Saturday, January 26, 2008

La Oreja de Van Gogh - guapa

I also like the LOVG's last album guapa, celebrating the 10th anniversary of the group’s formation, which I bought on my last trip to Barcelona:


guapa (Beautiful) is the story of a person who refuses to give up on the marvellous journey to find themself”, writes La Oreja de Van Gogh in the insert for guapa, their fourth studio album.
LOVG says, guapais the story of a person who makes time a secret ally which, each morning in front of the mirror of the soul, will make them feel just that little bit more beautiful”.
Ten years have passed since Pablo Benegas, Xabi San Martín, Álvaro Fuentes and Haritz Garde persuaded Amaia Montero to become the voice of a group which was just starting out, and which could offer her little more than a dream.

The album opens with Noche (Night, “Son tan fuertes mis latidos, que el sonido de mi voz no se escucha cuando a gritos pide que me haga mayor” – “My heart beats so loudly that it drowns out the sound of my voice crying out for me to grow”), a medium tempo in the style of LOVG rock. The first single of the album is Muñeca de trapo (Rag Doll “Me abrazaría al diablo sin dudar, por ver tu cara al escucharme hablar” – “I would embrace the devil just to see your face as you listen to my words”), which starts off with the voice of Amaia shrouded in synthesizers and a crescendo leading to a chorus full of energy and backed by harsh, distorted guitars. A strong song, halfway between ballad and medium tempo, dealing with the themes which recur throughout the album: silence, lack of communication, the lost, the impossible... a bridge which links guapa with the previous work of LOVG.

Dulce locura (Sweet madness, “Vendo el inventario de recuerdos de la historia más bonita que en la vida escuché” – “I sell the stock of memories of the most beautiful story I ever heard”) is another song of longing which mixes a classically phrased piano with the intensity of rock. Perdida (Lost, “Yo crucé la línea blanca un día, fue una noche con su amanecer. Puse un par de rombos en mi vida, hice un viaje al mundo que no ves” – “I crossed the white line one day, it was a night turning to dawn. I placed a sign upon my life and travelled to the world you do not see”) has a certain gospel air before changing to dramatic pop style. Vuelve (Come back, “Un cumpleaños más sin ti, un regalo sin abrir” – “Another birthday without you, another unopened present”) maintains the level of intensity and deals with abandonment over a base of distorted guitars and synthesizers. Escapar (Escape, “De pronto tú, y mi reloj vuelve a marcar el tiempo. De pronto yo, y tú tan guapo que ni sabes verlo” - “Suddenly you, and once again my watch marks time. Suddenly me, and you so handsome you don’t even see it”) is a song of hope combining reggae and pop, a seal of identity on all LOVG records.

The halfway point on guapa comes with Irreversible (“Como hacer un surco en un vinilo o pintar un trazo en un Van Gogh, mi corazón se ha vuelto irreversible desde el momento que el destino lo marcó” - “Like scoring a groove on a vinyl record or a painting a brush stroke on a Van Gogh, there is no turning back for my heart since the moment it was touched by fate”), a ballad which starts off with acoustic guitars and tremolo which give it a classical feel. A diez centímetros de ti (Ten centimetres away from you, “A diez centímetros de ti, a diez años luz de mañana, que importan las ciencias exactas si tú and yo somos así” – “Ten centimetres away from you, ten light years away from tomorrow, what does science matter if this is the way we are”) shows LOVG’s more electronic and dynamic side, but is also seasoned with rock. The song V.O.S. (Original language with subtitles, “Si algún día nos cruzamos, no respondas ni hagas caso a los subtítulos que bajo mi sonrisa sabes ver” - “If we should meet one day, do not respond or pay heed to the subtitles you see below my smile”) has a free and easy style with a certain aroma of old cabaret, of the seventies.

Apareces tú
(And you appear, “Y de repente apareces tú, mientras me hablas hago que estoy dormida” - “And suddenly you appear, and while you talk to me I pretend to be asleep”) has a certain flavour of the sixties in the chorus, while Manhattan (“Sola en el hotel de la calle del Perdón, los recuerdos con espinas dirán que te he roto el corazón” – “Alone in the hotel on the street of Forgiveness, the memories with thorns will say I broke your heart”) begins with Bacharach-style harmonies which lead to a rock overlaid with frontier melancholy. And the album finishes with Mi vida sin ti (My life without you, “Un día más vuelve a empezar, duerme la luna en San Sebastián. Busco café, oigo llover and pienso en ti” – “Yet another day begins, the moon sleeps in San Sebastián. I look for a place to have a coffee, I hear the rain and think of you”), which begins with a bossa nova rythmn and ends in dance style with a flavour of the sea. This is the end of guapa which, as with other LOVG albums, has a hidden surprise. Cuantos cuentos cuento (How many tales I tell, “Y es que a veces no puedo evitar que se escapen volando mis mil mariposas que sueñan contigo a diario” – “Sometimes I cannot stop my thousands of butterflies that dream of you each day from flying away”), is a true Mexican-style folk song, with mariachi and accordion included, which unites feelings and cultures.
You can find more about them on group's website and in here.

Thursday, January 24, 2008

Julieta Venegas - Limón y Sal

I like a lot Julieta Venegas's album, Limón y Sal.


Here you can find her Discography, the Lyrics
and some info.

Esta ternura

Esta ternura y estas manos libres,
¿a quién darlas bajo el viento ? Tanto arroz
para la zorra, y en medio del llamado
la ansiedad de esa puerta abierta para nadie.
Hicimos pan tan blanco
para bocas ya muertas que aceptaban
solamente una luna de colmillo, el té
frío de la vela la alba.
Tocamos instrumentos para la ciega cólera
de sombras y sombreros olvidados. Nos quedamos
con los presentes ordenados en una mesa inútil,
y fue preciso beber la sidra caliente
en la vergüenza de la medianoche.
Entonces, ¿nadie quiere esto,
nadie?
Julio Cortázar - Pameos y meopas (1971)