Baustelle – La canzone del parco


Baustelle

The german name was chosen only because it sounded good to Francesco Bianconi, talented author (maybe less as a singer) that works for his Baustelle but also for other pop singers in Italy and as a novelist. Baustelle often try to stay in a “pop environment” musically, but the lyrics are somewhat complicated and usually taking care of social issues or broken relationships. First amazing album “Sussidiario illustrato della giovinezza” was published in 2000, unfortunately the best one in my opinion (“La moda del lento”) is not available on Spotify.

La canzone del parco is another song from Baustelle’s debut “Sussidiario illustrato della giovinezza”, published in 2000. They aren’t my favourite band, but i’ve recently re-discovered their older songs. This one keeps a low tempo while Rachele Bastreghi sings the story of two youngsters who explore love and sex. “Tomorrow is far away” when they love each other. In the park a tree, in which they apparently carved an heart, witnesses their story and tells it from its own point of view. As opposed to its “eternal being”, it can only admit how these transient moments and feelings aren’t understandable and wonder what “these fragile humans” think of. A perfect depiction of the beautyness of ephemeral things.

“La canzone del parco”

Lui e lei ridono
Umidi baciano
Parole lievi
Leggère le piume

Se lui e lei fragili
Indecisioni
Al solito posto
La solita ora

Se lei e lui sabato
Dopo la scuola
Lo fanno sul serio
La colomba vola

 

Domani è lontano
Domani è lontano
Se mi ami ora

Se lui e lei ridono
Umidi baciano
Parole lievi
Leggère le piume

Se lei e lui timidi
Umidi scrivono platani
Con incisione di cuori
Sinceri se dicono
‘ti voglio bene’
Il parco sorride
La stagione viene

Se lei e lui nuvole
Di desideri
Si toccano puri
Il prato respira
Domani è lontano
Domani è lontano
Se mi ami ora
Domani è lontano
Se mi ami ora

Penso che
Ho di nuovo i brividi
E mi lascio prendere
Da domande inutili
Da poeti poveri
Sui miei rami umidi
Sulle foglie ultime
A che cosa pensano
Questi umani fragili

A che cosa servono
I miei rami stupidi
A che cosa servono
Se mi lascio prendere
Da pensieri inutili
Posso solo esistere
In eterno vivere
Senza avere gli attimi
Degli amanti giovani
Degli amori giovani

A che cosa pensano
Questi umani fragili
A che cosa servono
I miei rami stupidi
A che cosa servono
Se mi lascio prendere
Da pensieri inutili
A che cosa?

“The park’s song” 

He and she laugh
Wet they kiss
Soft words
Light the feathers

If he and her fragile
Incertitudes
At the usual place
The usual time

If she and he Saturday
After school
Do it for real
The dove flies [*maybe a reference to Leonard Cohen, “but remember when I moved in you /
and the holy dove was moving too”
]

Tomorrow is far away,
Tomorrow is far away
If you love me now

If he and she laugh
Wet they kiss
Soft words
Light are the feathers

If she and he shy
Wet they write plane trees
With carving of hearts
Heartfelt if they say
“I love you”
The park smiles
The season comes

If she and he clouds
of desires
Touch each other pure
The lawn breaths
Tomorrow is far away,
Tomorrow is far away
If you love me now
Tomorrow is far away
If you love me now

I think that
Once again i have shivers
And i get carried away
By useless questions
By poor poets
On my stupid branches
On the last leaves
At what do they think
These fragile humans

What are they for
My stupid branches
What are they for
If i get carried away
By useless thoughts
I can only exist
In eternal living
Without having the moments
Of young lovers
Of young loves

What do they think of
These fragile humans
What are they for
My stupid branches
What are they for
If i get carried away
By useless thoughts
What for?

Baustelle – Gomma


Baustelle

The german name was chosen only because it sounded good to Francesco Bianconi, talented author (maybe less as a singer) that works for his Baustelle but also for other pop singers in Italy and as a novelist. Baustelle often try to stay in a “pop environment” musically, but the lyrics are somewhat complicated and usually taking care of social issues or broken relationships. First amazing album “Sussidiario illustrato della giovinezza” was published in 2000, unfortunately the best one in my opinion (“La moda del lento”) is not available on Spotify.

Gomma is one of the (many) beautiful songs in Baustelle’s debut “Sussidiario illustrato della giovinezza”, published in 2000. A trademark mix of up-tempo music and sharp lyrics, this time talking about high school times, adolescents having sex and drugs in an otherwise boring context. The use of italian language in this song is not really proper one, definitely not the best to learn grammar from, but lexicon is interesting and inspiring.

“Gomma”

Settembre spesso ad aspettarti
e giorni scarni tutti uguali
fumavo venti sigarette
e groppi in gola e secca sete di te

tue cartoline-condoglianze
“hello bastardo ci vediamo”
l’adolescenza che spedivi
sulle mie tenebre incestuose-osé
ed il futuro stava fuori
dalla new wave da liceale
così speravo di ammalarmi
o perlomeno che si infettassero i bar

Novembre mio facevi freddo
la fronte frigo il polso a zero
sporcare specchi era narcosi
“potrei scambiare i miei ‘Le Ore’ con te ?”

Tremavo un po’ di doglie blu
e di esistenza inutile
vibravo di vertigine
di lecca-lecca e zuccheri

Vespe d’agosto in caldo sciame
per provinciali bagni al fiume
mi pettinavo un po’ all’indietro
superficiali ricreative pietà

Sabato sera dentro un buco
e disco-gomma-americana
leccavo caramelle amare
e primavere già sfiorite con te

E già ti odiavo dal profondo
avevo piombo da sparare
se stereofonico posavo
d’imbarazzante giovinezza lamé

E fantascienza ed erezioni
che mi sfioravano le dita
tasche sfondate e pugni chiusi
“avrei bisogno di scopare con te”

Tremavo un po’ di doglie blu
e di esistenza inutile
vibravo di vertigine
di lecca-lecca e zuccheri

“Gum” 

September often waiting for you
and gaunt days one like the other.
I was smoking twenty cigarettes
and lumps in throat and dry thirst of you.

Your postcards-condolences
“Hello bastard, see you”
Adolescence that you were sending
on my incestuous and risqué darkness.
And the future stayed outside
of the high school new wave.
So i was hoping to get ill
or at least that bars get infected.

November mine, you were cold,
forehead as a fridge, heartbeat [literally: wrist] zero.
To stain mirrors was narcosis.
“Could i exchange my Le Ore [old italian porn magazine] with you?”

I was trembling a little,
of blue throes
and useless existence.
I was vibrating for dizziness,
of lollypops and sugars.

August’s wasps in hot swarm
for provincial baths in the river.
I was styling my hair a little to the back,
superficial and entertaining mercies.

Saturday night inside an hole
and disco chewing-gum.
I was licking bitter candies
and already faded Springs with you.

And i was already hating you from within.
I had lead to fire
if stereophonic i was posing
of embarrassing laminated youth.

And sci-fi and hard-ons
that brushed my fingers.
Broken pockets, closed fists.
“I’d need to fuck with you”.

I was trembling a little,
of blue throes
and useless existence.
I was vibrating for dizziness,
of lollypops and sugars.

Baustelle – L’aeroplano

Baustelle

The german name was chosen only because it sounded good to Francesco Bianconi, talented author (maybe less as a singer) that works for his Baustelle but also for other pop singers in Italy and as a novelist. Baustelle often try to stay in a “pop environment” musically, but the lyrics are somewhat complicated and usually taking care of social issues or broken relationships. First amazing album “Sussidiario illustrato della giovinezza” was published in 2000, unfortunately the best one in my opinion (“La moda del lento”) is not available on Spotify.

L’aeroplano, unlike many other Baustelle songs, is completely left to the wonderful voice of Rachele Bastreghi, who has usually far less space than Bianconi. The stunning line “I love you and i never think about you” returns a sense of regret, as the memory of this former partner just flashes for a moment, like the airplane passing fast in the sky above. At the same time, underlined on purpose by a pause, we hear that “it goes far away, it flies over… Baghdad”, with a hint to the bombers that were attacking Saddam Hussein’s Iraq at the time. Like if from the dreamlike dimension of memories she/he has to get back to the harsh reality.

“L’aeroplano”

Che cosa resta di noi
che scopiamo nel parcheggio
Cosa resta di noi:
un rottame di Volkswagen.

Il ricordo, si sa, trasfigura la realtà
La verità se ne sta sulle stelle più lontane
Ci rimane una città,
un lavoro sempre uguale
Una canzone che fa sottofondo
all’indecifrabile.

Cosa rimane di noi,
ragazzini e ragazzine
La domenica dentro le chiese
ad ascoltare la parola di Dio.
Il futuro era una nave tutta d’oro
che noi pregavamo ci portasse via lontano.

Cosa rimane di noi
ora che ci siamo amati ed odiati e traditi
e non c’è più limite.

Sfreccia in cielo un aeroplano
Io ti amo e non ti penso mai
Penso a quello che ci resta
Vola l’aeroplano, Va lontano
Vola su Baghdad
Noi voliamo invano

Che cosa resta degli anni passati ad adorarti
Cosa resta di me
delle bocche che ho baciato in discoteca
Che cosa ne è della nostra relazione
Stupidi noi che piangiamo disperati
Che cosa resta dei sogni che avevamo nella testa
La nostra esperienza a che cosa servirà

Sfreccia in cielo un aeroplano
Io ti amo e non ti penso mai
Penso a quello che ci resta
Vola l’aeroplano, Va lontano
Vola su Baghdad
Noi voliamo invano

“The airplane” 

What’s left of us
who fuck in a parking place.
What’s left of us:
a wreck of Volkswagen.

Memory, it’s known, alters reality.
Truth is on the farthest stars.
What’s left is a city,
a work, always the same.
A song that plays as background
to the indecipherable.

What’s left of us,
little boys and girls.
Sunday in the churches
listening to God’s word.
Future was a golden ship
and we prayed it would have brought us far away.

What’s left of us,
now that we loved and betrayed each other
and there is no limit anymore.

Whizzes in the sky, an airplane. [i keep the subject at the end, T.S. Eliot approves]
I love you and i never think about you.
I think about what’s left for us, flies the airplane,
it goes far away, it flies over Baghdad.
We fly in vain.

What’s left of the years adoring you.
What’s left of me,
of the mouths i kissed in the club.
What happened to our relationship,
stupid us who cry desperate.
What’s left of the dreams we had in our minds,
our experience, what will it be useful for?

Whizzes in the sky, an airplane.
I love you and i never think about you.
I think at what’s left for us, the airplane flies,
it goes far away, it flies over Baghdad.
We fly in vain.

Baustelle – Amanda Lear

Baustelle

The german name was chosen only because it sounded good to Francesco Bianconi, talented author (maybe less as a singer) that works for his Baustelle but also for other pop singers in Italy and as a novelist. Baustelle often try to stay in a “pop environment” musically, but the lyrics are somewhat complicated and usually taking care of social issues or broken relationships. First amazing album “Sussidiario illustrato della giovinezza” was published in 2000, unfortunately the best one in my opinion (“La moda del lento”) is not available on Spotify.

Amanda Lear is the first single from 2017 album “L’amore e la violenza”. The whole record doesn’t seem to be top level, but this disenchanted song titled after the singer (and Salvador Dalì muse) sums in an effective way some themes that Bianconi always liked. Relationships gone wrong and how this is the normal flow of life, as people suffer but keep on partying to get a distraction (like he does, “kissing a slut in an alley”).

“Amanda Lear”

Amore antico, amica mia.
Amore, radio, nostalgia.
Io non ti penso quasi mai
ti ho dato in pasto agli avvoltoi
all’olocausto e ai marinai
Amore atomico, Enola Gay.

Orrore amico, errore mio
che non ti ho detto neanche addio
che non ti ho detto come mai
una domenica buttai nel cesso la fotografia
in cui ci stringevamo forte,
colpa mia
se quest’anno ti hanno visto, mi dicono,
vomitare gli occhi e l’anima a un concerto rock
abbracciata ad una testa di cazzo
un regista un coreografo, che ne so.
Un lavoro come un altro, una droga
per illuderci e credere di essere uomini.

(dicevi)
I wanna be Amanda Lear.
Il tempo di un LP,
il lato A, il lato B
non siamo mica immortali, bruciamo ed è meglio così.
Amanda Lear, soltanto per un LP
il lato A, il lato B
che niente dura per sempre nemmeno la musica.

Perduto amore, anima mia.
Amore, Nona Sinfonia
vorrei sapere come stai
se come scrivi è tutto ok
e se davvero ora lo sai
che sono diventato un mostro,
colpa tua
se mi videro nel buio di un vicolo
all’uscita posteriore di un concerto rock
pomiciare una troietta qualunque,
una tizia, una pittrice, ma che ne so.
Il tuo pessimismo da quattro soldi
chiaramente aveva fatto proseliti

(dicevi)
I wanna be Amanda Lear
il tempo di un LP
il lato A, il lato B
che niente dura per sempre, finisce ed è melgio così
Amanda Lear, soltanto per un LP
il lato A, il lato B
che niente dura per sempre figurati io e te

“Amanda Lear” 

Old love, my friend.
Love, radio, nostalgia.
I don’t think about you, almost never,
i gave you to the vultures
to the Holocaust, to the sailors.
Atomic love, Enola Gay. [name of the plane that dropped the nuclear bomb on Hiroshima]

Friendly horror, my error
as i even haven’t said goodbye
as i haven’t told you why
a Sunday i threw in the toilet the picture
in which we hugged close,
my fault
if they tell me they saw you this year
puking eyes and soul at a rock concert,
hugging an asshole,
a director, a choreographer, i don’t know.
A job like any other, a drug
to deceive ourselves and believe we are men

(You used to say)
I wanna be Amanda Lear.
The time of an LP [a vinyl Long Playing]
side A, side B
we are not immortal, we burn and it’s better this way.
Amanda Lear, only for an LP,
side A, side B
as nothing lasts forever, not even the music.

Lost love, my soul.
Love, Ninth Symphony, [Beethoven’s]
i’d like to know how you are,
if it’s all fine as you write
and if now you really know
that i became a monster,
your fault
if they saw me in the dark of an alley
at the back exit of a rock concert
kissing a slut like any other,
someone, a painter, i don’t know.
Your cheap pessimism
clearly made proselytes.

(You used to say)
I wanna be Amanda Lear.
The time of an LP,
side A, side B
as nothing lasts forever, it ends and it’s better this way.
Amanda Lear, only for an LP,
side A, side B
as nothing lasts forever, how could me and you.

Baustelle – Charlie fa surf

Baustelle

The german name was chosen only because it sounded good to Francesco Bianconi, talented author (maybe less as a singer) that works for his Baustelle but also for other pop singers in Italy and as a novelist. Baustelle often try to stay in a “pop environment” musically, but the lyrics are somewhat complicated and usually taking care of social issues or broken relationships. First amazing album “Sussidiario illustrato della giovinezza” was published in 2000, unfortunately the best one in my opinion (“La moda del lento”) is not available on Spotify.

Charlie fa surf, published in 2008 album “Amen”, is a typical Baustelle song, with a catchy sound paired with fiercely critical lyrics. Direct inspiration is Charlie don’t surf, work of italian contemporary artist Maurizio Cattelan depicting a student nailed to his desk by two pencils sticked in his hands, but going back to the original meaning would lead to the masterpiece movie Apocalypse Now (here the scene with that line) and the Clash song “Charlie don’t surf”. The song in some ways make fun of the youngsters that are mainstream even in what they believe is their “transgression”.

“Charlie fa surf”

Vorrei morire a quest’età.
Vorrei star fermo mentre il mondo va.
Ho quindici anni.
Programmo la mia drum-machine
e suono la chitarra elettrica.
Vi spacco il culo.

E’ questione d’equilibrio,
non è mica facile.

Charlie fa surf, quanta roba si fa, MDMA
Ma ha le mani inchiodate.
Se Charlie fa skate, non abbiate pietà.
Crocifiggetelo.
Sfiguratelo in volto con la mazza da golf.
Alleluja, alleluja.

Mi piace il metal e l’ r’n’b.
Ho scaricato tonnellate di filmati porno.
Vado in chiesa e faccio sport.
Prendo pastiglie che contengono paroxetina.

Io non voglio crescere.
Andate a farvi fottere.

Charlie fa surf, quanta roba si fa, MDMA
Ma ha le mani inchiodate
da un mondo di grandi e di preti.
Fa skate, non abbiate pietà.
Una mazza da baseball, quanto bene gli fa.
Alleluja, Alleluja.

“Charlie surfs” 

I’d like to die at this age.
I’d like to stay still while the world spins.
I’m fifteen.
I program my drum-machine
and play electric guitar.
I’ll kick your ass.

It’s a matter of balance,
it’s not easy.

Charlie surfs, how much dope that he takes, MDMA
But his hands are nailed.
If Charlie skates, have no mercy.
Crucify him.
Disfigure his face with a golf bat.
Halleluja, Halleluja.

I like heavy metal and R’n’B.
I downloaded tons of porn videos.
I go to church and do sports.
I take pills that contain paroxetine.

I don’t want to grow up.
Go fuck yourselves.

Charlie surfs, how much dope that he takes, MDMA
But his hands are nailed
by a world of adults and priests.
He skates, have no mercy.
A baseball bat, how good it’s for him.
Halleluja, Halleluja.