Martedì di musica con Singing in the Rain, il jukebox a tema Gran Bretagna 😄
Questa mattina sono un po’ arrabbiata con YouTube e Internet in generale (poi capirete perché 🙄), però non lasciatevi scoraggiare perché la canzone di oggi appartiene ad un stratosferico gruppo inglese, i The Clash, che anche dopo 36 anni riescono a dimostrare quanto poco si cambi! Avevo detto di lasciar stare Brexit e il lato politico ma la storia del video (poi capirete) mi hanno fatto cambiare idea, almeno per oggi 😁
È un testo davvero attuale, che distrugge pian piano la falsa idea contenuta nella prima strofa (Dicono che gli immigrati rubino i coprimozzi/Dei gentiluomini rispettabili/Dicono che sarebbe tutto rose e fiori/Se l’Inghilterra appartenesse di nuovo agli inglesi) raccontando tutte le tragedie e le colpe che hanno colpito gli inglesi proprio a causa loro. Giusto per far riflettere un po’…
Vi lascio in compagnia dei Clash e vi auguro un buon ascolto e una buona giornata 💋
Info
Titolo Something About England Artista The Clash Album Sandinista! Compositore The Clash Genere Punk Rock Anno 1980 # Traccia 6 di 36 Singolo No
Video
A quanto sembra questa canzone non può essere diffusa online per contenuti SME in 244 Paesi (praticamente, si può vedere solo negli Stati Uniti 😑) perciò vi metto la sola versione “libera” disponibile. => Qui <= però, se avete tempo, c’è l’originale
Testo
They say immigrants steal the hubcaps Of the respected gentlemen They say it would be wine an’ roses If England were for Englishmen again
Well I saw a dirty overcoat At the foot of the pillar of the road Propped inside was an old man Whom time would not erode When the night was snapped by sirens Those blue lights circled fast The dancehall called for an’ ambulance The bars all closed up fast
My silence gazing at the ceiling While roaming the single room I thought the old man could help me If he could explain the gloom You really think it’s all new You really think about it too The old man scoffed as he spoke to me I’ll tell you a thing or two
I missed the fourteen-eighteen war But not the sorrow afterwards With my father dead and my mother ran off My brothers took the pay of hoods The twenties turned the north was dead The hunger strike came marching south At the garden party not a word was said The ladies lifted cake to their mouths
The next war began and my ship sailed With battle orders writ in bed In five long years of bullets and shells We left ten million dead The few returned to old Piccadily We limped around Leicester Square The world was busy rebuilding itself The architects could not care
But how could we know when I was young All the canges that were to come? All the photos in the wallets on the battlefield And now the terror of the scientific sun There was masters an’ servants an’ servants an’ dogs They taught you how to touch your cap But through strikes an’ famine an’ war an’ peace England never closed this gap
So leave me now the moon is up But remember all the tales I tell The memories that you have dredged up Are on letters forwarded from hell
The streets were by now deserted The gangs had trudged off home The lights clicked off in the bedsits An’ old England was all alone
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