Marianne
La tua mancanza di simpatia non riesce a disturbarmi.
Immagina di abbandonare la città stanca e di incamminarti in una Sheffield plumbea immersa negli 80's, addosso solo bermuda e una t-shirt con la stampa del bel faccione di Alan Vega, in testa quelle inseparabili Koss HV/X glaciali compagne di fredda alienazione.
E' cyberpunk ante litteram, la genesi è l' EP Holiday '80, quel sogno lucido direttamente trapiantato nel midollo della bella replicante Marianne, un reale portale acido temporale con vista su rituali sintetici di riviere ghiacciate che ti trasportano nel cuore pulsante della rivoluzione synthpop. The Human League, ancora nella loro formazione originale — Philip Oakey, Martyn Ware, Ian Craig Marsh e Adrian Wright — sono quei bonzi techno pop da costellazione di idee e laboratorio sonoro che fonde arte visiva, provocazione concettuale e tecnologia analogica.
Pubblicato nel maggio del 1980, è l’ultimo respiro della formazione originale — Oakey, Ware, Marsh e Wright — prima della grande scissione che avrebbe generato quelle due galassie: Heaven 17 e la nuova Human League da classifica.
“The Black Hit of Space” è come se Roy Batty stesse cantando il suo addio alle stelle, il primo contatto, il segnale alieno captato da un satellite abbandonato, loop che implode, virus sonoro corruttore di realtà sottovuoto, Atari sound primordiale intrappolato in una hit che diventa troppo grande per l’universo terrestre.
Poi “Only After Dark”, è la notte che diventa un liquido nero che scorre tra i circuiti, è il momento dell'amore folle e replicante, la folle danza dell'amore tra software e realtà, quei synth carezze fredde, la voce un sussurro che si perde tra le antenne, quel ballo lento di due esseri che non hanno anima ma sentono tutto.
"Life Kills” è la presa di coscienza. Il replicante scopre il dolore, la routine, la prigione della carne, le parole sono lame, i suoni sono gabbie. La fabbrica dove nascono i sogni e muoiono le illusioni. È il momento in cui capisci che anche le macchine possono soffrire.
E poi “Dreams of Leaving”, il capolavoro. Un romanzo cyberpunk in forma di canzone. Un ragazzo sogna di fuggire da una scuola che è una prigione, da una città che è un labirinto. Ma la fuga è solo un’altra illusione, I synth costruiscono paesaggi mentali, deserti elettrici, autostrade che portano nel nulla. È il Blade Runner che corre sotto la pioggia, inseguito dai suoi stessi pensieri.
E “WXJL Tonight” è la fine. Una radio trasmette da un mondo che ormai non esiste più. La voce è quella di una DJ che non sa di essere morta, i suoni sono echi, fantasmi, frammenti. È il momento in cui il replicante si spegne, ma lascia dietro di sé un sogno.
La copertina è un inganno. Un paesaggio naturale, dei cani, un uomo. Ma è tutto finto. È il ricordo di un mondo che non c’è mai stato. È la nostalgia di qualcosa che non hai mai vissuto.
Travelogue è poesia sintetica. È il Blade Runner che non hai mai visto, il diario di un’anima artificiale che ha imparato a sognare, il suono di una lacrima che cade su un circuito.
È il futuro che ci ha già dimenticati.
Finchè sei in tempo, afferra quelle Koss HV/X ed immergiti nell'ascolto.
E fuggi, finchè sei in tempo.
Elenco tracce testi e video
01 The Black Hit of Space (04:14)
Been out all night, I needed a bite, I thought I'd put a record on
I reached for the one with the ultra-modern label, and wondered where the light had gone
It had a futuristic cover, lifted straight from Buck Rogers
The record was so black it had to be a con
The autochanger switched as I filled my sandwich
And futuristic sounds warbled off and on
The black hit of space
It's the one without a face
It's the one that doesn't fit
You can only see the flip
The black hit of space
Sucking in the human race
How can it stay at the top
When it's swallowed all the shops
As the song climbed the charts, the others disappeared
Til there was nothing but it left to buy
It got to number one, then into minus figures
Though nobody could understand why
The black hit of space
It's the one without a face
It's the one that doesn't fit
You can only see the flip
The black hit of space
Sucking in the human race
How can it stay at the top
When it's swallowed all the shops
I couldn't stand this bland sound any more so I walked towards my deck to turn it off
All I could see was the B-side of the disc which had assumed a doughnut shape with the label on the outside rim
I reached for the arm which was less than one micron long but weighed more than Saturn and time stood still
I knew I had to escape but every time I tried to flee, the record was in front of me
The black hit of space
Get James Burke on the case
It's the hit that's never gone
Time stops when you put it...[on]
02 Only After Dark (03:53)
I feel my spirit fly
Only after dark - ahh
I kiss the world goodbye
Only after dark - ahh
Fight with the city lights
Only after dark - ahh
Run, I'd like to run away
Only after dark - ahh
Won't you disappear into midnight with me
Why don't you come, why don't you come, why don't you fly, fly, fly with
Sweet elusive Fate ,will be our company
Bring out the vamp in me
Only after dark - ahh
Moon, sinful as can be
Only after dark - ahh
It's wrong to feel so free (!)
Only after dark - ahh
Only you know it can be
Only after dark - ahh
Won't you disappear into midnight with me
Why don't you come, why don't you come, why don't you fly, fly, fly with
Sweet elusive In Fade , will be our company
Personal Note from John Von Ahlen :
I give up. Anybody who knows what the words are in the chorus - PLEASE - email me!
I just can't figure it out :
06 Crow and a Baby (03:46)
A crow and a baby
Had an affair
The result was a landslide
The result was a dare
The result was a baby
Who wanted it all
Moved out of the doll's house
Moved out of the hall
With one wing on the town and a gleam in an eye of red
Said "My father was a crow, now I want all fathers dead
Find the fathers of this world, treat them as a fatal foe
Put them in the deepest hole, then cover the pit with snow"
With one wing on the town
And a gleam in an eye of red
I'm just trying to tell you what you'll come up against
If you venture from my side, If you think you're so mature
You will end up in a field, you will be someone's manure
Mushrooms growing from your back
Feeding some damn carrion bird
Do you want to contribute
To the corruption of the world?
With one wing on the town
And a gleam in an eye of red
A crow and a baby
Had an affair
My dream was the baby
The crow was your hair
Parts of me love parts of you
That at least is obvious
Give my baby back to me
You must see it's only just
With one wing on the town
And a gleam in an eye of red
With one wing on the town
And a gleam in an eye of red
With one wing on the town
And a gleam in an eye of red
07 The Touchables (03:24)
Speaking of which, what is your choice
Your conversation will suffice
I feel the need that's known to all
Better use it up before the levels fall
You can take me back to the primal drive
You can carry on until we arrive
Hypnotised inside
Now I'm not young and you're not old
I'd rather purchase than be sold
Crazed friends so bold
It's not easy to conceal
When you're so touchable
People will hide indifference
Just to be touchable
They still emit split second screams
When they are touchable
Under the surface just for kicks
Sincerely touchable
You say it's okay, but what do I feel
Guilt, compassion, or Achilles Heel
Little feet march down grey matter hill
Then panic occurs, no seeds to spill
What's the matter now
Please look up and speak
Your spirit's wilting and your flesh is weak
Eight days a week
I can't imagine what'll happen now
I wonder when and I wonder how
The end will come
It's not easy to conceal
When you're so touchable
People will hide indifference
Just to be touchable
It's not easy to conceal
When you're so touchable
People will hide indifference
Just to be touchable
They still emit split second screams
When they are touchable
Under the surface just for kicks
Sincerely touchable
The final answer to all our fears
Abrupt conclusion to all our years
Still touchable but no one hears
They carry on hypnotised inside
09 Being Boiled (04:25)
Listen to the voice of Buddha
Saying stop your sericulture
Little people like your offspring
Boiled alive for some Gods stocking
Buddha's watching, Buddha's waiting
Just because the kid's an orphan
Is no excuse for thoughtless slaying
People don't forget this torture
Just because you call her mother
Doesn't mean that she's your better
Once more with the voice of Buddha
He'll say carry on your slaughter
Who cares for the little children
You may slice with no conviction
Blind revenge on a blameless victim
Listen to the voice of Buddha
Saying stop your sericulture
He'll say carry on your slaughter
Who cares for the little children
You may slice with no conviction
Blind revenge on a blameless victim
Listen to the voice of Buddha
Listen to the voice of Buddha
Listen to the voice of Buddha
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Altre recensioni
Di Mike76
"un lavoro che non è né carne né pesce né sperimentale né pop ma una confusa via di mezzo."
"Gli unici motivi d’interesse dell’album sono rappresentati da 'The black hit of space' ... e la curiosa doppia cover in medley."
