Too Old To Rock And Roll, Too Young To Die - Jethro Tull

Recién me di cuenta que venía mejorando, cuando ayer me encontré con mi pequeña sombra y eramos más parecidos aun sin un poco de cabello.
Y el está muy joven y yo estoy empezando a ser viejo. Cada vez que me acerco ahora él me cuida a mi. Y cada vez que corre siento molestia de no alcanzarlo.
Y cuando hablo me molesta no sentir su atención. Y cuando se pierde en el horizonte lamento no entenderlo.
Pero cuando jode y es el mismo en pleno como niño, ahí me molesta no estar más cerca.

The old Rocker wore his hair too long,
wore his trouser cuffs too tight.
Unfashionable to the end --- drank his ale too light.
Death's head belt buckle --- yesterday's dreams ---
the transport caf' prophet of doom.
Ringing no change in his double-sewn seams
in his post-war-babe gloom.

Now he's too old to Rock'n'Roll but he's too young to die.

He once owned a Harley Davidson and a Triumph Bonneville.
Counted his friends in burned-out spark plugs
and prays that he always will.
But he's the last of the blue blood greaser boys
all of his mates are doing time:
married with three kids up by the ring road
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sold their souls straight down the line.
And some of them own little sports cars
and meet at the tennis club do's.
For drinks on a Sunday --- work on Monday.
They've thrown away their blue suede shoes.

Now they're too old to Rock'n'Roll and
they're too young to die.

So the old Rocker gets out his bike
to make a ton before he takes his leave.
Up on the A1 by Scotch Corner
just like it used to be.
And as he flies --- tears in his eyes ---
his wind-whipped words echo the final take
and he hits the trunk road doing around 120
with no room left to brake.

And he was too old to Rock'n'Roll but he was too young to die.
No, you're never too old to Rock'n'Roll
if you're too young to die.

My God - Jethro Tull

Sin palabras. Los dolores se pasan rápido si no pongo actitud de gato, y dejo de morderme la cola.
Y quedan momentos de lujo rockero como este...

People -- what have you done --
locked Him in His golden cage.
Made Him bend to your religion --
Him resurrected from the grave.
He is the god of nothing --
if that's all that you can see.
You are the god of everything --
He's inside you and me.
So lean upon Him gently
and don't call on Him to save you
from your social graces
and the sins you used to waive.
The bloody Church of England --
in chains of history --
requests your earthly presence at
the vicarage for tea.
And the graven image you-know-who --
with His plastic crucifix --
he's got him fixed --
confuses me as to who and where and why --
as to how he gets his kicks.
Confessing to the endless sin --
the endless whining sounds.
You'll be praying till next Thursday to
all the gods that you can count.

Skating away on the thin ice of the new day - Jethro Tull

Ya volví, pero parte de mi cerebro se quedó en alguna parte, así que volví idiota y sin ánimos. Vacilante y torpe en extremo. Pierdo neuronas en este proceso y puedo sacrificar el negocio a largo plazo. Y ni esos aeropuertos me afectan, solo me aletargan.
Pero fue buena la recepción, como las mejores, como hace tiempo no había recepciones.
Triunfales, pero a un idiota al fin.

Meanwhile back in the year one when you belonged to no-one
You didnt stand a chance son, if your pants were undone.
`cause you were bred for humanity and sold to society
One day youll wake up in the present day
A million generations removed from expectations
Of being who you really want to be.
Skating away
Skating away
Skating away on the thin ice of the new day.

So as you push off from the shore,
Wont you turn your head once more --- and make your peace with everyone?
For those who choose to stay,
Will live just one more day ---
To do the things they should have done.
And as you cross the wilderness, spinning in your emptiness:
You feel you have to pray.
Looking for a sign
That the universal mind (!) has written you into the passion play.

Skating away on the thin ice of the new day.

And as you cross the circle line, the ice-wall creaks behind
Youre a rabbit on the run.
And the silver splinters fly in the corner of your eye
Shining in the setting sun.
Well, do you ever get the feeling that the storys
Too damn real and in the present tense?
Or that everybodys on the stage, and it seems like
Youre the only person sitting in the audience?

Skating away on the thin ice of the new day.

Locomotive breath - Jethro Tull

Ok, lo reconozco, recien reparo en que es un momento de euforia y debería ser de alcohol también. Pero no siempre la felicidad es una cosa alegre, más bien es una raya más en la espalda del tigre, que la siente aun un tanto límpida.
Gracias a la suerte, que me ha dado tanto. Y a la oportunidad de repetir que siempre es incierta, y a los eventos inexplicables, y a lo aleatorio de ser uno mismo.
Y que otras cosas pasen como pasan.
A celebrar sin moderación.
A comprar la risa eterna que da el alcohol, y su temporal felicidad. Y su euforia fría.

In the shuffling madness
Of the locomotive breath,
Runs the all-time loser,
Headlong to his death.
He feels the piston scraping --
Steam breaking on his brow --
Thank God, he stole the handle and
The train won't stop going --
No way to slow down.
He sees his children jumping off
At the stations -- one by one.
His woman and his best friend --
In bed and having fun.
He's crawling down the corridor
On his hands and knees --
Old Charlie stole the handle and
The train won't stop going --
No way to slow down.
He hears the silence howling --
Catches angels as they fall.
And the all-time winner
Has got him by the balls.
He picks up Gideon's Bible --
Open at page one --
God stole the handle and
The train won't stop going --
No way to slow down.

Thick as a brick - Jethro Tull

Es una vieja danza, para animar a los más pequeños, que me impulsa y me agrada tanto... que puedo aguantar 40 minutos de ella sin casi pestañar... con sólido rock y con marcha danzarina.
Y es también una danza de la victoria, las veces que la victoria sea un hecho reconocible y justo, y es una danza de la alegría, cuando hay pocas cosas de las que alegrarse, y es una danza de orgullo cuando mi orgullo está golpeado.
Y fue una marcha de niños siempre, siempre que hay uno cerca. Y espero que eso sea por mucho tiempo.

Really don't mind if you sit this one out.
My words but a whisper your deafness a SHOUT.
I may make you feel but I can't make you think.
Your sperm's in the gutter your love's in the sink.
So you ride yourselves over the fields and
you make all your animal deals and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.

And the sand-castle virtues are all swept away
in the tidal destruction the moral melee.
The elastic retreat rings the close of play
as the last wave uncovers the newfangled way.
But your new shoes are worn at the heels
and your suntan does rapidly peel
and your wise men don't know how it feels
to be thick as a brick.

And the love that I feel is so far away:
I'm a bad dream that I just had today
and you shake your head and say it's a shame.

Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth.
Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth.
Spin me down the long ages: let them sing the song.
See there! A son is born and we pronounce him fit to fight.
There are black-heads on his shoulders, and he pees himself in the night.
We'll make a man of him, put him to trade
teach him to play Monopoly and how to sing in the rain.

The Poet and the Painter casting shadows on the water
as the sun plays on the infantry returning from the sea.
The do-er and the thinker: no allowance for the other
as the failing light illuminates the mercenary's creed.
The home fire burning: the kettle almost boiling
but the master of the house is far away.
The horses stamping, their warm breath clouding
in the sharp and frosty morning of the day.
And the poet lifts his pen while the soldier sheaths his sword.
And the youngest of the family is moving with authority.
Building castles by the sea, he dares the tardy tide to wash them all aside.

The cattle quietly grazing at the grass down by the river
where the swelling mountain water moves onward to the sea:
the builder of the castles renews the age-old purpose
and contemplates the milking girl whose offer is his need.
The young men of the household have all gone into service
and are not to be expected for a year.
The innocent young master - thoughts moving ever faster -
has formed the plan to change the man he seems.
And the poet sheaths his pen while the soldier lifts his sword.
And the oldest of the family is moving with authority.
Coming from across the sea, he challenges the son who puts him to the run.

What do you do when the old man's gone - do you want to be him?
And your real self sings the song. Do you want to free him?
No one to help you get up steam
and the whirlpool turns you `way off-beam.

Under wraps - Jethro Tull

Hay algo mejor que la música para escuchar? La mayoría de las veces aunque no entienda en inglés, está claro que capto lo principal del mensaje... y Under Wraps habla de... de... en fin, no sé.
Yo espero que hable de provocación, de delirios, de marchosidad, que no hable de sexo, ni de amor, ni de esperanzas, ni de humedad.
Debería hablar de concentración, de intensidad, hasta de lujuria y degradación. Hoy no quiero hablar de amor, hoy se habla (y mal) de carne, de sudor, de sal. Quisiera sentir eso, y no esta fiaca falta de ganas ni humor. Me pesa y le falta un poco de hormonas.
Para otra otra será.
Clap clap¡¡¡¡¡

Keep it quiet. (Go slow.)
Circulate. Need to know.
Stamp the date upon your file
masquerade, but well worth while.
Wrapped in the warmth of you
wrapped up in your smile.
Wrapped in the folds of your attention.

Wear an air (keep mum)
of casual indifference.

Careful how you go
about your usual business.

Wrapped in daydreams of you
wrapped up by your eyes.
Wrapped in the folds of your attention.
Under wraps! I've got you under wraps.
Under wraps! I've got you under wraps.

Tell you when (not yet)
soon the great unveiling.
Bless my boots! Upon my soul!
Secrecy, it is my failing.
Wrapped in your Summer night
wrapped in your Autumn leaves.
Wrapped in the Winter of your sleeping.

Life is a long song - Jetro Tull

También hay momentos de paz no? Aunque mi olfato fino de percepciones anuncia tormenta, algo de calma viene para ser aprovechada.
Mejor dejar de sumar, mejor dejar de contar y planear, siempre habrá tiempo para torturarse, para convencerse y convencer, para pretender.
La vida es una larga canción, que a veces se pone rock, hay algunos días punk, mucha bossa, y hasta cumbia y tango con bandoneón. Pero no hay canción eterna ni perfecta, y hoy me siento cansado... tengo ganas de dormir y dejarme llevar. A otro lugar.

When you're falling awake and you take stock of the new day,
and you hear your voice croak as you choke on what you need to say,
well, don't you fret, don't you fear,
I will give you good cheer.

Life's a long song.
Life's a long song.
Life's a long song.

If you wait then your plate I will fill.

As the verses unfold and your soul suffers the long day,
and the twelve o'clock gloom spins the room,
you struggle on your way.
Well, don't you sigh, don't you cry,
lick the dust from your eye.

Life's a long song.
Life's a long song.
Life's a long song.

We will meet in the sweet light of dawn.

As the Baker Street train spills your pain all over your new dress,
and the symphony sounds underground put you under duress,
well don't you squeal as the heel grinds you under the wheel.

Life's a long song.
Life's a long song.
Life's a long song.

But the tune ends too soon for us all

Christmas song - Jethro Tull

Hoy hay una celebración, que no merece exceso de palabras y mayores meditaciones. Es tiempo de hogar.
Solo quiero dejar huella de los sucesos de ayer y de las formas que hay de dejar lo malo atrás, un año no es nada, todo parece cambiar, pero en realidad nada cambia mucho. Me doy un par de años más para volver a intentarlo.
Esta vez fue un éxito, pero quien sabe, la experiencia me hace más cuidadoso y desconfiado. Pero doy la bienvenida de corazón esta vez.
Mientras, feliz navidad sangrienta, te desea mi corazón en venta.

Once in Royal David’s City stood a lowly cattle shed,
where a mother laid her baby.
You’d do well to remember the things He later said.
When you’re stuffing yourselves at the Christmas parties,
you’ll laugh when I tell you to take a running jump.
You’re missing the point I’m sure does not need making;
that Christmas spirit is not what you drink.

So how can you laugh when your own mother’s hungry
and how can you smile when the reasons for smiling are wrong?
And if I messed up your thoughtless pleasures,
remember, if you wish, this is just a Christmas song.

Hey, Santa: pass us that bottle, will you?

Someday the sun won't shine for you - Jethro Tull

Domingo de resaca luego de un sábado sangriento... voy a tomar la postura del descanso pues no me quedan fuerzas para pensar ni polemizar.
Hoy se abrió una posibilidad de lograr reconciliar algunos temas del pasado que estaban en el tintero, en lo personal, juzgo que está bien seguir recogiendo el equipaje perdido de una vida intensa, peleada y con muchos errores. Creo que vale la pena intentarlo de nuevo.
Ahora dale pausa al teclado, que es de noche y se cometen muchos errores de juicio en este estado de ánimo apagado y húmedo. Y algo así quise dar a entender cuando elegí la canción de Jethro.

In the morning -- gonna get my things together.
Packing up and I'm leaving this place.
I don't believe you'll cry, there'll be a smile upon your face.

I didn't think how much you'd hurt me.
That's something that I laugh about.
Bring in the good times, baby.
And let the bad times out.

That old sun keeps on shining,
But someday it won't shine for you.
In the morning I'll be leaving.
I'll leave your mother too.

Thick as a brick - Jethro Tull

Yo empecé definitivamente demasiado joven a escuchar el rock "clásico", era demasiado primerizo para entender joyas musicales tan avanzadas, pero también para reconocer nuevas tendencias de rock, eso llega con la edad, mas bien.
Pero Thick as a brick (una obra de más de 25 años) me emociona por su ritmo danzarín y casi infantil (de fábula inglesa). Ahora me doy cuenta (con ese tema hice bailar hermanos y sobrinos), que es muy preciso en cuanto a palabras y melodía, lo percibí bien aunque no lo entendía.
Bienvenidos a los 40 minutos más excitantes de Jethro Tull, pesados, bailables, inspiradores y excitantes. Una más, y ya van...

Really don't mind if you sit this one out.
My words but a whisper - your deafness a SHOUT.
I may make you feel but I can't make you think.
Your sperm's in the gutter - your love's in the sink.
So you ride yourselves over the fields and
you make all your animal deals and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
And the sand-castle virtues are all swept away in
the tidal destruction
the moral melee.
The elastic retreat rings the close of play as the last wave uncovers
the newfangled way.
But your new shoes are worn at the heels and
your suntan does rapidly peel and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.

And the love that I feel is so far away:
I'm a bad dream that I just had today - and you
shake your head and
say it's a shame.

Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth.
Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth.
Spin me down the long ages: let them sing the song.

See there! A son is born - and we pronounce him fit to fight.
There are black-heads on his shoulders, and he pees himself in the night.
We'll, make a man of him
put him to trade
teach him
to play Monopoly and
to sing in the rain.

A new day yesterday - Jethro Tull

Intuyo que no voy a saber definir bien de que se trata este tipo de ritmo, sempre lo he considerado como "heavy blues" por su potencia, pero basado en riffs típicos del blues... pero este tema me gusta desde hacen 20 años. Y es una de esas viejas joyas de la corona que hacía Jethro Tull en sus comienzos.
Me sirve para darme energía en las mañanas, o para ponerme pesado con el rock... mas o menos hasta aquí llego yo con gustos casi metaleros. Me da marcha, me enciende y hace que mi cabeza martillee el clavo gigante que nadie más ve.
Linda historia además, un agarrón que daba para más pero no da... y ayer fue un nuevo día. Cuando uno ve los recuerdos de esa forma, siempre ayer fue un día mejor. Y con lo viejo que se ve el día de hoy... y con el frío que hace...

My first and last time with you
and we had some fun.
wenT walking through the trees, yeah!
And then I kissed you once.
Oh I want to see you soon
but I wonder how.
It was a new day yesterday
but it's an old day now.

Spent a long time looking
for a game to play.
My luck should be so bad now
to turn out this way.
Oh I had to leave today
just when I thought I'd found you.
It was a new day yesterday
But it's an old day now.