Molti lo chiamerebbero masochismo ma io non credo che sia così. Semplicemente in questo periodo non ce la faccio proprio ad ascoltare musica allegra, utilizzandola come un pennarello atto a coprire quello che c'è sotto. Vederlo sgretolarsi settimana dopo settimana in ospedale è una cosa atroce; questo stato di cose mi spalma addosso un velo di tristezza che cerco di scaricare in vario modo. Qualche aperitivo e qualche serata non manca ma la sensazione preponderante è quella di ascoltare un disco graffiato; la melodia che si interrompe in continuazione. E allora prendo le cuffie e corro fino a quando non diventa buio.

Se un bambino vede qualcosa di anomalo, si avvicina e tenta di toccare con mano ciò che non comprende. Apre la mano e si avvicina a quella gamba che dovrebbe esserci e che invece pare si sia nascosta chissà dove. È solo con la forza e la costanza di quei continui rimproveri da parte dei genitori che con il tempo impariamo a dissimulare l'attrazione, l'interesse per il diverso, tramutandolo nell'arte del far finta di niente, del nascondere la polvere sotto il tappeto. 
Con sempre maggior frequenza sto facendo la conoscenza del reparto di oncologia della mia città; ci sono bambini che con candore chiedono perché il loro parente sia dimagrito tanto e non abbia più i suoi capelli. Taluni prendono gli angoli della bocca del nonno o della madre e glieli tirano in su per formare un sorriso; quello che è in ferie da diversi mesi. Sono disarmanti e strappano gioia perché con quella sincerità li fanno sentire ancora delle persone vere e non solo degli oggetti da commiserare piangendo. Un visitatore impiega qualche giorno per ambientarsi e capire che dietro a quella diversità, a quel dolore mostruoso, c'è bellezza.

Beautiful Freak.

Dopo un paio di album solisti pubblicati ad inizio anni '90, Mark Oliver Everett, molto più semplicemente E., pubblica il primo disco con gli Eels. È un cd che può scorrere tranquillo in macchina, l'ho conosciuto così qualche mese addietro, come placido sottofondo mentre si discorre del più e del meno; strumenti e voce non sono mai eccessivi, sovente sussurrano ed in taluni casi pare stiano bussando delicatamente con le nocche chiedendo “posso disturbare?”

Ascoltare “Beautiful Freak” in siffatta maniera sarebbe tuttavia ben poco cortese da parte vostra. La copertina, nel caso aveste il cd originale come me, ci fa subito capire che è un lavoro molto intrigante con una bambina che gattona e che ci scannerizza con degli occhi spropositatamente grandi. Siamo attratti da quelle palline da tennis ma poi chiniamo la testa facendo finta non averle viste perché ci mettono quasi in imbarazzo. Un piccolo mostro di una tenerezza disarmante che con le sue dodici canzoni ci conquisterà senza nemmeno troppi sforzi.

Fossi un esperto direi che la musica degli Eels appartiene al genere indie rock e che si rifà ad artisti come Cake e Beck, con chitarre alquanto morbide anche nei pezzi più ritmati come “Novocaine for the Soul”. Chiudo gli occhi e mi lascio cullare da una dolce malinconia che dura una quarantina di minuti e nella quale tutto è grigio pur essendo pregno di dolcezza (“Susan's House”). Sono tracce di breve durata nelle quali la produzione del suono pare essere volutamente ovattata come se volesse far invecchiare il prodotto di qualche decade (low-fi). Intro come quelli di “Rags to Rags” riescono materializzare la fine caduta di una pioggia sferzata dal vento che da qualche mese alberga costantemente per qualche ora nel mio quotidiano. Un lamento, ora elettronico (“Mental”) ora più graffiante, prende le sembianze di una chitarra distorta (“My Beloved Monster”). Questa musica mi si attorciglia addosso con pochi elementi ben distinti in ogni singolo pezzo che si differenzia dal precedente. È un disco da ascoltare senza interruzioni, scevro di cali e che riesce a portarmi alla memoria ricordi di rara dolcezza come se quella musica ci fosse legata da anni. La voce di E. sa essere ruvida (“Rags to Rags”) oppure una carezza (“Monchild”) ed i testi semplici e per nulla accomodanti sono un valore aggiunto.

Splendida malinconia sotto forma di musica.

Elenco tracce testi samples e video

01   Novocaine for the Soul (03:08)

Life is hard, and so am I
You'd better give me something, so I don't die
Novocaine for the soul
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out

Life is white and I am black
Jesus and his lawyer are coming back
Oh my darling, will you be here
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out

Guess who's living here, with the great undead
This paint-by-numbers life is fucking with my head
Once again

Life is good and I feel great
'Cause mother says I was a great mistake
Novocaine for the soul
You'd better give me something to fill the hole
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out

02   Susan's House (03:43)

Goin' over to susan's house
Walking south down baxter street
Nothin hidin' behind this picket fence
There's a crazy old woman smashing bottles
on the sidewalk where her house burnt down 2 years ago
people say back then she really wasn't that crazy

goin' over to susan's house
goin' over to susans house
i can't be alone tonight

down by the donut prince a 15 year old boy
lies on the sidewalk with a bullet in his forehead
in a final act of indignity the paramedics take off all his clothes
for the whole world to see while they put him in the bag
meanwhile an old couple argues inside the queen bee
the sick flourescent light shimmering on their skin

goin over to susan's house
goin over to susan's house
she's gonna make it right

take a left down echo park
a kid asked do i want some crack
tv sets are spewing baywatch
through the windows into black

here comes a girl with long brown hair
who cant be more than 17
she sucks on a red popsicle
while she pushes a baby girl in a pink carriage
and im thinking that must be her sister
that must be her sister right?
they go into the 7-eleven
and i keep walking
and i keep walking

goin over to susan's house
goin over to susan's house
i can't be alone to night
goin over to susan's house

03   Rags to Rags (03:53)

There's a spider crawling
On the bathroom mirror
Right on top of my right eye
And I can't stop staring back
How did I get this way?
Take a big look at a living lie

Rags to rags and rust to rust
How do you stand when you've been crushed?
So rags to riches was a bust

Sometimes I dream about it
What it's like back home
The railroad tracks and the pussy willow
But I had to leave it
And I go back
Whenever my tired head hits the pillow

Rags to rags and rust to rust
How do you stand when you've been crushed
So rags to riches was a bust

Busted once again
But I'll show them one day
That I can buy and sell the world

And one day I'll come through
My American dream
But it won't mean a fuckin' thing

Rags to rags and rust to rust
How do you stand when you've been crushed?
So rags to rags and rust to rust
Don't let me go
Rags to rags and rust to rust
Don't let me go
Rags to rags and rust to rust
Don't let me go

04   Beautiful Freak (03:34)

05   Not Ready Yet (04:46)

06   My Beloved Monster (02:13)

My beloved monster and me
We go everywhere together
Wearing a raincoat that has four sleeves
Gets us through all kinds of weather

She will always be the only thing
That comes between me and the awful sting
That comes from livin' in a a world that's so damn mean

My beloving monster she's tough
If she wants she will disrobe you
But if you lay her down for a kiss
Her little heart it could explode

She will always be the only thing
That comes between me and the awful sting
That comes from livin' in a world that's so damn mean

La la la la la la la la
La la la la la la

07   Flower (03:38)

Turn the ugly light off, God
Wanna feel the night
Every day it shines down on me
Don't you think that I see
Don't you think that I see
What it's all about

Hard to look the other way
While the world passes me by
And everyone is trying to bum me out

It's a pretty big world, God
And I am awful small
Every day they rain down on me
Flower in a hailstorm
Flower in a hailstorm
I'm livin' for the drought

I could throw it back at them
But then I'd play their game
Everyone is trying to bum me out

When I came into this world they slapped me
And every day since then I'm slapped again
Tomorrow's king, an unsightly coward
You see, I know I'm gonna win

Turn the ugly light off, God
Don't wanna see my face
Every day it will betray me
Don't you think that I know
Don't you think that I know
What they're talking about

If they step on me tonight
they're gonna pay someday
Everyone is trying to bum me out

Mmmmmmmm
Mmmmmmmmmmm

08   Guest List (03:13)

Are you one of the beautiful people?
Is my name on the list?
Wanna be of the beautiful people
Wanna feel like I'm missed

Hey you, with the walkie-talkie
I know my clothes are not right
I wish I had my own walkie-talkie
That reached to god every night

Everyone needs to be somebody
Everyone needs to find someone who cares
But I don't know if you know what I mean cause I'm
Never on your list

Are you one of the beautiful people?
Am I on the wrong track?
Sometimes it feels like I'm made of egg shell
It feels like I'm gonna crack

Everyone needs to be somebody
Everyone needs to find someone who cares
But I don't know if you know what I mean 'cause I'm
Never on your list

I'm never on your list
I'm never on your list

09   Mental (04:01)

10   Spunky (03:11)

Spunky don't like her uniform
It never fit so good
Goin' back to the orphanage
And the place where her garage once stood

Well it's a free for all
free for all
free for all
It's a free for all
You and me
And if you don't like what they're telling you
You can't teach a blind man to see
Well I can see

Spunky looks good in her bright red wig
Eating chocolate-chip mint ice cream
A cat named Lola with a violent past
Is balled up asleep 'cross her knees

And it's a free for all
Free for all
Free for all
It's a free for all
You and me
One day the world will be ready for you
And wonder how they didn't see

Spunky knows she can save the world
In her own little way
Turning in her old uniform
'Cause you know, it really didn't pay

'Cause it's a free for all
Free for all
Free for all
It's a free for all
You and me
I walk through the world with your name on my tongue
And your picture etched on my screen

11   Your Lucky Day in Hell (04:28)

Mama gripped onto the milkman's hand
And then she finally gave birth
Years go by, still I don't know
Who shall inherit this earth
And no one will know my name until it's on the stone

This could be your lucky day... in hell
Never know who it might be at your doorbell
This could be your lucky day... in hell... in hell

Waking up with an ugly face
Winston Churchill in drag
Looking for new maternal embrace
Another tired old gag
Am I just a walking bag of chewed up dust and bones?

This could be your lucky day... in hell
Never know who it might be at your doorbell
This could be your lucky day... in hell... in hell

Father Theresa, you can't make me into you
I never wanna be like you
Why can't you see, it's me
You know it's time to let me go

This could be your lucky day... in hell
Never know who it might be at your doorbell
This could be your lucky day... in hell... in hell... in hell...
This could be your lucky day... in hell
Never know who it might be at your door bell... in hell
This could be your lucky day... in hell... in hell... in hell... in hell...

12   Manchild (04:05)

and every time you crave for me i'm, here
and anything you hunger for i'll share
and i will be quietly standing by
while slowly i am dying inside

hold me in your arms
and let me be the one who can feel
like i am a child in love

every time i talk to you you're down
and every time you need a laugh i'm around
and when you forget i'm here i'm not
it isn't really me that you forgot

hold me in your arms
and let me be the one who can feel
like i am a child in love

whisper now
and tell me how you'll watch me
and tell me somehow i'm gonna be alright

Carico i commenti...  con calma

Altre recensioni

Di  Castaldo

 Sei così un bellissimo mostro... uno scherzo della natura... mi piacerebbe che ce ne fossero di più come te.

 Forse è meglio che io vada via... ma all’improvviso si calma e ritorna al pianoforte con la sua voce roca...