Russian Red - I Love Your Glasses [2008]
El mundo indie tiene un concepto de la fidelidad tan cercano como el que profesaba Enrique VIII a sus esposas, encumbrando a artistas y grupos cada año y olvidándoles un par de meses después. Una prueba de la futilidad de su música y de su condición como hype. Pero este año parece ser que ha habido suerte, ella se llama Lourdes Hernández y ha venido a quedarse. Porque es esta mujer la que está detrás del proyecto Russian Red y de su excelente álbum debut, “I Love Your Glasses”. Un LP que la ha valido la comparación con artistas consolidadas como Cat Power o Feist. De este tipo de comparaciones grandilocuentes hablaba cuando citaba la constancia indie, el primer paso está dado y ha sido bueno, pero esperemos a que haga un disco redondo como “The Reminder” (al que homenajea en la portada) o componga un par de “Metal Heart”. Por el momento, estamos ante doce introspectivos temas con una tónica folkie dominante. Las dudas que puedan despertar este tipo de catalogación se diluyen al escuchar los primeros compases de la simple (que no simplista) “Cigarettes”. De su aparente simplicidad, radica su fuerza en la interpretación en este tema; una tónica que se irá repitiendo a lo largo de los cuarenta y dos minutos del disco. El turno es para la deliciosa “No Past Land”, que llega a recordar a Jenny Lewis o a
(Ante la polémica de las notas, yo la pongo un 9)
Russian Red "They Don’t Believe"
Russian Red "Crying (Roy Orbison cover)" (live in The Living 25/01/2008)
http://www.liveintheliving.es/
5 August 2008 a las 08:37 am
Discazo. Esa mujer me pone los pelos de punta. Te responderé acá lo que posteaste en mi columna sobre las notas y estrellas. Te cuento que yo escribo en una revista de música y NO nos piden que pongamos notas o estrellas, porque sabemos que es una idiotez.
Saludos, Antoine Doinel, a mí también me gusta Truffaut.
5 August 2008 a las 09:15 am
a mí en la revista sí que me piden nota. Realmente el problema de las notas es quedarse únicamente en la cifra, ya que es una soberana estupidez resumir la calidad de un disco (o la ausencia de ella) en un número (aquí tendríamos que comenzar a discutir la estupidez de las notas en universidades y demás). Así que lo importante es el texto, las sensaciones que despierta el disco y demás boutades que se sueltan en las críticas.
y sí, Russian Red es maravillosa.
8 August 2008 a las 03:06 am
He escuchado algunas pistas en myspace y me parece muy bueno. Leyendo otras opiniones, veo que se alaban sus letras, pero mi nivel de inglés es un poco bajo. ¿alguien podría indicarme cómo conseguir las letras?
8 August 2008 a las 07:47 am
“Cigarettes”
Now tell me what it is, it isn’t fair
’cause I’m wasting time, but it isn’t my heart
it isn’t my fault.
And every situation understands, well
The anecdote of chasing the location to your door,
Yeah yeah… da da…
’cause I’m wasting time, now I’m wasting money again
and all the cigarettes that I have never smoked.
And all the letters that I have never sent, da da…
And he was sitting by the swimming pool
But he was scared, ’cause it wasn’t his time, it wasn’t his chance.
Getting older’s not been on my plans
But it’s never late, it’s never late enough for me to stay, da da…
’cause I’m wasting time, now I’m wasting money again
and all the cigarettes that I have never smoked.
And all the letters that I have never sent, da da…
8 August 2008 a las 07:53 am
“No Past Land”
If my hands weren’t there, like I saw in the stream
of the drawings been made on a full colour screen
if they weren’t to be found, then what else could I be?
If your hands weren’t there, like I saw in my dreams
& the poets we made, had all gone, disappeared
then what else, then what else could I be?
If your hands & my hands strolled together around
if they were to make friends we’d be possibly up
to escape from this world, from this no past land.
If I looked in the windows while walking pass through
if I stared at the willows with my seven black truths
if my eyes were to see what belongs to your mind…
If you’d like, keep perceiving what lies on my back
and your eyes will shine through the glass of my wine
and the windows, the willows, the pillows, and your mouth.
If your hands & my hands strolled together around
if they were to make friends we’d be possibly up
to escape from this world, from this no past land
8 August 2008 a las 07:56 am
“They Don’t Believe”
Walk by the mand who sings a song to the streetlights
and turns out everybody claps, they don’t believe in cabs
they don’t believe in cabs, they don’t believe in cabs.
And they all go wild, but they walk instead
they all go wild, but they walk instead.
Now, talk to the man who’s laying down by the door of a bank
and people don’t rely on the traffic lights, they don’t believe in lights
they don’t believe in lights, they don’t belive it’s… a confusing situation
they all get run over in petrol stations but they rock.
And there are faces on the six AM working crowds
who take the subway from their homes to their lonely nights.
8 August 2008 a las 09:17 am
“Gone, Play On”
This never ending song is scratching, scratching my brain
like a vinyl in desire
this never ending thought is coming and is gone
it’s traveling on a plane on my way.
And in a highway too, as if I speak for you and I say
that you did those things I did in the past, it’s true in a truck I do
keep your stuff in my pocket,
just like I did with the days we flew.
This never ending song is coming and is gone
it’s traveling on a plane on my way.
Gone, play on…
8 August 2008 a las 09:20 am
“Hold It Inside”
I’m not taking, I’m not, I’m not fading
I’m not falling, you’re not, you’re not falling
’cause you just hold it inside, you hold it inside…
I’m not feeling I’m not, I’m not a missed ring
I’m just falling things that aren’t the hole that’s been your life
the hole that’s been their arm.
And all your voices and all, and all your choices
and all my mechanisms to forget, forget you…
All inside I’m not, I’m not finding lies against this
whole established order that I found
inside your little heart, where I don’t fit
you don’t fit, we both don’t fit
nobody fits in there…
I’m just fading away…
Hold it inside.
8 August 2008 a las 09:24 am
“Nice Tick Feathers”
She said hey, won’t you pick me up?
he said, well, what about at nine?
And she wakes up, it’s freezing cold outside
but he’s not there, wherever he may fly…
Barely aware of her reality, she stands right by
the centre of the room.
Feathers, she’s got nice thick feathers
she’s put on, for she wanted to reach the violent kingdom.
Every time, she steps on what she calls
the misery land, for only bats and cops
forgets about his kisses and his voice.
He wore a suit with labels at the front.
Barely aware of her reality, she stands right by
the centre of the room.
Feathers, she’s got nice thick feathers
she’s put on, for she wanted to reach the violent kingdom.
Barely aware of ther reality, she stands right by
the centre of the room.
8 August 2008 a las 09:30 am
“Kiss My Elbow”
And every five minutes I look at the door
and I see you naked.
And there’s a question that comes up to my mind
I wonder whether you are blind.
But if I try to find, it’d be the same old story
time after time.
Oh, oh, show me your eyes, please do
Oh baby, show me your eyes.
And every five minutes I look at the door,
and there you are with your clothes on, you changed this time
now you are kissing my elbow, is that how you say it?
I really have doubts and questions about.
But if I try to find, it’d be the same old story, story, story…
Oh, oh, show me your eyes, please do
Oh baby, show me your eyes.
8 August 2008 a las 09:34 am
“Take Me Home”
It’s your guitar that discovers you wilde
for all I can see is the dark of a sky
and the plumbs in a glass jar of wine.
Take me home, take me home, take me home, don’t know
Take me home, take me home, take me home, don’t know
how I got here, but now you…
Take me home, take me home, take me home, don’t know
take me home, take me home, take me home, don’t know
how I subsist with candled up nights and pure spirits I
don’t know how you dragged me here.
And it’s my guitar that discovers me blind
for all I can see is the clarity side
and the bones someone spat
on the trash from the plumbs…
Take me home, take me home, take me home, don’t know
Take me home, take me home, take me home, don’t know
how I got here, but now you…
Take me home, take me home, take me home, don’t know
how I subsist with candled up nights and pure spirits I
don’t know how you dragged me here.
If you can call the name of our hope
that probably means I’m not there.
Take me home, take me home, take me home, don’t know
how…
8 August 2008 a las 09:38 am
“Walls Are Tired”
Walls are tired, of holding the same old ceilings
words have found their way to stay in
& they don’t let out feelings
It’s written badly but verses say she’s mad & creepy
& the rest of things we kind of know.
They say there’ll never be a girl like her again
with her socks up to her knees & her obsession ’bout bees.
And with her eyes that she uses to touch
Everything, everything she looks at.
Cups are tired of being filled with the same coffee.
The floor can’t stand that people stepping on won’t even say sorry.
They say there’ll never be a girl like her again
with her socks up to her knees & her obsession ’bout bees.
And with her eyes that she uses to touch
everything, everything she looks at.
Don’t stay longer staring at her eyes.
8 August 2008 a las 09:42 am
“Timing Is Crucial”
I’m falling, I’m falling on the bed
that I got ready in my head.
How many times been to places, and places came to me?
Now by the corner of my eye I’m checking the mirrors upside down
And I thought, that timing is crucial in the next step. Timing is crucial.
Don’t believe the lies I said, I was just forcing myself
’cause timing was crucial in the next step, timing is crucial.
Now by the corner of my eye I’m checking the mirrors upside
but they don’t seem to give reflections of what there is behind.
Timing is crucial.
Don’t believe the lies I said, I was just forcing myself
’cause timing was crucial in the next step, timing is crucial.
Don’t forget the lies I said, I was just trying to help ourselves
’cause timing had been crucial from the very first step.
Timing is crucial.
8 August 2008 a las 09:47 am
“Just Like A Wall”
On my way, way to the stars, I found…
You were there, laying down, next to a hole
Oh, hold me
You said, you had faith in God above
But it seemed that you didn’t believe
In reality, in people on earth
In people to whom you’ve given birth
And I forgot to call you
This is just what I do
You stand there just like a wall that
I can’t even try to talk to you.
I wrote down all of your thoughts,
Well, the ones you let me see
When you’re not watching TV.
You said you’d go for a walk
But that was three weeks ago and now
You spend your time counting the pages
Of a second hand bible pocket edition that you have.
And I forgot to call you
This is just what I do
You stand there just like a wall that
I can’t even try to talk to you.
And I forgot to call
This is just how I work
I stand there still like a photo on your hands
That you can’t try to explain yourself.
25 August 2008 a las 07:39 am
merci, merci antoine
11 September 2008 a las 02:15 am
Muchas gracias; y sí, las letras son muy buenas