mercoledì 10 febbraio 2010

i thought of this one day i was called "the quietus" by someone


..and He always tell us to turn to the Sun


Not just because i was born christian since i was a kid i could tell that the image of an angel or a devil whispering something to my ear would have followed me for years. Inspiration, showing the path to take, possession. A different Choice. Religion taught me to never forget we have a choice.
You can pray the Lord to accord you the strenght so to be his favourite preacher. Or you can use the subversive power of religious imaginary, you can actually use the Lord, to be seen as a preacher.
His preacher. A preacher of your own.
So the Angel came at night, he sat at my bed, he waited for me to cool down, and said:
Now you go and tell everyone He told you tu turn to the Sun.
That's how we ended up calling our last record "...and He told us to turn to the Sun".
Isn't it singing 3 or 10 times better than praying?

IMAGINARY

Someone believes that a rock band has first to be judge for their live performances.
I kind of agree.
That's maybe the reason because we say "wow, your performance rocks"...
But this could also be cause english ain't my native tongue.
Anyhow, the live performance of a band confirms anything you thought of their record, or it makes you say that on live shows they're much better and whorty than on the record, or the opposite.
To me a band has to record only magic records sustained by incredible live.
The records i love the most, after seeing the bands playing them live, became necessary. Urgent.
But the punkiest performance you can attend to it's not necessary the more sweaty.
Three or more people, still as if they were graves theirselves, watching at you and being silently furious.
Why am i saying this?
Because at the first place in a live show i believe there is the imaginary the band's able to have you lost into.
Something that grows with the music, that you build brick after brick, as another player.
The power of telling a story, to have something surrounding you. God, my english is not helping me, but i believe you got what i was trying to say.

I started believing this after what happened at our first live show as FM.
I was kind of nervous, and you could tell it.
The promoter asked me: What's wrong?
I didn't even asnwer.
He looked at me and said: Let me introduce you...
i couldn't even think to stop him, so he started saying:

Hey everybody, here i am to introduce the guest band we'll have playing here tonite.
But let me first tell you something...
There is this guy, a kid, who swears at his mother. She cries.
He feels guilty.
That sense of guilt that everyone should feel in every moment of the day, last thing to think of before getting asleep.
First to recognize once awake.
He feels guilty.
He goes to the church. He's looking for some comprehension, he finds a priest. Some of them are fond on pointing their skinny or fatty fingers on your wound.
He says he already knows.
The kid cannot even think that it so not true.
He feels even more guilty. He doesn't know he won't find any relief even when he'll be adult in noticing that anyone can't tell to have no bearing on that.
The priest calls his name, and then his mother name.
The kid tries not to cry. It is enough to feel guilty.
He won't look ashamed.
So the punishment gets worse.
You will have to go home where you sweared at ...and he says his mother name.
That's too much for the kid.
There you will cut your leg off, continues the priest.
The kid even do not hesitate in asking which leg has to fall off.
He runs. His heartbeat makes his guilt bigger and bigger.
Now he's sitting on a stumo, handling a heavy axe. The is no blood, one of his legs is on the floor.
HE's crying, crying tears instead of all the blood that should be gushing from the slash.
He still feels guilty.
There's no room for the guilt, he thinks.
Someone then calls his name.
His mother?
No, a Saint.
He just puts his leg back.
You're free now, the Saint says. I know you won't do it anymore.
Still, you'll be on the line with me when it'll be the time to tell Him why we are so guilty.

After few seconds of silence, he cried our name and started clapping...
None said anything until the end of the show.
They were completely into it. But none more than us.
He came back on stage and hugged each one of us.
The devil himself.

PARABLE

I do not remember if this parable comes from the catechism.
I certainly heard tons of perfect soundtracks for it while sitting on my cold seat in the house of God, during the masses.
How a Saint's able to find himself guilty?
How can he even think to tell a kid he will die guilty?
I have no idea, nor a clue.
But how many songs or concept records can you record out of it?
I would pay to have the inspiration to make up such a story...
I would feel honoured to be called upon for such a work.