A collective blog which is also a bar, or several bars,
where good pop songs inspire inebriated and often bilingual conversations
"Great rock writing has moved to where the music is moving. Somewhere out there" -Paul Morley
Ya no importa qué días eran, aquí estamos cansados de la melancolía; tampoco si uno de nosotros leía o no, también estamos fastidiados por creer que lo sabíamos todo y que todo lo habíamos leído; y mucho menos importa si fuimos buenos amigos o no, la verdad es que después de tantos años la amistad es un término irrelevante. "El aquí y el ahora", dijiste, "es lo que importa."
Oh, after a tortous year finally the University. So, she asks you to go to her place, it's been a while since you don't see her. After your first day at the University you head to her place to have something to eat and hang out the rest of the evening, as usual. You get there and you talk about your first day, it might be great. She listens to you, but you notice there is something wrong. She's not as perceptive/talkative as usual. But she lets you talk and talk. You see the clock and it's almost nine o'clock. You say goodbye, and she tells you: "Hey, here's this record I bought the other day. I think you might like it. Give it to me whenever you want". Gallowsbird's Bark by The Fiery Furnaces. Never heard of 'em. For the next two weeks you listen to the record constantly. You like it. You find it intriguing and emotional. Then, you get her first call in two weeks. You expect the usual: "When will we see?" or something like that. The first thing she says as soon as you pick up the phone is: "When do you give me my record back? I'll leave the country in two days". So you tell her: "I'll drop by your place tomorrow if you want to". You get there and she receives you in the patio. She doesn't let you go inside the house. Fifteen minutes later you give her the record and you say goodbye. That's the last time you'll ever see her. You don't know it, but you suspect it. "Good-bye, have a nice trip". And she slams the door.
If you were born in a very catholic provincial town and you don't find it funny you might just run away as fast as you can. If you get far enough you might feel a bit out of place, as your reminiscent nun school years will chase you like furies --for an unknown sin. If you decide to move to the capital try not to have a lover who has a reputation for being lecherous. He might be outrageously beautiful, that I have to admit, but... his fantastic body and his cover girl face will cost you a future break up and quite an amount of money -- psychoanalisis isn't a free service yet. But listen, if you fall in love with the boy of your dreams and he falls in love with you, do not freak out. You'll find a thousand ways to sabotage this love. And many ways to be unhappy. Breath deeply and accept happiness as your destiny. Don't flirt with silly ideas or people. Oh, those people, they are mostly wrong about everything. They'll tell you he's an idiot, they'll tell you he doesn't deserve to be with a girl like you. Don't believe that crap. Run away from whatever you want, but don't you ever run away from yourslef. If you find yourself caught in love... say YES. But if you don't listen to the voices then my friend you'll soon run out of choices...
Ladytron, or the art of seduction. One of Brian Ferry's Roxy Music's best-known tracks, this song is the glam-space-age true inheritor of Victorian flare and Romantic megalomaniac melancholy. A science-fiction soundscape, a narrative epic made pop song, full of Celtic pixie-like echoes in the wind instruments (oboe, sax) and marchband grandiosity (the sound of the percussion, at the front, literally), Ladytron is the perfect pop translation of the lover-poet's restless state. A true description of 20th century gallantry and drug-induced amor fou ("Love is the drug", indeed, sought in red-light districts at night). Brian Ferry's voice resonates with the security of an experienced hunter-lover, yet many times hurt, made hard by constant heartache. "In Every Home a Heartache", he would also sing, because the glam rock star-lover's voice knows that even if he may "tame" the lady, he will also, very surely, be forsaken that which he sometime ejoyed. A Sir Thomas Wyatt of the Glitter Seventies, Brian Ferry's Roxy Music persona describes a landscape that is both geographical (urban) and emotional. The in crescendo structure of the song resembles a moon rocket launch, the elevation of love-as-a-drug-induced hallucination. A sentimental traveller's journal entry, Ladytron still sounds like an unparalleled love song for those who still decide to fall, even when knowing that everything, in the end, will fade away.
