28.12.06



: interpol, o sobre lo chafa
de tripearse con el mood
de las rolas [p.06]



Ésta va por los buenos tiempos y para terminar bien el 2006, con todo y las temperaturas bajo cero y la amargura de estas fechas. Interpol (una banda que yo adoraba desde Turn on the bright lights, 2002) se convirtió de repente en una de mis bandas más odiadas. La razón fue bastante ramplona (por no decir "mamona"). Fue algo así como cuando uno tiene un accidente automovilístico severo: le cuesta a uno volver a querer subirse a un coche en un buen rato, ¿no? Pues en resumen cierta chava "me los robó", a ella que ni el rock le gustaba. Y luego desapareció, llevándose a Banks, al buen Carlos D y compañía. Pero ellos volvieron, como vuelven los buenos amigos, en estas fechas donde ha estado reapareciendo tanta gente, para bien y para mal. El rock salva. La rolita que les dejo (el video dirigido por Floria Sigismondi) dice muchas más cosas de lo que yo podría decir sobre aquella historia. Sobre todo en esa parte de "it's different now that I'm poor and ageing, I'll never see this face again". Lo mejor para el 2007. Un fuerte abrazo a los viejos y nuevos amigos y para esas dos o tres personas ociosas que leen esta madriola siempre.




Obstacle 1, Interpol





I wish I could eat the salt off of your lost faded lips
We can cap the old times make playing only logical harm
We can cap the old lines make playing that nothing else will change
But she can read, she can read, she can read, she can read, she's bad
She can read, she can read, she can read, she's bad, oh she's bad
But it's different now that I'm poor and ageing
I'll never see this face again
You'll go stabbing yourself in the neck
And we can find new ways of living make playing only logical harm
And we can top the old times play making that nothing else will change
But she can read, she can read, she can read, she can read, she's bad
She can read, she can read, she can read, she's bad, oh she's bad
It's different now that I'm poor and ageing
I'll never see this place again
You'll go stabbing yourself in the neck
But it's different now that I'm poor and ageing
I'll never see this place again
You'll go stabbing yourself in the neck
It's in the way that she poses
It's in the things that she puts in my hair
Her stories are boring and stuff
She's always calling my bluff
She puts the, she puts the weights into my little heart
And she gets in my room and she takes it apart
She puts the weights into my little heart
I said she puts the weights into my little heart
She puts the weight, she puts the weight, she puts the weight, she puts the weight,
She puts the weight, she puts the weight, she puts the weight
It's in the way that she walks, her heaven is never enough
She puts the weights in my heart
She puts the, she puts the weights into my little heart