Med en baggrund på Jagtvej 69 var musik en del af min politiske selvforståelse lige fra starten. Igennem årene har jeg troligt pløjet mig igennem hundredevis af bands mere eller mindre politiske og/eller obskure tekster, og netop tekstuniverset har fra starten stået helt centralt for mig, i hvert fald når der var tale om bands med en politisk agenda.
Den stærkeste måde at formidle et budskab til en hærdet musiknørd som mig, er at kombinere ordene med musik og lade de to skubbe til hinanden, slås med hinanden, elske med hinanden og på den måde skabe en symbiose, der forstærker udtrykket fra begge og indtrykket hos undertegnede.
Derfor vil jeg, i nærværende blog, introducere en serie, der kommer til at hedde Revolutionær lyrik. Indholdet kommer til at være præget af tekst, der har gjort indtryk på mig igennem årene, og som stadig rører ved den del af mit hjerte, der drømmer om at styrte samfundet i havet og grine hånligt mens det forsvinder under bølgerne.
Første indslag er (til ingen overraskelse for de der kender mig) sangen "Arsonist prayer" med det nu opløste amerikanske band Catharsis. Netop dette band har altid betydet meget for mig, dels på grund af de svært velskrevne og ofte meget poetiske tekster, og dels ovenstående vekselvirkning imellem ord og musik. Den ene gang jeg nåede at opleve dette band live, står stadig som en af mine største koncertoplevelser, nogensinde (ud af ikke så få).
Manden der skrev ordene, Brian D, var/er en af de centrale personer omkring den anti-autoritære venstreorienterede strømning CrimethInc, der blandt andet er stærkt inspireret af situationisterne.
Nå, nok intro. Herfra vil jeg lade lyrikken tale for sig selv.
"...The horror, that we may not live
We may not live
To see the walls fall from between us
Between us and the world which these songs cry out.
That the desire, which still lives, to contest, a mark of shame upon certain foreheads,
will remain an offering unto the dead, illegible, irrelevant
And we will be shaped into priestly statues in poses of defiance before our own masters
To softly, safely sing the praises of a disarmed war, a lukewarm love
So lest we fall out of lust for life, let us risk all we have to risk
For only a fool, only a fool, would cling to this world as it is.
If i could strike one blow to spite their forces, though I might bear one hundred more,
I would wear the welts like rubies, and the shackles for a crown
And if I had one hundred hearts I would throw them all before their bullets
Before I´d sell a single one to wield their power
So lest we fall out of love with life, let us give all we have to give
For only a fool would cling to this world.
Autumn, the leaves fell,
Then the trees
Became fences and factories
Now winter is coming
Let´s put the heat on.
...but no fire or ice, their absences suffice
The nights now wil be long and cold, with a silence like you never known
And you´ll shake in it, cry out at it, but it will wrap you in its spiders thread
Perhaps you´ll stare into that blankness until it peers back into you
And both of you see nothing, and it wil wrap you in its spiders thread
That blessed are the womb that are barren
Blessed are the branches tha bear no fruit
Blessed are the rivers run dry
For we have come to the end of the world
To die.
So die...die and become perish, let go and be done
With all the tangled threads that keep you tied to husks of false hopes,
fossilized
If these years still wait for those who will be more merciless than history
To burn the chaff and make an end, to make the fields fertile once again
Then break...break the skin
Open...open and reach in
And draw the nerves out taut to play a song upon those tight strings
Such as this world has never heard
Let it be dirge, hymn, or dance, vomit or tears, absolving snowfall or acid rain
Summer that sets fire to the harvest, or ice age that, thawing, blossoms crimson pain
Pleasure or death, splendor or rust, flash flood or drought that turns jungles to crust
Those tender caresses for which the skin aches
Or tear gas to breathe and plate glass to break
The uproar of riot, the hush of nightfall, or sirens announcing the doom of us all
The triumph of failures who fought at all costs, or despair of derelict dreams who lost
Silence and space...hungers to be...momentary eternities
The furrows of ash left by passion and wrath
The faithless fixed stars over our wandering paths
As the moon moves the see, we could move these mountains
As comets drop to earth, so might empires end
As old suns explode rather than fall to dust
Let us steal fire and pay with our lives if we must
For if all this world is God´s, and man a mens plaything of laws and strings
Then why not raze it all, and in destroying at least set sail on borrowed wing?
Anything other than what we have known
Strike the match, take a breath now...the hour has come
To dance the resistance, teach tied tongues to sing
This is the end of the calendar, the last loosening!
Around and inside you, the violence you fear...for or against it, it´s already here
It forged the cord that bound you to the ground...it built these walls
LET BURN THEM DOWN!"
Arsonists prayer kan høres i fuld længde her:
Kommentarer
tak for et fint indlæg. det er dejligt at læse noget om modkultur på modkraft, der ikke handler om roskilde festival eller louisiana litteraturfestival.
Katten>> MEGET MEGET enig. Også ting der ikke handler om queer eller crimethinc (selvom Marco behændigt fik sneget det ind alligevel!)
Marco>> Jeg har faktisk aldrigt hørt noget Catharsis (ja, du må godt slå mig), men det ser faktisk ud til at være ret så fine ideer. For lidt metal/hc/punk og deslige handler om udbrændthed, det er tit pakket ind i machoid dem/os snak eller tykke, tykke doser hellighed. Sådan kan ovenstående tekst også læses (hvis den kunne læses, tilføj lidt tekstombrydning så er du en champ :), men det at det bliver udtalt forhindrer det i at lyde selvgodt.
Glæder mig til at læse mere!
Tak for ordene.
Det nummer der er postet her over er fra en split de lavede med det tjekkiske band Newborn, og det var det eneste nummer Catharsis bidragede med.
Hvis det falder i jeres smag så er der ingen tid at spilde. Ud og have fat i pladen "Passion", den er et moderne hovedværk inden for politisk hardcore. Denne lille snas er snuppet fra nummeret "Obsession":
"Send me your sons and prodigal daughters.
Render up to me your lost and strayed.
Give lust and life to our dances,
flight to our fancies.
Give me courage for,
my passions and my pain.
And this will be my art:
to feel alive.
Break my heart.
Sell my body or my soul.
Spite their laws.
Fight the odds.
Smite the gods.
Starve myself.
Freeze myself.
Burn myself.
Kill myself.
Kill myself.
To feel..."
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