Comença Tràfic d'Estraccions amb Núria Calvó.
Bona nit, us saludem des de Tarragona Ràdio, des d'aquest espaiet de mitja hora setmanal que es diu Tràfic d'Estraccions.
I avui en farem una de les nostres. Avui lligarem dos personatges aparentment allunyats, o potser no tant,
en un dels nostres xocs d'analogies que ens transporten de punta a punta del món a través de la música, esclar.
Us donem ja totes les pistes de cop. L'Urit i Mike Amakovsky, units per Edgar Allan Poe.
I amb una incursió, que benvinguda sigui, per part de Ràdio Futura.
Tota la música que escoltarem avui és basada en textos, en poemes, bàsicament, de l'autor anglès, britànic, Edgar Allan Poe.
I comencem escoltant la Mike Amakovsky, amb un tema que es diu A Dream Within A Dream, un somni dins del somni.
I comencem escoltant la Mike Amakovsky, amb un somni dins del somni.
A Dream Within A Dream.
I comencem escoltant la Mike Amakovsky, amb un somni dins del somni.
A Dream Within A Dream.
I comencem escoltant la Mike Am babà.
A Dream Within A Dream
A dream, a dream within, a dream.
A dream, a dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream, a dream.

A dream, a dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream, a dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream, a dream, a dream.
My pulse was racing.
A dream, a dream, a dream, a dream.
A dream, a dream, a dream.
Came again, infernal tapping on the door
And in my mind jabbing
Is it in or outside rapping
Calling out to me once more
The fit and fury of Lenore
Nameless here forevermore
And the silken sad uncertain
Rustling of the purple curtain
Thrilled me, filled me
With fantastic terrors never felt before
So that now, oh wind, stop breathing
Hoping yet to calm my breathing
Tis some visitor entreating entrance
At my chamber door
Some lost visitor entreating entrance
At my chamber door
This is it and nothing more
Deep into the darkness peering
Long I stood there
Wandering, fearing, doubting
Dreaming fantasies no mortal dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken
And the stillness gave no token
And the only word there spoken
Was the whispered name, Lenore
This I thought
And out loud whispered from my lips
The foul name festered
Echoing itself
Merely this and nothing more
Back into my chamber
Turning every nerve within me
Burning when once again
I heard a tapping
Somewhat louder than before
Surely, said I
Surely that is something
At my iron staircase
Open the door to see what thread is
Open the window
Free the shutters
Let us this mystery explore
Oh, bursting heart
Be still this once
And let this mystery explore
It is the wind and nothing more
Just one epithet I muttered
As inside I gagged and shuddered
When with manly flirt and flutter
In there flew a stately raven
Sleek and ravenous as any foe
Not the least obeisance made
He not a minute's gesture
Toward me of recognition or politeness
But perched above my chamber door
This foul and salivating visage
Insinuating with its knowledge
Perched above my chamber door
Silent sat and staring
Nothing more
Ascance, askew, the self-said fancy
Smiles at you, I swear
At this savage, vicious countenance it wears
Though you show here
Shorn and shaven
And I admit myself forlorn and craven
Ghastly grim and ancient raven
Wandering from the opiate shores
Tell me what thy lordly name is
That you are not nightmare sewage
Some dire powdered drink or inhalation
Framed from flames of downtown lore
Quoth the raven
Nevermore
And the raven, sitting lonely
Staring sickly at my male sex only
That one word
As if his soul in that one word
He did outpour
Pathetic
Nothing farther than
He uttered not a feather
That he fluttered
Till finally was I that muttered
As I stared dully at the floor
Other friends have flown and left me
Flown as each and every hope
Has flown before
As you no doubt will for the morrow
But the bird said
Nevermore
Then I felt the air grow denser
Perfume from some unseen incense
As though accepting angelic intrusion
When in fact I felt collusion
Before the guise of false memories
Respite
Respite through the haze
Of cocaine's glory
I smoke and smoke
The blue vial's glory
To forget at once
The base Lenore
Quoth the raven
Nevermore
Prophet, said I
Thing of evil
Prophet still
If bird or devil
By that heaven
That bend above us
By that god
We both ignore
Tell this soul
With sorrow laden
Willful and destructive intent
How had lapsed
A pure-heart lady
To the greediest of needs
Sweaty, arrogant
Dickless liar
Who ascribed to nothing higher
Than a jab
From prick to needle
Straight to betrayal
And disgrace
The conscience showing
Not a trace
Quoth the raven
Nevermore
Be that word
Our sign of parting
Bird or fiend
I yelled up starting
Get thee back
Into the tempest
Into the smoke-filled
Bottle shore
Leave no black plume
As a token
Of the slime
Thy soul has spoken
Leave my loneliness unbroken
Quit as those have quit before
Take the talon
From my heart
And see that I can care
No more
Whatever mattered
Came before
I vanished
With the dead Lenore
Quoth the raven
Nevermore
But the raven
Never flitting
Still is sitting
Silent
Sitting above a painting
Silent painting
Of the forever
Silenced horror
In his eyes
Have all the seeming
Of a demon
That is dreaming
And the lamplight
Over him streaming
Throws his shadow
To the floor
I love she
Who hates me more
I love she
Who hates me more
And my soul
Shall not be lifted
From that shadow
Nevermore
I després d'aquesta sobredosi de poesia
Tornem a la Mike Kamakovsky
Que tal com la recordàvem
Era una rockera precoç
Va passar pel zero
Un parell de vegades
Quan segur que encara no tenia
Ni els 20 anys
I llavors ens va demostrar
Que sap ser l'Higgy Pop
I la PJ Harvey
Quan convé
Com li dóna la gana
En cada disc
Ha anat afinant la producció
I ampliant els seus registres vocals
Que de vegades
Arriben a ser sorprenents
Que se'n van delegut el greu
Amb una facilitat espaterrant
Ella no va dubtar
Anar a formar-se al Yankee
Aquí potser una petita connexió
Amb l'Urit
I ara escoltarem
Un altre exemple
Del resultat
Que va donar això
Si més no
En l'anglès
Que també el pronuncia
Superbé
Escoltem ara
Del disc
Desaparecer
Iron Bells
Iron Bells
Iron Bells
Tolling, tolling, tolling
Iron Bells
Tolling, tolling, tolling
Iron Bells
Tolling, tolling, tolling
Iron Bells
Toyning, tolling, tolling
Iron Bells
Iron Bells
Trolling, tolling, tolling
Iron Bells
Trolling, tolling, tolling
And he dancies and he yells
To the proning
Of the bells, bells, bells
Trolling, trolling women
Iron bells
Trolling, tolling, tolling
Iron bells
Trolling, tolling, tolling
Too much for a fight
To speak out a tune
They can only string them bells
Trolling, tolling, tolling
Iron bells
Trolling, tolling, tolling
Iron bells
Trolling, tolling
Trolling
That moth
Trolling, tolling
Tolling
Tolling
I
Tording
Tolling
En el disc The Raven, aquest que va dedicar, entre altres,
a textos d'Edgar Allen Poe,
l'Hurrit es va acompanyar de Patums,
els seus músics habituals, ell mateix, l'Hurrit,
el Mike Redke, el Fernando Saunders i el Tony Smith,
però recitaven aquí actors com Elizabeth Tessley,
Steve Buscemi, el William Dafoe, que és el que hem escoltat,
la Amanda Plummer, Fisher Stevens i Kate Walk.
I com a convidats d'honor tindríem la Laurie Anderson,
l'Anthony, David Bowie, Ornette Coleman,
The Blind Boys of Alabama, Kate and Anna McGarrigal,
és a dir, la crem de la crem.
I ara sí, escoltarem l'Hurrit.
sonant a l'Hurrit, 100%,
amb el tema que li he dedicat a l'autor d'aquests textos,
a l'Edgar Allen Poe.
i ara sí, escoltarem l'Hurrit, la crem de la crem de la crem,
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!


Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
Fins demà!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
i per acabar no ens en podem estar de recuperar una preciosa adaptació que els Radio Futura van fer a la cancion de Juan Perro, el seu fantàstic álbum del 1987, del poema Annabelle Lee.
i una vegada vam poder llegir el text original i vam flipar descobrint que suposo que devia ser el Santiago Osseron que la va clavar la traducció.
És brutal! Sentim-la!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!
!