• Voto:
"Sono stanco di disegnare in bianco e nero/la mia penna è asciutta, ora sono alle strette/Così stanco di limitarmi per adattarmi alla tua deinizione"
Calabasas, Los Angeles, Usa. Ci troviamo nella West Coast, in una città che fu incorporata a Los Angeles nel 1991. Si snoda tra le colline a ovest della San Fernando Valley e le montagne a nord-ovest di Santa Monica. Oggi viene considerata una piccola Hollywood residenziale dove si trovano le ville dei vip. Proprio nel ’91 nasce qui uno dei gruppi più interessanti della scena crossover/alternative metal/ nü metal dell’epoca. Aprendo lo Yearbook 1991 dell’High School di Calabasas lo riconosci subito: schizofrenico cool boy statunitense orfano di padre un po’ surfista, un po’ skater, un fan accanito dei Faith No More e dei suoi due tutori illegali chiamati Korn e Deftones; a seconda del suo mood (è un ragazzo instabile) il nostro teen butta giù versi serratissimi e fa murales di fronte all’oceano, fa scratch-battle con gli amici, ma non gli basta perché è un curioso: vuole sapere di più della musica, è un grande appassionato e ha il cuore a mille, si infila nelle pieghe del jazz e ne riutilizza gli accenti a suo piacimento, perché il presente è tutto ciò che ha ed è la sua grande risorsa; fa parecchio incazzare anche, ai più non piace, perché non ha principi, non segue le lezioni e i programmi, non concepisce gli schemi, non rispetta, segue il flusso perché impara dall’oceano e dalle onde: non sempre c’è quella perfetta, ma quando arriva, bisogna farsi trovare pronti, no matter what. È l’ "incubo" dei professori, nessuno sa cosa dirgli, nessuno riesce a fargli capire le ragioni per cui bisogna stare attenti, seguire le regole, studiare dal passato, attenersene, non mancare mai di rispetto a quelli più grandi, a quelli che sono venuti prima. Ed ecco qui, che poi ti viene un infarto a starci dietro a questo ragazzo, ti chiedi come faccia a non riposarsi un secondo, ti chiedi come faccia a spingersi sempre oltre il limite creativo, come faccia a giustificare accostamenti che mai prima d’ora erano stati fatti per il semplice fatto che a farli è stato lui; è ostico nella sua audacia, ma meraviglioso, e non ci sono definizioni che tengano perché nessuna di esse basterebbe. Ti chiedi come faccia, e lo invidi, sì, lo invidi di brutto. Allora cerchi di capire, ti siedi, ascolti tutto quello che ha da dire una, due, tre volte, fino alla fine, pensi di aver capito questa volta. E finalmente arrivi all’ultima cosa, quella che non avevi proprio afferrato, è l’ultima traccia dell’album e si chiama Segue 1. Dura più di 10 minuti. Va bene puoi farcela, il jazz lo conosci e lo riconosci, c’è un andamento shuffle, il club è in chiusura, si abbassano le luci e il ragazzo fiducioso ti chiede: ”Capito adesso?”. Ma la tua risposta sarà sempre “Sinceramente no ma ti prego, continua”, e non importa quante volte te lo rispiegherà, tu comunque non riuscirai a stargli dietro e per questo non lo mollerai un secondo, entrerai in fissa. Jesse in "Breaking Bad" parlava così della testa di uno che sta sotto metanfetamine: si scava, convinti che alla fine si arriva a qualcosa, ma in realtà non smetterai manco arrivato al magma. Il punto è digging. E qui si digga una cifra. Sei fomentatissimo, vuoi riascoltare di nuovo tutto e capire qual è il segreto di tanto zelo, vuoi andare a un concerto di questo eclettismo disinibito che sono gli Incubus di S.C.I.E.N.C.E., 1997. Lo vuoi, perché è divertente, è stimolante, è geniale, è senza limiti, è creativo, è forte, è ribelle, è geniale, è energico, è fresco.
Una cascata di fomento viscerale che ti pulsa dentro in ogni traccia e a ogni traccia si evolve, scava sempre più. Redifine, Vitamin, Calgone, New Skin, spiazzante Summer Romance( Anti-gravity love song), oh god Nebula, no aspetta ma poi c’è il funk di Deep Inside, che è fighissima. Non si può andare per ordine quando si parla di S.C.I.E.N.C.E., qui non si sta trattando di un album qualunque, qua stiamo parlando di un album incredibile di un gruppo dalle grandissime qualità tecniche musicali, talenti creativi senza limiti di sorta, dei mostri sostanzialmente capaci di mischiare hip hop, rap, funk, punk, metal, rock reggae, jazz, elettronica, plus una sezione ritmica eccezionale, che ti fa accapponare la pelle. L’illimitato sta alla base della loro fortissima identità che si strugge per 13 tracce per farti arrivare alla fine del disco scoraggiato e demolito nel tuo razionale tentativo di dare sempre un nome alle cose. Nietzsche la chiama violenza del logos, della parola che definisce, conclude, recinta, limita, che quindi per forza di cose è foriera di significati omessi.
"High school boy, ti amo. Non cambiare mai” gli dico.
Lui poi cambierà.
Elenco tracce testi samples e video
01 Redefine (03:20)
Imagine your brain as a canister filled with ink,
yeah, now think of your body as the pen where the ink resides.
Fuse the two; KAPOW! What are you now?
You're the human magic marker, won't you please surprise my eyes?!
It's in your nature, you paint whatever picture you like.
no matter what Ted Koppel says on channel 4 tonight.
So modify this third rock from the sun,
by painting myraids of pictures with the colours of the one.
CHORUS (x2)
I'm sick of painting it black and white
my pen is dry, now I'm uptight
So sick of limiting myself to fit your definition.
Picture the scene, where whatever you thought,
would, in the blink of an eye, manifest and become illustrated.
You'd be sure man that every line drawn reflected a life that you loved
not an existence that you hated.
So, must we demonstrate that we can't get it straight?
We've painted a picture, now we're drowning in the paint.
Let's figure out what the fuck it's about,
before the picture we painted chews us up and spits us out.
CHORUS (x2)
Redefine.
CHORUS
Must we demonstrate that we can't get it straight?
We've painted a picture, now we're drowning in the paint.
Let's figure out what the fuck it's about,
before the picture we painted chews us up and spits us out.
02 Vitamin (03:13)
I'm born.
I'm alive.
I breathe.
In a moment or two I realize, that the sphere,
upon which I reside,
is asleep on it's feet.
should I go back to sleep?
I'm born.
I'm alive.
I breathe.
In a moment or two I realize, that the sphere,
upon which I reside,
is asleep on it's feet.
should I, should I, should I go back to sleep?
You stare at me like I'm a vitamin.
On the surface you hate,
but you know you need me.
I come dressed as any pill you deem fit.
Whatever helps you swallow the truth
all the more easily
We orbit the sun
I grow up
my open eyes see...
A zombified, somnambulist society.
Leaving us as vitamins for the
hibernating human animal.
Do you, do you, do you see what I mean?
You stare at me like I'm a vitamin.
On the surface you hate,
but you know you want me.
I come dressed as any pill you deem fit.
Whatever helps you swallow the truth
all the more easily
And I wonder, will you digest me?
Into the sleep machine I won't plug in,
in fact I'd rather die before I will comply.
To you my friend, I write the reason I still live,
'cause in my mind it's set;
the vitamin is ripe to give.
Coming closer to another 2000 years;
you and I will pry the closed eye of the sleep machine.
You stare at me like I'm a vitamin.
On the surface you hate,
but you know you want me.
I come dressed as any pill you deem fit.
Whatever helps you swallow the truth
all the more easily
03 New Skin (03:51)
At first I see an open wound
infected and disastrous.
It breathes chaotic catastrophe,
It cries to be renewed.(Flaming over!)
It's tears are the color of anger,
they dry to form a scab.
To the touch, it's stiff and resilient,
underneath, the new skin breathes.
It's all been saved,
with the exception for the right parts.
When will we be new skin?
As outwardly cliche as it may seem,
Yess- something under the surface says, "C'est la vie."
It is a circle, there is a plan,
dead skin will atrophy itself and start again.
Look closely at that open wound,
see past what covers the surface.
Underneath chaotic catastrophe,
creation takes the stage.
Dead skin will atrophy itself and start again.(x3)
It's all been saved,
with the exception for the right parts.
When will we be new skin?
It's all been seen,
with the exception for what could be.
When will we be new skin?
[Spoken]
UNTIL THE 20th CENTURY
REALITY WAS EVERYTHING
HUMANS COULD TOUCH,
SMELL, SEE, AND HEAR.
SINCE THE INITIAL
PUBLICATION OF THE
CHARTED ELECTROMAGNETIC
SPECTRUM, HUMANS HAVE
LEARNED THAT WHAT THEY
CAN TOUCH, SMELL, SEE, AND
HEAR IS LESS THAN ONE
MILLIONTH OF REALITY.
[/Spoken]
Fallacious cognitions
spewed from televisions
do mould our decisions.
So stop and take a look,
and you'll see what i see now.
It's all been saved,
with the exception for the right parts.
When will we be new skin?
It's all been seen,
with the exception for what could be.
When will we be new skin?
04 Idiot Box (04:07)
You keep your riches and I'll sew my stitches
You can't make me think like you, mundane
I've got a message for all those who think that
They can etch these words inside my brain
T.V., what do I need?
Tell me who to believe!
What's the use of autonomy
When a button does it all?
So listen up, glisten up closely all
Who've seen the fuckin' eye ache too
It's time to step away from cable train
And when we finally see the subtle light
This quirk in evolution will begin
To let us live and recreate
T.V., what do I need?
Tell me who to believe!
What's the use of autonomy
When a button does it all?
T.V., what should I see?
Tell me who should I be?
Let's do our mom a favor and drop
A new god off a wall
Let me see past the fatuous knocks
I've gotta rid myself of this idiot box!
Let you see past the feathers and flocks
And help me plant a bomb in this idiot box!
From the depths of the sea
To the tops of the trees
To the seat of a lazy boy....
Staring at a silver screen!
05 Glass (03:37)
If I had a dime for every time you walked away
I could afford to not give a shit
And buy a drink and drown my day
But your pockets, they are empty
Yea, and mine are times two
So why not make an about-face
And accept the love I send to you?
You're never gonna be content if you don't try
Try to see outside your line
There you go, you did it again!
You act as if there's blinders on your eyes
Should I apologize
If what I say burns your ears and stains your eyes?
Oh, did I crack your shell?
When it falls away, you'll see we exist as well!
Like a bottle with the cork stuck
Your true ingredients trapped up inside
Through the cloudy glass we catch a glimpse of you
I guess the hard shell represents your pride
Oh, if only it could be different
We could uncover the you, you deny
Between two, a small discrepancy
One complicates and one simplifies
You're never gonna be content if you don't try
Try to see outside your line
There you go, you did it again!
You act as if there's blinders on your eyes
Should I apologize
If what I say burns your ears and stains your eyes?
Oh, did I crack your shell?
When it falls away, you'll see we exist as well!
TAKE THOSE FUCKING BLINDERS OFF YOUR EYES!!!
So if I had a dime for every time you walked away
You could bet your bottom dollar
That I'd be filthy rich by noon today
06 Magic Medicine (03:03)
On this page
You see a little girl giggling at a hippopotamus
I wonder why?
Wonder why?
On this page
You see a little girl giggling at a hippopotamus
I wonder why?
Now turn the page
Thank you
On this page
You see a little girl giggling at a hippopotamus
Don't, don't, don't, don't
Don't say things that hurt others
Is it pussy cat?
Pussy cat, pussy cat, pussy cat
Isn't that hippo fat!
Fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat
Or shout: Hyena, I hate you!
Hate you, hate you, hate you, hate you, hate you, hate you
I found a sound in the house one day
If you know who lost it,
I'll give it away
Away, give it away, give it away
This sound I found said
This sound belongs to a
Pot, pot, pot
The magic medicine worked!
07 A Certain Shade of Green (03:11)
A certain shade of green,
tell me, is that what do you need?
All signs around say move ahead.
Could someone please explain to me
your ever present lack of speed?
Are your muscles bound by ropes?
Or do crutches cloud your day?
My sources say the road is clear,
the street signs point the way.
(You gonna stand around till 2012 A.D.?
What are you waiting for,
a certain shade of green?
I think I grew a gray
watching you procrastinate.
What are you waiting for,
a certain shade of green?) (CHORUS)
Would a written invitation
signed, "Choose now or lose it all,"
sedate your hesitation?
Or inflame and make you stall?
You've been raised in limitation,
but that glove never fit quite right.
The time has passed for hand-me-downs,
choose a new, please evolve,
take flight.
(CHORUS)
Green� What are you waiting for?
What you waitin� for?
A written invitation?
A public declaration?
A private consolation?
Remember when you procrastinate you choose last!
(I think I grew a gray, watching you PROCRASTINATE!)
(CHORUS)
08 Favorite Things (03:11)
I'm thinking of my soul severity
And I know everything you hate in me
Fill me up with over-pious badgerate
Throw them up; one of my favorite things
Too bad the things that make you mad
Are my favorite things
My favorite things
Remember all the lessons fed to me
Me, the young sponge, so ready to agree
Years have gone; recognize the walking dead
Now aware that I'm alive and way ahead
Too bad the things that make you mad
Are my favorite things
Hell ya
Wo ya
I'm so happy
I see you looking
I know that you're thinking
That I'll never go anywhere
The things that I've done
And the things that I've seen
I don't really expect you to care
Go!
Too bad the things that make you mad
Are my favorite things
Hell ya
Wo ya
I'm so happy
Too bad the things that make you mad
Are my favorite
Too bad the things that make you mad
Are my favorite things.
09 Summer Romance (Anti-Gravity Love Song) (04:26)
I'm home alone tonight
Full moon illuminates my room
And sends my mind aflight
I think I was dreaming of some thoughts
That were seemingly possible with you
So I call you on the tin can phone
We rendezvous at quarter to
And make sure we're alone
I think I have found a way for you and I to finally fly free
When we get there
We're gonna go fly so far away
Making sure to laugh
While we experience anti-gravity
Anti-gravity (x2)
For years, I kept it to myself
Now potentialities are bound
And living under my shelf
Simply choose your destination
From the diamond canopy
And we'll be there
So I call you on the tin can phone
We rendezvous at a quarter to
And make sure we're alone
I think I've found the way for you and I to finally be free
When we get there
We're gonna go fly so far away
Making sure to laugh
While we experience anti-gravity
anti-gravity (x2)
anti-gravity (x2)
10 Nebula (03:50)
Do... you..., do you enjoy... your sight inside...
Disconnect and let me drift until my upside down is right side in
Society must let the artist go to wander off into the nebula
Wander off into you nebula
Your nectarine of multiplicity
Cum like orgasmatron on overdrive
Wander in off to your nebula
Your tangerine of electricity is ripe and on a vine
So, pick your prize
In....little black book... do I... confide..
Upon return, I conjure what was seen, I let it pulse and boil within my limbs
I lay my pencil to the porous page and let my lunatic indulge itself
Wander off into you nebula
Your nectarine of multiplicity
Cum like orgasmatron on overdrive
Wander in off to your nebula
Your tangerine of electricity is ripe and on a vine
So, pick your prize, prize, prize, prize
"Such as is found in the crab: nebula"
"Such as is found: nebula"
"Nebula is found, is found"
"As it is found: nebula, nebula"
Disconnect and let me drift until my upside down is right side in
Society must let the artist go to wander off into the nebula
Wander off into you nebula
Your nectarine of multiplicity
Cum like orgasmatron on overdrive
Wander in off to your nebula
Your tangerine of electricity is ripe and on a vine
So, pick your prize
11 Deep Inside (03:55)
It's 3 o'clock, and we ask ourselves
Where are we now?
It seems we've wondered out of bounds again
(Over and over we, ask ourselves why we don't,
utilize things that are, stored deep inside of our...)
Deep inside, I'm on my own, I can't see straight
Deep inside, cause I'm so stoned, I can't see straight
Man, I've got to find my way back home, but I'm too deep inside
It's 4 o'clock, and we ask ourselves
Where did we go wrong?
We passed my house at least an hour ago
(Over and over we, ask ourselves why don't,
utilize things that are, stored deep inside of our...)
Deep inside, I'm on my own, I can't see straight
Deep inside, 'cause I'm so stoned, I can't see straight
(cool guitar solo)
It's 5 o'clock, and we tell ourselves
We need to get home
The sun is creeping overhead again
I'm way too deep inside to get home....x4
Oh my god I've got to get home....x3
I'm way too deep inside to get home
(over and over we, ask ourselves why we don't,
utilize things that, are stored deep inside of our...)
I know exactly where we are, where the FUCK are we?
(another cool guitar solo till end)
Carico i commenti... con calma
Altre recensioni
Di VincVega
"Se li amate e non lo possedete, procuratevelo, chi non li conosce parta da questo poi solo in un secondo tempo si procuri gli altri."
"Gli Incubus sono diventati un’altra band, si sono convertiti al dio denaro... ma qui la voglia di sperimentare è al massimo."
