Cliffs, by Aphex Twin

Cuando el cielo no nos alcanza,
la tierra intenta extenderse,
acariciarnos.
Sus accidentes dejan de serlo,
se convierten en patrones
a noventa kilómetros por hora.
Nadie los dibuja,
pero se borran
y se forman.
Se borran
y se forman.
Las repeticiones
no cesan, quieren romperse,
la monotonía se quiebra,
nos dice:
“verde, azul”.

You Know I'm No Good, by Amy Winehouse

Some women are like a force of nature. We must accept we are helpless before them. You just have to let go, because otherwise you will live in hell: your chest, your stomach, your whole body will burn with a mixture of jealousy, desire, envy, passion, lust. We can't but fall in love with them: no fair warning will help us from falling into the darkness of their abyss. Sweat, whiskey, sex and sax: the ceiling of the night will drip tears of blood. We have to let fate tempt us; accept our destinies and walk the plank, blindfolded, out of our own free will. This is the real siren's call. Man's ruin. A beautiful, strong, intelligent, sexy woman. Pura piel, pura voz. Ella and Roberta haunt her song. Throw the dice. Close your eyes. You know it, and still you will fall.

A Little Soul by Pulp

Until very recently, I didn't want to have children. Not that I was afraid that they'd ruin my career, or that I was too young but might change my mind as I got older, or even anything about world population levels - I was afraid that I'd be a bad parent.

Yeah, I wish I could be an example.

Wish I could say I stood up for you and fought for what was right.

But I never did.

Specifically I didn't want to be the kind of parent my mother is. I still am afraid of that, and more; there are just so many ways to be a bad mother. And, if anything my fears have increased as I've gotten older; knowing myself as I do, and my inability to break bad habits. Like the protagonist in this song, you can be aware of the problem, but you might not be able to fix it; the behaviour perpetuates itself for the length of your life. Is there anything scarier?

You think I'm joking?

Well, try me. Yeah, try me. Yeah come on, try me tonight.

I did what was wrong though I knew what was right.

I've got no wisdom that I want to pass on.

Just don't hang 'round here, no, I'm telling you son.

You don't wanna know me...

Amoeba, by The Future Sound of London

“The beautiful”, he wrote,
is not the veil

’tis not the veiled object either

“The beautiful”, he wrote,
is the object in its veil

like the layers of the sea

the placenta underwaters
the aura of a new beginning

and then
in the pages of a notebook

tightly interfolded like cotyledons
a suggested improvement on nature:

“The beautiful”, he dreamed,
would have the sound of this sea,

memory flowing, dreamscaping,
the becoming living through the light.

Untitled 1, by Sigur Ros

Pocas canciones son destino:

La mañana más fría de mi vida estuve viendo el amanecer como un sonámbulo. El mundo naciendo sin cesar ese día de marzo me hizo ver que mi destino no era estar a tu lado. El frío salía callado de ese departamento que habitamos y que confundimos con esperanza. A las cinco de la mañana me levanté de la cama para encontrar una verdad en las tinieblas. Yo había dejado el nuevo disco de Sigur Ros en el cd player y decidí en esos momentos ponerlo como ruido de fondo. Pero fue todo lo contrario, porque a través de la ventana miré, con esas notas musicales, la soledad, la paz sombría y la distancia que nos esperaba juntos.

El frío del alma es tan grave como la muerte...