Friday, February 10, 2006

Waterfall, by The Stone Roses

Then sun rises. A new morning. You don't want to get up. It's the tedium vitae of everyday. You open your eyes slowly, as if afraid the ceiling would fall over your head. You are in the place where you have always been. And suddenly you remember. Today is the day.

Chimes sing Sunday morn

Waterfall begins with the sounds of epic hope. The musical narrative of an escape: of the (im)possibilities of change. A sort of working class hymn, a song of light and youthful energy. An optimistic anthem that carries heavy loads of sadness with it. Not the "shiny-happy-people" sort of stupid joy, but an act of imagination, the construction of a mental landscape. The ultimate mapping of a great escape.

Today’s the day she’s sworn
To steal what she never could own
And race from this hole she calls home

Now you’re at the wheel
Tell me how, how does it feel?
So good to have equalised
To lift up the lids of your eyes

As the mile they disappear
See land begin to clear
Free from the filth and the scum
This american satelites won

You are behind the weel of a car you had only dreamed of; the wind against your face, England's weak sun over your head. Imagine the countryside, the city left behind. You have nowhere to go, but you are still running. This is the music of your new-found freedom. And still... and still... you know, deep down, that no matter where you go, there will always be... well, you. "The filth and the scum", "the hole" you call "home" are not quite left behind. Words seems to betray you. It could be you are water, free and wild, unstoppable. It could be, as well, a declaration of failure: you go on, but, with you, there comes all the rest, all that you wanted to run away from.

She’ll carry on through it all
She’s a waterfall

The sky is huge. The blue of the morning soon turns that well-known concrete grey. Drive, he sd. Listen to the bright percussing chimes, the delicious, beautifully wounding guitar, the pounding bass of a deprived heart. It's a Sunday morning. The sun is gone and it starts raining. You take your hand out to feel the water run through your skin. You take the drops to your mouth and taste the rain. You let go the steering wheel. Your hands in the air. You are running away, like a waterfall.


Evelio said...


Ernesto said...


Evelio said...

ni hablar...

tu post es bello. Para mí los Stones Roses pertenecen a esas bandas que me acompañan cuando respiro la vida...