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"No more heroes anymore, no more heroes anymore"
Questo il grido, questo lo slogan già fatto proprio da mille voci che lo urlano al cielo. E' il 1977 e Londra brucia con i suoi antieroi punk, mentre il punk, il movimento, inizia a disperdersi in polveri e lapilli ancora incandescenti, ma che di lì a poco sarebbero stati innocui. Alle porte arrivano già nuove pulsioni, nuovi modi di esprimere il proprio essere e le proprie inquietudini, e forse, a ben vederlo oggi, quel ‘77 londinese non avrà che la durata di uno scatto di fotografia. Ma in quella fotografia, di sicuro, ci sono gli Stranglers.
I quattro di Guildford, pur non essendo propriamente dei punk, si trovano al posto e al momento giusto, e con tutte le carte in regola per cavalcare l'infuocata scena. Brutti, magari, no, ma forse "sporchi", nell'accezione maudit del termine, e presunti cattivi, per i comportamenti ribelli e talvolta oltraggiosi che tengono ai concerti e soprattutto nei confronti di stampa e ordine pubblico. Con l'album d'esordio "Rattus Norvegicus", peraltro, si sono presentati con un vestito elegante quasi d'avanguardia colta, certo aggressivi per vocazione, ma anche molto melodici e strutturati, ben lontani insomma da formule fatte di quattro accordi e qualche urlaccio. Basti pensare a quelle tastiere impazzite che dipingono le canzoni con schizzi di colori, alle costruzioni dei brani quasi prog, e a quella chitarra vibrante ma discreta che in molti suoni anticipa la new wave. Qualcuno addirittura li paragona ai Doors, accostamento di sicuro avventato, ma da accettarsi nella misura in cui riuscì a sviare dall'immagine di fenomeno "di stagione" rendendo l'idea di un progetto ben più complesso.
"No More Heroes", con la sua copertina così funerea eppure così viva, arriva nei negozi pochi mesi dopo il debutto. E' un'altra folgorazione, un disco senza soste che si mescola al flusso del tempo e lo interpreta ancora una volta con un piglio originale, ma con molta più foga rispetto al predecessore. Se in"Rattus Norvegicus" infatti c'era stato più lavoro di studio e di limatura, così non è per "No More Heroes", che affonda i suoi colpi con assoluta naturalezza senza curarsi di quello che potranno dire le cronache. E' un album ruvido, energico, tagliente, a tratti irriverente se non proprio scorretto ("I Feel Like a Wog", "Bring On The Nubiles") e in buona sostanza ha tutta l'aria di sembrare il vero esordio per gli Stranglers, come se fosse stato di poco posticipato.
C'è tutto lo spirito del punk ad infiammare gli undici brani in scaletta, ma ci sono pure la melodia delle chitarre e le fantasie elettroniche del magico Dave Greenfield a ricordarci di quale spessore sia la proposta. Episodi come "Dagenham Dave", "Dead Ringer","English Towns" sono perfetti nella loro immediatezza, ma dischiudono un cuore pulsante fatto di vibrazione rock'n roll condita talvolta da starniate sensazioni funk. Ancora più lontane dal già sentito sono le allucinazioni di "Peasant In The Big Shitty" e in particolare "School Mam", una danza legnosa e inquietante contro gli squallidi costumi di una società che pensa in piccolo. E poi c'è la celebre e festosa "Something Better Change", e poi c'è lei, la title track, un manifesto, un inno del punk al pari se non superiore di "Anarky In The Uk": tre minuti che sono il sunto di tutto ciò che il punk voleva o avrebbe voluto esprimere, tra ribellione e disincanto, e al tempo stesso un ponte con un futuro prossimo che sarà fatto di melodia e sperimentazione. Accordi di una semplicità disarmante (Le Elastica e tanti altri ringrazieranno), un cantato deciso, e caroselli di tastiere in sottofondo a dare al tutto un sapore epico, destinato a durare.
Dunque gli Stranglers non erano nati punk, o non esattamente, ma questo lavoro, col suo essere ribelle, dissacrante, provocatorio, ne fa delle vere e proprie icone del movimento. In questo senso "No More Heroes" rimane una pietra miliare assoluta per chi volesse avvicinarsi allo spirito di quegli anni. Poi alla fine dei '70 Il punk muore, e mentre il suo fantasma si nutrirà e continuerà a vivere nella memoria collettiva grazie a questo e pochi altri dischi, i quattro avranno spalle larghe e idee da vendere per proseguire un'onorata carriera fino ai giorni nostri, rivelandosi uno dei gruppi più longevi della storia del rock. "Whatever happened to the heroes?" riecheggiava perentorio trent'anni fa esatti. Beh, sarete d'accordo adesso su chi siano gli eroi, che da qualche parte nel mondo, forse in questo momento, lo stanno ancora gridando.
Elenco tracce testi samples e video
01 I Feel Like a Wog (03:16)
I feel like a wog people giving me the eyes
But I was born here just like you
I feel like a wog
Got all the dirt shitty jobs
But everybody's got to have something to do with their time
I feel like a wog
I don't wanna go home
I've got a lot of life to run through
I feel like a wog
I don't mean you no harm
Just don't ask me to shine your shoes
Golly gee: Golly gosh
Don't call me your Golly Wog
Golly gee: Golly gosh
Don't call me your Golly Wog
Let me tell you about Pimpo
We met him down at the After Eight
He wanted to sell us some limbo
But we said mister
You've just got to wait
You've got to wait (x3)
He wanted to take us down to Sao Paulo
But we said mister
We ain't got no bread
I tried to make him laugh
But he didnt get the joke
And then he said I wasnt right in the head
And then he made me (x3)
And then he made me feel
And then he made me feel like (x3)
You know I feel like (x3)
You know I feel like a wog
02 Bitching (04:25)
Bitching 'bout the things we've seen
Bitching 'bout the things we've been
Bitching 'bout the loves we've had
My, oh my it wasn't so bad
When we had that to loosen our minds
Hey little baby in the front row be kind
Bar bitching: telling you the gospel truth
Bar bitching: why don't you all go get screwed?
Bar bitching: why don't you tell me something new?
Bar bitching: Bar bitching
Bitching 'bout the Windsor C
Bitching 'bout the Western Sea
Why can't you all be like a Grainger man?
Or even a Pheland man?
I'll tell you what we'll meet in Amsterdam
Then you'll see what should be really can
Bar bitching: telling you the gospel truth
Bar bitching: why don't you all go get screwed?
Bar bitching: why don't you tell me something new?
Bar bitching: Bar bitching That's what I'm talking about
Got anything to say
No
Well shut up
There's a place with a lot of eyes
Strange smoke perfume around the peacock guys
And the girls they move their heat
To the impulsive compulsive beat
But that's another place another time
Maybe we'll meet there in quite a short while
Bar bitching: telling you the gospel truth
Bar bitching: why don't you all go get screwed?
Bar bitching: why don't you tell me something new?
Bar bitching:
I really don't know what to say
It's gonna happen to us all one day
And when it does you could have me too
But until then I really don't know what to do
I'm just gonna keep
Bar bitching: telling you the gospel truth
Bar bitching: why don't you all go get screwed?
Bar bitching: why don't you tell me something new?
Bar bitching:
Bar bitching, Bar bitching, Bar bitching, Bar bitching
03 Dead Ringer (02:46)
Haven't I seen you somewhere around before?
Haven't I seen you somewhere around before?
Bet you're a dead ringer
Bet you're a dead ringer
Bet you're a dead ringer
Bet you're a conkeroonee stringer
Wasn't it you said you was into changing the law?
Wasn't it you said you was into changing the law?
Wasn't it you running around proud of being poor?
Productivity Credibility Impossibility
04 Dagenham Dave (03:18)
Dave was from out of town
Manchester's likely too
Had read De Sade to Marx
More read than me and you
Scaffolding pays good bread
It pays for drugs and kicks
Dave only had one love
Had no real need for chicks
Dave was so far ahead
But now he's dead
I'm not going to cry
I bet he hit that water high
I guess he lost control
And welcomed in the night
It was too much for him
What were his thoughts that night?
The River Thames is cold
It keeps on flowing on
But it left Dave alone
It just kept flowing on
There's city sickness here
But now he's dead
Late night a street in the west of the city
There was a place there where he lost himself
Strange feelings did he feel there
Strange people did he meet there
Angry sounds did he hear there
Like the howling of bulls
06 Something Better Change (03:35)
Don't you like the way I move when you see me?
Don't you like the things that I say?
Don't you like the way I seem to enjoy it?
When you shout things but I don't care
Something's happening and it's happening right now
You're too blind to see it
Something's happening and it's happening right now
Ain't got time to wait
I said something better change
I said something better change
I said something better change
I said something better change
Don't you like the way I dance?
Does it bug you?
Don't you like the cut of my clothes?
Don't you like the way I seem to enjoy it?
Stick my fingers right up your nose
07 No More Heroes (03:27)
Whatever happened to Leon Trotsky?
He got an ice pick
That made his ears burn
Whatever happened to dear old Lenny?
The great Elmyra, and Sancho Panza?
Whatever happened to the heroes?
Whatever happened to the heroes?
Whatever happened to all the heroes?
All the Shakespearoes?
They watched their Rome burn
Whatever happened to the heroes?
Whatever happened to the heroes?
No more heroes any more
No more heroes any more
Whatever happened to all the heroes?
All the Shakespearoes?
They watched their Rome burn
Whatever happened to the heroes?
Whatever happened to the heroes?
No more heroes any more
No more heroes any more
09 Burning Up Time (02:25)
The Brighton train it goes real soon
My Brighton Belle is in her room
It's burning up time
Burning up time
I wanna burn up while I'm having good times
Don't wanna burn up with other people's bad times
Like a meteor
Like to meet yer
The weekend's here the Finchley Boys
Are gonna make a lot of noise
It's burning up time
You either love or you despise
There's just no time for compromise
The days have gotta move real fast
We know that nothing's gonna last
10 English Towns (02:13)
There is no love inside of me
I gave it to a thousand girls
We build towers of saddened ivory
In our English towns
The dogs they try to possess us
I can hear their anguished cries
They build towers of ivory
In our English towns
I can see their astonished eyes
Look the same in any size
And their secrets are all the same
Seeking pleasure seeking fame
No love in a thousand girls
No love in a thousand girls
11 School Mam (06:52)
A fine day for the classroom and the pupils are here
Timmy's got a headache but the others don't care
Sarah's got to stay behind and help with the drill
Teacher's got his eye on her moves in for the kill
Nobody can see or hear the things that they do
All the books are closed there must be something they do
Only teacher knows about the subjects they span span
Education's secondary - being a school mam
Oooey . . . teacher's doing fine as far as I can see
Being a school mam
Long holidays in the summer
Being a school mam
Free milk in your coffee breaks
Being a school mam
Government paid monthly salary cheques
Being a school mam
Noise is heard the principal investigates
She turns on all the cameras and it's too late
Catches both their pants down in a passion warm
Hasn't seen it happen since the day she was born
Reaches down for glasses that just can't be found
By the time she finds them - why they're down on the ground
Tossing and a'turning they've got feverish hands
Life can be so fluid when you're being a school mam
Oooey . . . teacher's doing fine as far as I can see
Being a school mam
Controlling promiscuity after hours
Being a school mam
Giving out detentions by the dozen
Being a school mam
Give her fifty lines (of speed)
Being a school mam
Sucking on her fingernails can't believe what she's seen
She seems so engrossed at what appears on the screen
Locks her door with trembling hands
Her heart's beating fast she pretends she's down there
On the floor in the class
Gives herself to teacher although he doesn't know
Works herself into a frenzied state and it shows
Sarah's almost at the top but try as she can
She can't reach her helter skelter down with the school mam
Just watch her go and help her try if you can
Use your twentieth century imagination if you've got any
Oooey . . . now she's at the top and teacher sets her free
Being a school mam
Disgusting behaviour
Being a school mam
All over the parquet flooring
Being a school mam
Let the flood gates open wide
Being a school mam
Now the principal collapses dead on the floor
with
Contentment on her wrinkled old face ever more
She went out the very best way that an old woman can
She was where the action was down there with the school mam
Oooey . . . teacher never will discover who could see
Being a school mam
One and one make two if you are very lucky
Being a school mam
Two twos make four if I remember correctly
Being a school mam
Four fours make sixteen and sixteen's over age
Sixteen and sixteen make thirty-two, that's approaching middle age
Thirty-two and thirty-two make sixty-four, that's OAP land
Sixty-four and sixty-four make one-hundred-and-twenty-eight
One-hundred-and-twenty-eight divided by three
Let me pause for reflection for a second
But teacher
Three does not go into one-hundred-and-twentyeight exactly;
but it goes forty-two and a bit;
43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 49. 1, 49.2, 49.3, 49.4, 49.5, 49.6, 49.7,
49.8, 49.9 (X9)
Fifty
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