Chico Buarque, "Joana Francesa"

Tu ris, tu mens trop
Tu pleures, tu meurs trop
Tu as le tropique
Dans le sang et sur la peau
Geme de loucura e de torpor
Já é madrugada
Acorda, acorda, acorda, acorda, acorda
Mata-me de rir
Fala-me de amor
Songes et mensonges
Sei de longe e sei de cor
Geme de prazer e de pavor
Já é madrugada
Acorda, acorda, acorda, acorda, acorda
Vem molhar meu colo
Vou te consolar
Vem, mulato mole
Dançar dans mes bras
Vem, moleque me dizer
Onde é que está
Ton soleil, ta braise
Quem me enfeitiçou
O mar, marée, bateau
Tu as le parfum
De la cachaça e de suor
Geme de preguiça e de calor
Já é madrugada
Acorda, acorda, acorda, acorda, acorda
Acorda, acorda, acorda, acorda, acorda

Tu ris, tu mens trop
Tu pleures, tu meurs trop
Tu as le tropique
Dans le sang et sur la peau
Geme de loucura e de torpor
Já é madrugada
Acorda, acorda, acorda, acorda, acorda
Mata-me de rir
Fala-me de amor
Songes et mensonges
Sei de longe e sei de cor
Geme de prazer e de pavor
Já é madrugada
Acorda, acorda, acorda, acorda, acorda
Vem molhar meu colo
Vou te consolar
Vem, mulato mole
Dançar dans mes bras
Vem, moleque me dizer
Onde é que está
Ton soleil, ta braise
Quem me enfeitiçou
O mar, marée, bateau
Tu as le parfum
De la cachaça e de suor
Geme de preguiça e de calor
Já é madrugada
Acorda, acorda, acorda, acorda, acorda
Acorda, acorda, acorda, acorda, acorda

Chico Buarque, Joana Francesa

The only true freedom is freedom from the heart's desires...

And have you ever wanted something so badly
that it possessed your body & your soul
through the night & through the day
until you finally get it!
And then you realise that it wasn't what you wanted after all.
And then those selfsame sickly little thoughts
now go & attach themselves to something....
....or somebody....new!
And the whole goddamn thing starts all over again.
Well, I've been crushing the symptoms but I can't locate the cause.
Could God really be so cruel?
To give us feelings that could never be fulfilled. Baby!
I've got my sights set on you. I've got my sight set on you
And someday, someday, someday, you'll come my way.
But when you put your arms around me
I'll be looking over your shoulder for something new
'cause I ain't ever found peace upon the breast of a girl
I ain't ever found peace with the religion of the world
I ain't ever found peace at the bottom of a glass
sometimes it seems the more I ask for the less I receive
sometimes it seems the more I ask for the less I receive
The only true freedom is freedom from the heart's desires
& the only true happiness....this way lies.

The The, "True happiness this way lies"(Dusk)

Chaiyya Chaiyya

Fantástica canção só por si.

Para quem não está a ver de onde conhece, é favor clicar aqui para ver descobrir. E se nunca viu, não sabe o que está a perder.

Camille, "Quand Je Marche"

Quand je marche, je marche
quand je dors, je dors
quand je chante, je chante
je m'abandonne

Quand je marche, je marche droit
quand je chante, je chante nue
et quand j'aime, je n'aime que toi
quand j'y pense,
je ne dors plus

Je suis ici
je suis dedans
je suis debout
je ne me moquerai plus de tout

"Entends tu, m'as-tu dit,
le chant du monde", alors depuis
quand l'aube se lève, je la suis
et quand la nuit tombe
je tombe aussi

Je suis ici
je suis dedans
je suis debout
je ne me moquerai plus de tout

Quand j'ai faim, tout me nourrit
le cri des chiens, et puis la pluie
quand tu pars, je reste ici
je m'abandonne
et je t'oublie.

Camille, Le Fil

Beirut, "Nantes"

Lykke Li, "I'm Good, I'm Gone"

Mais algodão amargo/doce aqui

Bon Iver, "The Wolves (Act I & II)"

Gogol Bordello, "Ave. B"

Ah Nica, everything is illuminated indeed!
Obrigada
Obrigada
Obrigada

The National, "Fake Empire"

Pedras preciosas

Well she tossed all nite like a ragin' sea
woke up an' climbed from th' suicide machine
with her spanish candles an' her persian poems
stuck on th' rocks inside opus 40 stoned
an' scratchin' her wrists in th' pourin' rain
she collapses down upon th' ocean floor again

Tears in waves minds on fire
Nights alone by yr side

Catskill mansions buried screams
i'm alive she cried but i don't know what it means
somewhere out there across th' moonlit sands
there's a line drawn like th' lines on her own hand
an' slammin' her eyes lockin' th' door
she collapses down upon th' ocean floor again

Tears in waves minds on fire
Nights alone by yr side

Mercury Rev, Opus 40

Arcade Fire

Arcade Fire, Lisboa, já 04.07.2007

A foto é uma cagada se considerarmos que a fotógrafa sonhava com uma impressão nítida do que se passava em palco. Esquecendo tal considerando, ficou... assim.
Foi um dos pontos altos das férias. Foi fantástico, emocionante, arrepiante ouvi-los. Geralmente só vejo os meus heróis já em fase de pleno gozo de fama, mais ou menos barrigudos, mais ou menos inchados de si, por vezes a já terem visto melhores dias e a perderem a inspiração de vista.
Foi diferente, ver estes ainda fedelhos, ainda (mais ao menos) no começo. Não ouvi "I Will Follow" em Vilar de Mouros no século passado, mas ouvi pérolas do mesmo calibre nesta noite.
Para rematar, está uma alma a abanar-se quanto mais pode quando, vinda do nada, cai-nos em cima uma farta cabeleira encaracolada e somos abraçadas até ficarmos sem fôlego. "Môri! Eu sabia que ias estar aqui!"
Ele há noites assim...

8º Funchal Jazz Festival

roubado daqui


Este ano não vou lá estar. Não se pode ter tudo, pelo menos enquanto não treinarmos a ubiquidade mais afincadamente :)

33 anos depois

é bom podermos "brincar" Abril como estes putos.
Obrigada a quem o permitiu.

Alma

Looking out the door i see the rain fall upon the funeral mourners
Parading in a wake of sad relations as their shoes fill up with water
And maybe i'm too young to keep good love from going wrong
But tonight you're on my mind so you never know

When i'm broken down and hungry for your love with no way to feed it
Where are you tonight, child you know how much i need it
Too young to hold on and too old to just break free and run

Sometimes a man gets carried away, when he feels like he should be having his fun And much too blind to see the damage he's done
Sometimes a man must awake to find that really, he has no-one

So i'll wait for you... and i'll burn
Will I ever see your sweet return
Oh will I ever learn

Oh lover, you should've come over
'Cause it's not too late

Lonely is the room, the bed is made, the open window lets the rain in
Burning in the corner is the only one who dreams he had you with him
My body turns and yearns for a sleep that will never come

It's never over, my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder
It's never over, all my riches for her smiles when i slept so soft against her
It's never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter
It's never over, she's the tear that hangs inside my soul forever

Well maybe i'm just too young
To keep good love from going wrong

Oh... lover, you should've come over
'Cause it's not too late

Well I feel too young to hold on
And i'm much too old to break free and run
Too deaf, dumb, and blind to see the damage i've done
Sweet lover, you should've come over
Oh, love well i'm waiting for you

Lover, you should've come over
'Cause it's not too late

Lover, You Should've Come Over, Jeff Buckley

"Meu, isto é alma!" O dvd passava e nós, sentados por ali e por aqui, um bocado de álcool a mais uns, something else outros, ouvíamos. ... e ele inclinava a cabeça para trás, passava a mão nos cabelos, olhava-o no écran e semicerrava os olhos, já pequeninos... "Isto é alma, pá." Exacto, meu, alma em estado puro.

I am

I am a bird girl now

I've got my heart

Here in my hands now

I've been searching

For my wings some time

I'm gonna be born

Into soon the sky

'Cause I'm a bird girl

And the bird girls go to heaven

I'm a bird girl

And the bird girls can fly

Bird girls can fly

Antony and the Johnsons, "Bird Gerhl"

When love speaks

Soneto 130
... um dos meus favoritos do disco, culpa do Alan Rickman.
Estava na Hipátia, ora vejam também...

Hoppípolla

Nanny, aqui está. Faz bem à alma.
Miau para ti.

Irlanda, Setembro de 1990

Knock
(Christy Moore)

At the early age of thirty-eight Me mother said 'Go West!'
'Get up, ' says she. 'and get a job'. Says I, 'I'll do my best'
I pulled on me Wellingtons to march to Kiltimagh
But I took a wrong turn in Charlestown and ended up in Knock

Oh once this quiet crossroads was a place of gentle prayer
Where Catholics got indulgent once or twice a year.
You could buy a pair of rosary beads or get your candles blessed
If you had a guilty conscience you could get it off your chest.

Then came the priest form Partry father Horan was his name
And since he's been appointed Knock has never been the same.
'Begod,' says Jem, 'tis eighty years since Mary was adout.'
'Tis time for another miracle.' and he blew the candle out.

CHORUS
From Fatima to Bethlehem, from Lourdes to Kiltimagh,
There's never been a miracle like the airport up in Knock

To establish terra firma he draw up a ten year plan
And started running dances around 1961.
He built a fantabulous church, Go h-álainn, on the holy ground
And once he had a focal point he started to expand

Chip shops and Bed and Breakfasts sprung up over night.
Once a place for quiet retreats now a holy sight.
All sorts of fancy restaurants for every race and creed
Where black and white and yellow pilgrims all could get a feed

The stalls once under canvas became religious supermarts
With such a range o' godly goods, they had top twenty charts.
While the airport opposition was destroyed by James' trump card.
For centenary celebrations he got John Paul the twenty-third

CHORUS
From Fatima to Bethlehem, from Lourdes to Kiltimagh,
There's never been a miracle like the airport up in Knock

'We had the Blessed virgin here,' Bold Jamesie did declare,
'And Pope John Paul the twenty-third appeared just over there.'
'Now do you mean to tell me', he said in total shock,
'That I am not entitled to an airport here in Knock.'

TD's were lobbied and harassed with talk of promised votes
And people who'd been loyal for years now spoke of changing coats.
Eternal damnation was threatened on the flock
Who said it was abortive building airports up in Knock

Now everyone is happy the miracle is complete.
Father Horan's got his runway, it's eighteen thousand feet
All sorts of planes could land there, of that there's little doubt,
handy for the George Bush to keep knock Gadaffi out.

CHORUS
From Fatima to Bethlehem, from Lourdes to Kiltimagh,
There's never been a miracle like the airport up in Knock

Did NATO donate, me boys, did NATO donate the dough?
Did NATO donate, me Girls, did NATO donate the dough?
Did NATO donate the dough, the dough, did NATO donate the dough?
Eighteen thousand feet of runway is an awful long way to go.

(Foster & Allen - popular Irish folk duo)
(TDs - Teachtarai Dail, Members of the Irish Parliament)

Amor, que fizemos nós a esta "tape"? Mais uma "missing in action". Deve ter ido parar ao "bruscar"...

Intervention

Keys taken back I throw
The people they all grow
And choose what they want written on their stone
All quiet and alone

You can taste the fear
Lift me up and take me out of here
I know I want to fight I want to die
Just tell me what to say

Working for the church while your family dies
Little baby sister gonna lose her mind
Every spark of friendship and love will die without a hope

Hear the soldiers groan
All quiet and alone

There’s something in the air
The people they all sit and stare
And tell me what they point to tell me where
And tell me…

Who’s gonna throw the very first stone?
Whose gonna re-set the bone?
Sitting with his head in a sling
I hear the soldier sing

Working for the church while your family dies
Little baby sister gonna lose her mind
Every spark of friendship and love will die without a hope

Hear the soldiers groan
All quiet and alone

Sunshine light
Someone teach me how to fly
And onto something for wish I would die, but I just don’t know what
Though I can taste the fear
Lift me up and take me out of here
And make it all concisely clear
You know I’m gonna fade

Working for the church while your family dies
Little baby sister gonna lose her mind
Every spark of friendship and love will die without a hope

Hear the soldiers groan
All quiet and alone
Hear the soldiers groan
All quiet and alone

Arcade Fire "Intervention"

Boas Festas Boas

The Pogues and Kirsty MacColl - Fairytale of New York

É a minha canção de Natal, deixo-a aqui para vocês.
Votos de Festas Boas, muitas e onde melhor vos aprouver.
Cuidem-se bem.
Beijos