Un álbum en cuartos (II)
Hoy voy a hablaros del segundo cuarto de mi álbum Arts & Crafts and Frankensteins. Os podéis imaginar que me escucho las canciones sobre las que me dispongo a escribir. Con algunas de ellas, las que, por el motivo que sea, ya no suelen formar parte de mis actuaciones y casi nunca toco, al escucharlas después de cierto tiempo me llevo un buen meneo emocional, las siento como cosas que pasaron hace una vida. ¡Eso es lo que pasa cuando estás un par de años sin tocar una canción!
En fin, no hay dónde esconderse, así que a por la primera, Six Steps, la cuarta del álbum. Six Steps es una de mis pocas canciones "hippies", por así decirlo. Generalmente estoy demasiado absorta en mis propias historias como para prestar mucha atención a lo que pasa ahí fuera (no estoy orgullosa de ello, pero qué le voy a hacer... durante mis interactiones con el mundo trato de ser una buena persona). Sin embargo, el día que oí hablar de la teoría de los Seis Grados de Separación me sedujo tanto la idea una posible demostración teórica de que estamos todos conectados, que tuve que escribir una canción al respecto. Aquí la tenéis.
Only six steps, six step are enough/to get you in touch with anybody in this world/It's there on my Facebook, the power to prove/we're part of something, Humanity is something/ as a whole/An imaginary dotted line/which springs from me an will find whoever of you, wherever you are/Such a revelation/Maybe if everyone knew/Maybe if everyone was explained/proved in the eyes of the cynical ones/who justify everything by saying/"we're mere animals, human is evil"Only six steps away from everybody else, so would that help you not get angry with your boss/and not speak that word/which is only meant to hurt/to forget about those episodes I can't seem to let go/ Only six steps, I keep wondering what does that really stands for/Will it make a difference to those/I presume only care about themselves/ who sit back on their big fat chairs/so far high above consequence/Will I get to touch them in six steps/Will I find it doesn't really matter in the end/Like "we've known it all along, but honestly, who cares?"/Will I find that it's the answer to all the silent prayers?/Will it set us to knocking on everybody else's shell?/It's comfortable here in my sofa/there's the sweet sound of the rain/and the buzz of love in this house, my dearest step/If I could scatter some of this on everybody's fate/I'm sure that might help, how far can we all go in only six steps
He said goodnight, lighting my face with his/“what’s your name” smile/I had been alone for too long/And willing to make a little room in my heart/Then came the beer, and then came the wine/And then came sincerity and the he grew sad/The adventurer’s joy suddenly drowned by his past/‘Cause love doesn’t usually work/and he’s old enough to know/But I guess that he does not/But I guess that he does not/Still, I kept X-raying his shirt with my eyes/Still, I kept pouring the wine/And I guess it showed/I guess I made him feel my object of desire/cause he blocked my way and/put that sweet “kiss me” face/asked for being held and swore he’d behave/“And why should him?”, I thought/just let’s not mess with our hearts/And I swear I had no desire/But to turn upwards the corners of your mouth/And shorten the distance in your eyes/And make you feel that moment was right/But I can’t have a piece without wanting it all/And you can’t want a piece without having it all/For four night’s his flawless skin I owned/For four days I chased down his words/But they were not meant for me/Or anyone he knows/There’s just this big one ideal that doesn’t suit us/That’s what happens when you pretty much know/You just need to be alone/Still you try to mess with someone’s heart/Regardless that you said that you would not/So we said goodbye at the door of the bus/With an unworthy kiss and a distracted hug/“ We are sure to meet again”, I recall in this train that so conveniently takes me away/so that you can try to be nursed/by some smaller hands and sweeter lips/to suck out the mess that made a nest in you heart the day that you realized/that love and future don’t always walk hand in hand
La última canción es "Getting On", también co-escrita con el fotógrafo Ismael Tato. La acepción de este phrasal verb a la que me acojo en la letra es ni más ni menos que "hacerse viejo", sin hacerse mala sangre por ello. Vale, sí, no es agradable notar la edad en los huesos, pero el acumular información, aunque a veces sea un poco doloroso, es bastante entretenido. Como dice mi amigo Vincent Searfoss (que, por cierto, acaba de sacar un álbum de composiciones instrumentales al banjo llamado "Silver & Marrow" que no deberíais perderos): "Quizás cierta agilidad mental reemplaza la agilidad de las extremidades". Echadle un oído. Y que tengáis un buen día. Mañana más.
So, the world doesn't belong to me anymore and／no, I can't sit on my feet for long／the careless years have gone／And time is either cherished or lost／It's just the way it goes／I still don't like saying it but deep down I know／Hurry, hurry, this can only get worse/Let's go back and laugh at those two/fresh and dumb and sweet kings of the world/Let's propose a toast to us/stripped of our ignorance but still pretty bold/Still learning how to make the most/Can't pretend time doesn't/ work its way to my every cell/and each breath means one less/The stunts keep getting harder to nail/and losses cut they'll weight/like all the stuff that's out of my hands/There's both advantage and pain/to the fact that I didn't know/what I know now, then/Hurry, hurry, this can only get worse/Plastic lips and idle eyelids won't do/Well, it sucks but it's true/Time's out to get you/And you gotta learn to live with what you can't undo/Hurry, hurry, this can only get worse