:)
do "EXIT", de Shugo Tokumaru, de 2008.
O artista é ainda por mim desconhecido, de parte incerta algures no Japão, mas o vídeo é bonito; a música é Linda.
Entretanto encontrei esta crítica ao álbum (que é o seu 3º), com umas analogias que no primeiro parágrafo inicialmente me deixaram com aquele ar de perplexidade, a pensar que estava perante um gémeo ou um clone mental da mariana, mas com o tom coloquial que a joana emprega sempre a tudo o que escreve, e a pensar... "não faço ideia o que este senhor está a tentar dizer com esta história dos macacos"... No entanto, no decorrer vai-se percebendo o sentido. :) (E como me seduziu, tinha de o transcrever (quase) na íntegra...)
A música é sim, universal, e mais que o sentido/significado das palavras, interessa a sua musicalidade, cadência. (Eu gosto de anáforas e aliterações (e da paronomásia.).
(Basicamente, gosto de escritas eufónicas, e tu? :D)
"Listening to Shugo Tokumaru is like watching a documentary about monkeys on TV with the sound on mute, except instead of just watching, you're also watching yourself watching, like you can do in dreams, you know, and you're standing looking over your own shoulder at these animals, which are just like you but different. And the you who is watching TV is thinking, "Man, these things are just like me, but different," and the you watching the you watching TV is thinking, "That guy is pretty stupid, because he doesn't even know that I'm standing back here," and then that you just floats out of the window, climbs a tree, and starts mentally undressing the moon. And that you and the moon engage in what we can only call "love making," though that's not really the best term, for obvious reasons. And when it's all over you smoke a cigarette with the moon, and the moon begins to cry and the tears from the moon drown someone rowing by in a little boat.
You have to believe me when I tell you that guy lives. The second part of that story, the part that TV-watching-you and out-of-body-you doesn't get to see is that the tears of the moon turn that guy into a merman, and he swims around with other merpeople and lives happily ever after. Because on Exit, Shugo Tokumaru is making frenetic, surreal pop music that I have to believe is about hope. It just sounds that way, and I don't understand most of what he's singing anyway.
Which reminds me: in a non-metaphorical way, listening to Shugo is like watching a foreign film with the subtitles off. You can't "know" what's being said (as if you can "know" anything, man, shit), but you can "understand" what's happening. You can feel. And at the end, you can say "that was delirious and beautiful and fun." Listening to Shugo is experiential and visual, and makes my words on his sounds feel clumsy, immature, weak."
cokemachineglow.
(Basicamente, gosto de escritas eufónicas, e tu? :D)
"Listening to Shugo Tokumaru is like watching a documentary about monkeys on TV with the sound on mute, except instead of just watching, you're also watching yourself watching, like you can do in dreams, you know, and you're standing looking over your own shoulder at these animals, which are just like you but different. And the you who is watching TV is thinking, "Man, these things are just like me, but different," and the you watching the you watching TV is thinking, "That guy is pretty stupid, because he doesn't even know that I'm standing back here," and then that you just floats out of the window, climbs a tree, and starts mentally undressing the moon. And that you and the moon engage in what we can only call "love making," though that's not really the best term, for obvious reasons. And when it's all over you smoke a cigarette with the moon, and the moon begins to cry and the tears from the moon drown someone rowing by in a little boat.
You have to believe me when I tell you that guy lives. The second part of that story, the part that TV-watching-you and out-of-body-you doesn't get to see is that the tears of the moon turn that guy into a merman, and he swims around with other merpeople and lives happily ever after. Because on Exit, Shugo Tokumaru is making frenetic, surreal pop music that I have to believe is about hope. It just sounds that way, and I don't understand most of what he's singing anyway.
Which reminds me: in a non-metaphorical way, listening to Shugo is like watching a foreign film with the subtitles off. You can't "know" what's being said (as if you can "know" anything, man, shit), but you can "understand" what's happening. You can feel. And at the end, you can say "that was delirious and beautiful and fun." Listening to Shugo is experiential and visual, and makes my words on his sounds feel clumsy, immature, weak."
cokemachineglow.
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