: 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