Oceania (Björk)

Oceania
One breath away from mother Oceania
Your nimble feet make prints in my sands
You have done good for yourselves
Since you left my wet embrace
And crawled ashore
Every boy, is a snake is a lily
Every pearl is a lynx, is a girl
Sweet like harmony made into flesh
You dance by my side
Children sublime
You show me continents
I see islands
You count the centuries
I blink my eyes
Hawks and sparrows race in my waters
Stingrays are floating
Across the sky
Little ones, my sons and my daughters
Your sweat is salty
I am why
I am why
I am why
Your sweat is salty
I am why
I am why
I am why

— Björk et Svön, Oceania, © tous droits réservés pour tous pays.

 

Boys Keep Swinging (David Bowie)

Boys Keep Swinging
Heaven loves ya
The clouds part for ya
Nothing stands in your way
When you’re a boy

Clothes always fit ya
Life is a pop of the cherry
When you’re a boy

When you’re a boy
You can wear a uniform
When you’re a boy
Other boys check you out
You get a girl
These are your favourite things
When you’re a boy

Boys
Boys
Boys keep swinging
Boys always work it out

Uncage the colours
Unfurl the flag
Luck just kissed you hello
When you’re a boy

They’ll never clone ya
You’re always first on the line
When you’re a boy

When you’re a boy
You can buy a home of your own
When you’re a boy
Learn to drive and everything
You’ll get your share
When you’re a boy

Boys
Boys
Boys keep swinging
Boys always work it out.

— David Bowie, Boys Keep Swinging, © tous droits réservés pour tous pays.

Common People (Pulp)

Common People
She came from Greece she had a thirst for knowledge
She studied sculpture at Saint Martin’s College, that’s where I caught her eye.
She told me that her Dad was loaded
I said in that case I’ll have a rum and coca-cola.
She said fine and then in thirty seconds time she said, I want to live like common people
I want to do whatever common people do, I want to sleep with common people
I want to sleep with common people like you.
Well what else could I do – I said I’ll see what I can do.
I took her to a supermarket
I don’t know why but I had to start it somewhere, so it started there.
I said pretend you’ve got no money, she just laughed and said oh you’re so funny.
I said yeah? Well I can’t see anyone else smiling in here.
Are you sure you want to live like common people
You want to see whatever common people see
You want to sleep with common people,
you want to sleep with common people like me.
But she didn’t understand, she just smiled and held my hand.
Rent a flat above a shop, cut your hair and get a job.
Smoke some fags and play some pool, pretend you never went to school.
But still you’ll never get it right
‘cos when you’re laid in bed at night watching roaches climb the wall
If you call your Dad he could stop it all.
You’ll never live like common people
You’ll never do what common people do
You’ll never fail like common people
You’ll never watch your life slide out of view, and dance and drink and screw
Because there’s nothing else to do.
Sing along with the common people, sing along and it might just get you thru’
Laugh along with the common people
Laugh along even though they’re laughing at you and the stupid things that you do.
Because you think that poor is cool.
I want to live with common people like you, I want to live with common people like you…

— Jarvis Cocker, Common People, © Tous droits réservés pour tous pays.

Creep (Radiohead)

Creep
When you were here before
Couldn’t look you in the eye
You’re just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry
You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
And I wish I was special
You’re so very special

But I’m a creep
I’m a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don’t belong here

I don’t care if it hurts
I want to have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice
When I’m not around
You’re so very special
I wish I was special

But I’m a creep
I’m a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don’t belong here

Oh, oh, oh, oh…

She’s running out again
She’s running out…
She run run run run…
Run…

Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You’re so very special
I wish I was special
But I’m a creep
I’m a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don’t belong here
I don’t belong here

— Radiohead, Creep, 1993

Chelsea Hotel No. 2 (Leonard Cohen)

Chelsea Hotel No. 2
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
you were talking so brave and so sweet,
giving me head on the unmade bed,
while the limousines wait in the street.
Those were the reasons and that was New York,
we were running for the money and the flesh.
And that was called love for the workers in song
probably still is for those of them left.
Ah but you got away, didn’t you babe,
you just turned your back on the crowd,
you got away, I never once heard you say,
I need you, I don’t need you,
I need you, I don’t need you
and all of that jiving around.

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel
you were famous, your heart was a legend.
You told me once again you preferred handsome men
but for me you would make an exception.
And clenching your fist for the ones like us
who are oppressed by the figures of beauty,
you fixed yourself, you said, « Well never mind,
we are ugly but we have the music. »

And then you got away, didn’t you babe
you just turned your back on the crowd,
you got away, I never once heard you say,
I need you, I don’t need you,
I need you, I don’t need you
and all of that jiving around.

I don’t mean to suggest that I loved you the best,
I dont’t keep track of each fallen robin.
I remember her well in the Chelsea Hotel,
that’s all, I don’t even think of her that often.

— Leonard Cohen, © tous droits réservés.

Kashmir (Led Zeppelin)

Led Zeppelin. La trame sonore des étés de ma jeunesse. Quand on était ado dans les années 1970 et qu’on passait les étés à rien faire. À chiller ou à véger, comme on dirait aujourd’hui. Pas de camp de jour. Pas d’activités planifiées pendant trois semaines de vacances avec papa maman ou en famille reconstituée. Réinventer la vie et refaire le monde chaque jour, sans plan ni idées préconçues.

Kashmir. Un goût de soleil, de chlore de piscine et d’été interminable. Un goût d’interdit et de découverte aussi. Un goût d’éternité et d’invicibilité surtout. Kashmir, c’était avant que la mort existe pour vrai. Quand elle n’existait qu’à la télévision. Quand on avait toute la vie devant soi et qu’on ne serait jamais vieux.

Enjoy!, comme disent les anglos.

Treize minutes dans la vie d’une émission radiophonique – édito poétique d’Yvon d’Anjou (12 juin 2014)

There’s no glory in dying, anyone can do it.
— John Lydon (alias Johnny Rotten)

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