petek, 14. januar 2011

Nikjer, sedaj.

Če neka pesem vsakič pride na misel kot prvi izbor za morda najljubšo pesem vseh časov, bo že nekaj na njej. To morda ne drži in če bi do takega izbora dejansko prišlo, pod pritiskom teh mučnih in nadvse pomembnih miselnih procesov morda ne bi vzdržala. Pa vendar: tukaj je v vsej svoji veličini. Pove nam, kako razmišljamo, kako čutimo, in se sploh ne trudi orisati, zakaj. Vsak zagovarja svoj prav, v katerega še verjame ne, razen če je skrajno neumen, pa še tedaj se le pretvarja. V tej praznini prenapihnjenega niča zato hrepimo po odrešitvi, predpisana sredstva zanjo pa dosledno zavračamo v imenu razuma. Pa saj smo pametni ljudje. In če ponoči slabo spimo, če se premetavamo in kotalimo med rjuhami, so kriva škropiva in špricarji in še kaj. Le naše nemirne misli ne. Njihova krivda je le v tem, da nas silijo početi vse, za kar v svojem razširjenem razumevanju dobro vemo, da nam škoduje. Tako telesno kot umsko, če kaj takega sploh obstaja. Vprežene v vajeti navad nas policaj v glavi pijane prosi, naj se vendar sprehodimo po liniji najmanjšega odpora. Z njo smo nato tako prezaposleni, da vse velike geste ostanejo brez koga, ki bi jih bil pripravljen deliti s svetom. Ali vsaj s kom izmed nas. In nato šest besed naslika naš položaj. We are nowhere and it's now.



If you hate the taste of wine 
Why do you drink it until you're blind? 
And if you swear that there's no truth and who cares
How come you say it like you're right?

Why are you scared to dream of God 
When it's salvation that you want? 
You see stars that clear have been dead for years 
But the idea just lives on 

In our wheels that roll around 
As we move over the ground
And all day it seems we've been in between 
The past and future town


We are nowhere and it's now
We are nowhere and it's now

And like a ten minute dream in the passenger seat 
While the world was flying by
I haven't been gone very long 
But it feels like a lifetime 


I've been sleeping so strange at night
Side effects they don't advertise
I've been sleeping so strange 
With a head full of pesticide


I've got no plans and too much time
I feel too restless to unwind
I'm always lost in thought as I walk the block 
To my favorite neon sign 

Where the waitress looks concerned
But she never says a word
Just turns the jukebox on and we hum along 
And I smile back at her

And my friend comes after work 
When the features start to blur
She says these bars are filled with things that kill
By now you probably should have learned 


Did you forget that yellow bird?
How could you forget your yellow bird?

She took a small silver wreath and pinned it on to me
She said, "This one will bring you love" 
And I don't know if it's true
But I keep it for good luck

sobota, 8. januar 2011

To ni Kanada, pa vendar.

Redki, a lepi so trenutki, ko neka pesem tako popolno opiše počutje nekega trenutka v času. Preprosta, nežna, dovzetna, skorajda resignirana. V tem trenutku je vsakdo John K. Samson in vsak domači kraj je Winnipeg. Ljubezen, ki je tako grenka, pa vendar vseobsegajoča. Umazane preproge, prazni pločniki, škatla vžigalic. O vetru, o snegu ni govora, pa ju vendar čutiš na svoji koži. Hladno je; to je gotovo. Veter pa prinaša piš zgodovine, katere groba prisotnost se odslika v zavrženih rojstnodnevnih voščilnicah. Ta preteklost je dvomestna, a neskončna. Iz sedanjosti v prihodnost pa si upamo le v previdnem štiričetrtinskem taktu.



My city's still breathing, but barely, it's true
Through buildings gone missing like teeth
The sidewalks are watching me think about you
Sparkled with broken glass

I'm back with scars to show
Back with the streets I know
Will never take me anywhere but here

The stain in the carpet, this drink in my hand
The strangers whose faces I know
We meet here for our dress rehearsal to say,
"I wanted it this way"
 
Wait for the year to drown
Spring forward, fall back down
I'm trying not to wonder where you are

All this time
Lingers undefined
Someone choose
Who's left and who's leaving

Memory will rust and erode into lists
Of all that you gave me
A blanket, some matches, this pain in my chest
The best part of lonely

Duct tape and soldered wires
New words for old desires
And every birthday card I threw away

I wait in 4/4 time
Count yellow highway lines
That you're relying on to lead you home

ponedeljek, 3. januar 2011