Respira

¿Quién no recuerda aquel anuncio tan chulo de Swatch de hace ya unos añitos? Siempre me gustó mucho este tema que tenía de fondo y aquí os lo dejo para que lo disfrutéis...

Midge Ure - Breathe

With every waking breath I breathe
I see what life has dealt to me
With every sadness I deny
I feel a chance inside me die

Give me a taste of something new
To touch to hold to pull me through
Send me a guiding light that shines
Across this darkened life of mine

Breathe some soul in me
Breathe your gift of love to me
Breathe life to lay 'fore me
Breathe to make me breathe

For every man who built a home
A paper promise for his own
He fights against an open flow
Of lies and failures, we all know

To those who have and who have not
How can you live with what you've got?
Give me a touch of something sure
I could be happy evermore

Breathe some soul in me
Breathe your gift of love to me
Breathe life to lay 'fore me
To see to make me breathe

Breathe your honesty
Breathe your innocence to me
Breathe your word and set me free
Breathe to make me breathe

This life prepares the strangest things
The dreams we dream of what life brings
The highest highs can turn around
To sow love's seeds on stony ground

Breathe
Breathe

Breathe some soul in me
Breathe your gift of love to me
Breathe life to lay 'fore me
To see to make me breathe

Breathe your honesty
Breathe your innocence to me
Breathe your word and set me free
Breathe to make me breathe

Aquí os dejo uno de los diversos vídeos que se grabaron para esta canción...

Mestizaje tribalista

Aquí va una canción para que practiquéis para el examen de Mara. Es de un grupo "brasileiro" llamado Tribalistas. Es música rollo tribal, de ahí el nombre del grupo. Dos de los integrantes del grupo, Marisa Monte y Arnaldo Antunes, posiblemente no os suenen de nada si no estáis familiarizados (como es mi caso) con el panorama de artistas en aquel país, pero el tercero ya nos hizo bailar por toda la Castellana con su "Samba da Bahia": Carlinhos Brown. Hasta la fecha sólo han grabado un disco juntos, ya que tienen carreras independientes. Parece imposible que tardaran en grabarlo tan sólo 13 días, uno para cada canción...

Tribalistas - Velha Infância

Voce é assim
Um sonho pra mim
E quando eu nao te vejo

Eu penso em voce
Desde o amanhecer
Até quando eu me deito

Eu gosto de voce
E gosto de ficar com voce
Meu riso é tao feliz contigo
O meu melhor amigo é o meu amor

E a gente canta
E a gente danca
E a gente nao se cansa

De ser crianca
A gente brinca
Na nossa velha infância

Seus olhos meu clarao
Me guiam dentro da escuridao
Seus pés me abrem o caminho
Eu sigo e nunca me sinto só

Voce é assim
Um sonho pra mim
Quero te encher de beijos

Eu penso em voce
Desde o amanhecer
Até quando eu me deito

Eu gosto de voce
E gosto de ficar com voce
Meu riso é tao feliz contigo
O meu melhor amigo é o meu amor

E a gente canta
E a gente danca
E a gente nao se cansa

De ser crianca
A gente brinca
Na nossa velha infância

Aquí va la canción...

La tormenta perfecta

Este tema es una versión de la original " A hard rain's a-gonna fall" del gran músico y poeta Bob Dylan. El grupo zaragozano ha hecho esta reinvención del tema con motivo de la Expo '08 que se celebra en su pueblo y cuya temática gira alrededor del agua y su importancia y del desarrollo sostenible. Bob también visitará el evento y parece que le ha encantado la adaptación de su tema.

Amaral - Llegará la tormenta

Me han dicho que has vuelto por fin a tu casa
¿Qué has visto en tu viaje por tierras lejanas?

Caí entre la bruma de doce montañas
Vagando por seis autopistas cortadas
En medio de siete bosques callados
Perdido en las costas de negros océanos
Subí a diez mil millas hasta un camposanto

Y llegará, llegará, llegará,
llegará la tormenta
Que anuncia el cielo

Me han dicho que has vuelto por fin a tu casa
¿Qué oíste en tu viaje por tierras lejanas?

El ruido de un trueno preludio del miedo
La última ola al final de los tiempos
Tambores sonando en la linea de fuego
Y tantos susurros que no escucha nadie
Oí carcajadas y llantos de hambre
La triste canción del poeta en la calle
La voz de un payaso cubierto de sangre

Y llegará, llegará, llegará,
llegará la tormenta
Que anuncia el cielo

Me han dicho que has vuelto por fin a tu casa
¿Y qué harás ahora que el viaje se acaba?

Volver antes de la lluvia de estrellas
A lo más profundo de lo desconocido
Donde hay multitudes sin nada en las manos
Allí donde el sol ha secado los ríos
Donde eres esclavo o un pobre fugitivo
Que ha visto los ojos de un hombre sin rostro
Donde todas las almas han sido olvidadas
Donde negro es el color y el número no existe
Gritaré hasta que quede grabado en el viento
Y mi voz se refleje desde ésta montaña
Aunque tenga que andar encima de las aguas
Hasta que ésta llamada sea escuchada

Y llegará, llegará, llegará,
llegará la tormenta
Que anuncia el cielo
Y llegará, llegará, llegará,
llegará la tormenta
Que anuncia el cielo.

Aquí está el vídeo que grabaron en plena calle allá en su tierra...



Por aquí os dejo también la versión original del gran Bob...

Bob Dylan - A hard rain's A-gonna fall

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains,
I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways,
I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests,
I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans,
I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it,
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin',
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin',
I saw a white ladder all covered with water,
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken,
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin',
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world,
Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin',
Heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin',
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin',
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter,
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony,
I met a white man who walked a black dog,
I met a young woman whose body was burning,
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow,
I met one man who was wounded in love,
I met another man who was wounded with hatred,
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what'll you do now, my darling young one?
I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin',
I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest,
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty,
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters,
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison,
Where the executioner's face is always well hidden,
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten,
Where black is the color, where none is the number,
And I'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it,
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it,
Then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin',
But I'll know my song well before I start singin',
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Y aquí tenéis el audio correspondiente...

Gafapasta

Y tras el primero de los examenes de junio, aunque fue ya hace dos días, vuelve nuestro querido curso de aprender a ser "moerno" y saber de música del momento. Hoy lo vamos a dedicar a unos chicos que se dedicaban a tocar y beber, beber y tocar. Es lo que podían hacer en Noruega gracias a sus maravillosas cuatro horas de sol. Si la COMPETENTE compañía de Ryanair lo hubiera estimado oportuno, podría haberlo comprobado por mí mismo.

A lo que íbamos, estos son unos chavales así como mozalbetes, con ganas de pasarselo bien y que en los conciertos acaban si camiseta y con bragas en el escenario (yo lo ví con mis propios ojos) y que hacen música que si te pones gafas de pasta seguro que te gusta. Aquí os dejo Down in the past, una de las canciones que a mi más me gustan. ¡A disfrutarla!

Mando Diao - Down in the past

Well I don't wanna hang around with you
I've got my motor baby and I'm gonna see you through
You think I wanna be alone with you
It doesn't matter baby cause you're overreacted too

But since you're down there, where will I just be
I'm getting fine girl, dressing up for stormy weather

So touch me down in the past where my mother will last
And it's true that I'm in for a punch and a blast
Yeah down in the past where my mother will last
And she will make sure that you remember

Well I don't wanna slide away with you
I've got ten little soldiers pointing at you
Honey you just left me for a new one
It doesn't matter baby cause your hair is ugly too

But since you're down there, where will I just be
I'm getting fine girl, dressing up for stormy weather

So touch me down in the past where my mother will last
And it's true that I'm in for a punch and a blast
Yeah down in the past where my mother will last
And she will make sure that you remember

Well I don't wanna hang around with you
I've got my motor baby and I'm gonna see you through
You think I wanna be alone with you
It doesn't matter baby cause you're overreacted too

So touch me down in the past where my mother will last
And it's true that I'm in for a punch and a blast
Yeah down in the past where my mother will last
And she will make sure that you remember

That you remember... Come on...

Esperemos haber aprendido algo hoy porque la próxima promete ser buena, buenísima de la muerte (no me lo creo ni yo). agur!!