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.