di paradigma arriva a volte come un calcio nei coglioni, a volte piano piano come un'idea che ti nasce in sogno.
Sarà che sono arrivato a quell'età in cui capisco finalmente cosa voleva dire Bob con “I was so much older then I'm younger than that now” solo recentemente, sarà che il tempo passa e uno comincia ad avere la paura di non stare spremendo come si deve quella pesca raggrinzita che chiamiamo vita, sarà che son sempre stato un bambino noioso (no non è vero, lo dico solo come licenza poetica) ma fino a poco tempo fa proprio non capivo come uno che di nome fa Jeffry Lee Pierce e che ha cantato amore e morte dalla palude potesse essere stato il presidente dello US Blondie's Fun Club.
No perché, sarà stato lo strascico della cultura noiosamente e sterilmente impegnata degli anni '70, ma si faceva una grande attenzione a distinguere la così detta musica seria da quella così detta del disimpegno; e quando dico “si faceva” in pratica dico “facevo” perché fino almeno ai quattordici anni (in cui ho conosciuto i primi integralisti del metal) delle altre conoscenze con cui potere discutere di musica e dischi non è che pullulassero nel mio paesotto di provincia.
Ma tutti i grandi sistemi vengono messi in crisi dalle incognite non facilmente catalogabili e i Blondie sono senz'altro uno di questi casi.
Paladini della New Wave e grandissimi amici di tutto il giro leggendario del CBGB sono stati quelli che hanno riscosso sicuramente più successo nazional popolare di tutti grazie al loro fare sbarazzino, all'essere degli ottimi scrittori di canzoni, dei musicisti più che discreti e all'indimenticabile immagine di Debbie Harry.
Si può perdonare a un ragazzino in piena scoperta pre-adolescenzale lo snobismo che accantonava i Blondie nel mucchio del disimpegno a causa della loro immagine patinata e dei loro ritornelli orecchiabili, colpevoli di non apparire lugubri, cervellotici, tristi e facilmente assimilabili e godibili pure dall'amico più ignorante della cumpa?
Sì, si può perdonare perché la ricerca di una propria identità ,come tutti sappiamo, spesso ci porta a rigettare quello che è accettato e imposto dalla massa.
Ma si può continuare a credere che questo snobismo possa ancora continuare a permeare una persona più adulta, la quale si presuppone che abbia compiuto il suo viaggio di formazione e che oramai dolce e beata, al riparo di qualsiasi strale, regni sul suo presente con la sua solida e cazzuta personalità?
Difficilmente.
Come è noto mi trovo nella spiacevole situazione di dovere tornare sui miei passi e riconsiderare qualche mia vetusta opinione su cosa sia serio e cosa sia disimpegno, situazione però che già mi preannuncia (come una sensazione per ora, ma che sarà sempre più pesante da ignorare) come questa stessa distinzione sia una colossale cagata.
Superata perciò questa distinzione cosa può rimanere? Il bersi tutto beato e contento senza più nessuno spirito critico? Il calare i pantaloni alla cultura del disimpegno? Il divenire finalmente gaudente di un presente immaginifico e speciale?
Ma non sarà che il liberarsi di questo peso del dovere schierarsi, l'accettare finalmente la realtà senza la perenne sfida del confronto, il raggiungere una mia propria quadratura del cerchio mi spinga poi lontano dal mondo dell'arte e della musica stessa, verso le calde braccia della vita che non ha bisogno di surrogati per essere capita e interiorizzata?
Beh questo non lo so e sinceramente poco mi frega ma spero proprio che questa nuova maturità abbia le fattezze di Debbie, la sua imperfetta bellezza, il suo modo strampalato di cantare in playback, i suoi capelli biondi solo sul davanti, i suoi vestitini rosa shock e il grande divertimento che regala vederla esibirsi.
A proposito del disco: appena prima del clamore, appena prima dell'affermazione, appena prima del cambiamento e della maturità (chiamiamola così dai) artistica. A mio modo di vedere il modo migliore per conoscere e godere questa fantastica band.
Elenco tracce testi samples e video
01 Fan Mail (02:42)
I set my hand to writing you... it drifted off the page.
I sold my one vision for a piece of the cake... I haven't ate in days.
For unspoken value, aesthetic, and charm, I'd smile at you sideways,
But the lighting is wrong.
I'm taking a picture, and counting the cost, while the bells in my ears keep ringing.
I set my hand to writing you... it drifted of the page.
I nearly fell, I feel like a lowlife in hell and I haven't slept in days and days, days and days...
Beat on my Fender through my Gemini 2, play to the posters on the wall of my room.
Thought I was crazy when I'd think about you... And the bells in my ears keep ringing.
And the bells in my ears keep ringing.
In my ear bells are ringing.
02 Denis (02:21)
Oh Denis ooh-be-do, I'm in love with you
Denis, ooh-be-do, I'm in love with you
Denis, ooh-be-do, I'm in love with you
Denis, Denis oh with your eyes so blue
Denis, Denis, I've got a crush on you
Denis, Denis, I'm so in love with you
Oh when we walk it always feels so nice
And when we talk it seems like paradise
Denis, Denis, I'm so in love with you
You're my king and I'm in heaven every time I look at you
When you smile it's like a dream
And I'm so lucky, 'cause I found a boy like you
Denis, Denis, avec tes yeux si bleus
Denis, Denis, Quand j'ai peche' pour deux
Denis, Denis, Pour un baiser d'eternite'
Denis, Denis, Je suis folle de toi
Denis, Denis, Embrasse moi ce soir
Denis, Denis, Pour un baiser d'eternite
Oh Denis, ooh-be-do, I'm in love with you
Denis, ooh-be-do, I'm in love with you
Denis, ooh-be-do, I'm in love with you
04 Youth Nabbed as Sniper (03:06)
Don't look in here, yeah.
Sundown finds him out of town on the overpass,
his inner self glued to his .22.
Dirty metal in the speed of night, lights and broken glass.
My heart can destroy all I see.
Moving streets all make me lonely!
Come to me and be mine only.
I can hide us far from sight, but you must wait and I must fight this nothingness.
Walls, I see my little room...
I hear my parent's friends.
I hope that my actions make amends!
I would like to kill for love but I don't know how...
Here I lie so high above the crowd.
Busy streets all make me lonely!
Come to me and be mine only.
I can move us through the night, but you must wait and I must fight this emptiness.
Black top burns with silent screams.
Others stop my dreams.
Lightning Crash! Crash! Crash!
Fear causes some to live, others die real cool.
I died in the evening after school.
Be mine only.
Be my own.
Be mine only.
Be my own.
05 Contact in Red Square (02:04)
1 2 3 4
Although I'm young I got a job to do.
Hid the microfilm in the lining of my shoe.
Call it a business trip.
Got to hide inside my trenchcoat and be clever .
I got my papers and a cyanide pill.
My polaroid's a taser in disguise.
There's a base in the hills, and the wheat fields looks like Kansas in November.
Astrovia, sweet comrade, your nation is your gun.
Your love reads like the broken code you sent me.
One last contact in red square, unless I have to run and the long arms of the K.G.B. detect me.
Can't trust a soul, secret messenger, just the rules that lie like circuits in your brain and a cool .45.
The wind is ice and foreign air tastes strange.
I.C.B.M.
Bang! Bang! You're dead!
No one left to worry.
Kiss me quick, now I have to hurry.
Our last contact in red square, unless I have to run and the long arms of the C.I.A. detect me.
Hey!
Hey! Hey!
08 I Didn't Have the Nerve to Say No (02:57)
You got ants in your pants.
I don't understand.
I don't trust the flick of your eyes.
You're a viper and love's a fever.
You said something profane and went for a vein but in spite of your "delicate touch", I should have known as much: I'm a bleeder.
I didn't have the nerve to say no.
I didn't have the nerve to say no.
You caught me surprised and my will resigned.
Torture the minds of them all.
You're a brain drain, you'd better beat it.
I'm following lines.
The blind leads the blind.
So hang me or grant me a stay.
You better cut me loose or hand me a noose.
There's no end to the problem of a bad situation.
Complication.
No, no, no, no, ah.
There's no end to the problem and frustration.
I need a vacation.
No, no, no, no, ah.
And I know I couldn't.
And I know that I couldn't say no.
10 No Imagination (03:00)
Eyes that tell me "baby, you don't need no invitation".
Let me smoke another cigarette before I make a move.
I can see me in the morning; losing my direction, deep inside my overcoat, looking for the door.
I don't wanna stay with you.
I just wanna play with you.
One sweet abbreviation sleeping like the dead.
You think you're pretty, well, so do I.
You came to me but, passion eyes, got no imagination to clutter up my head.
Eyes that mirror innocence and cannot sense the changes.
Lets have another drink, dear, before we get deranged.
I can see me in the morning; avoiding your detection, slowly down the staircase, looking for the door.
All is fair in love and war but I don't want your love no more.
One sweet abbreviation sleeping like the dead.
You're fragile and you're very green, conditioned by a milk machine.
Got no imagination.
Got no imagination.
No.
Take a walk, kid.
Eyes that tell me "baby, you don't need no invitation".
Let me smoke another cigarette before I make a move.
I can see me in the morning; losing my direction, deep inside my overcoat, footsteps for the door.
11 Kidnapper (02:42)
Uh hey! You've got an unnerving face and twitching eyes like Norman Bates.
You got a cigarette, eye on a mirror.
Farm boy brown gas station sweeper.
You took that girl, you put the saddle on her.
Just thirteen, she's her daddy's apple, and she don't know you're the kidnapper, uh-huh.
Uh hey! Your daddy's Whiskey Sam.
He's got bloodshot eyes like Ray Milland.
Playin' solitaire, your mother fidgets.
You wanna be rich but you won't dig ditches.
She bitches like a brat.
She got the money.
People breaking their necks and she thinks it's funny.
Where's your old man now?
Nobody's home, uh-huh.
Kidnapper.
Uh hey! They call you Skinny Jim and nobody knows the boat you're in.
They dipped your tail when you were back in school.
Well, you're a real strange cake but your nobody's fool.
So you took that girl and you put the saddle on her.
Just thirteen.
She's fresh out of diapers and she don't know your the kidnapper, uh-huh.
12 Detroit 442 (02:30)
You know he can't be tested.
He can't be read or found.
Urban gray takes breath away.
He wants to push his pedal to the ground.
And the night's what's right.
Puts him at the wheel.
Well, I eat danger.
Any stranger is all right.
Feel hot to go like Jimmy O.
Dodging flying objects at the show.
And the lights make me fight.
In Detroit 442...
Maybe, baby, I could ride with you.
This town's a concrete factory and dad and mom look just like me.
I'm on the plant assembly line.
Too late now.
Too far behind!
You said you wanna hang around.
No one really cares where you go.
Take your time.
Things never change.
In Detroit 442 maybe baby I could ride with you.
One more to market, one more piggie, and they all, they all look just like me, yeah.
13 Cautious Lip (04:26)
All the way down do it.
Another way down.
Why, yeah.
What do you know huh?
I seen you skip that cautious lip.
Now tell me this through that cautious lip.
You can be bit as I make you it.
I seen you skip that cautious lip.
A chance you'll fit that cautious lip.
It's just these things, not really gifts.
It's just these things, not really gifts.
I seen you skip that cautious lip.
I seen you skip that cautious lip, but never miss my bouncing hips.
A girl so sweet.
A love so strong.
I seen you skip, I see you tip.
You can be bit as I make you it.
I seen you skip that cautious lip.
Ah I seen you skip that cautious lip.
Ah.
Cautious lip cautious lip.
You can be bit.
I'll make you it.
I seen you skip.
Cautious lip.
Change your fit.
Skip of the lip.
Oh oh not really get.
Skip lip oh oh arggghhhhh ah ah!
Whats going on?
No way.
Carico i commenti... con calma
