Entrades per Brett Dennen

Feia temps que tenia ganes d'anar a un concert d'en Brett Dennen, i per fi el proper 9 de novembre hi anirem :)


Poso una cançó del seu nou disc Hope for the Hopeless.

Heaven - Brett Dennen

Beyond the rules of religion, the cloth of conviction,
above all the competition where fact and fiction meet;
there's no colour lines, casts or classes.
There's no fooling the masses.
Whatever faith you practise, whatever you believe...

Oh, heaven, heaven.
What the hell is heaven?
Is there a home for the homeless?
Is there hope for the hopeless?

Throw away your misconceptions,
there's no walls around Heaven.
There's no codes you gotta know to get in,
no minutemen or border patrol.
You must lose your Earthly possessions,
leave behind your weapons.
You can't buy your salvation and there is no pot of gold.

Heaven, heaven.
What the hell is heaven?
Is there a home for the homeless?
Is there hope for the hopeless?

Heaven ain't got no prisons,
no government, no business,
no banks or politicians,
no armies and no police.

Castles and cathedrals crumble,
pyramids and pipelines tumble.
The failure keeps you humble
and leads us closer to peace.

Heaven, heaven.
What the hell is heaven?
Is there a home for the homeless?
Is there hope for the hopeless?

Is there a home for the homeless?
Is there hope for the hopeless?

Altre cop!

Ara feia tant de temps que no actualitzava aquest bloc... que ni me'n recordava de quina era la temàtica... però en general era anar posant cançons que m'hagin marcat, ja sigui per la qualitat que hi trobu o pel moment en que les he escoltat.

Avui posaré una cançó que vaig sentir l'altre dia a un programa de TV3, l'Ànima on dos desl co-directors del festival de música Faraday en van fer una versió. Aquesta cançó és diu Songs of Love de The Divine Comedy que va ser l'artista que va obrir el cartell d'aquest festival.

Songs of love - The Divine Comedy

Pale, pubescent beasts, roam through the streets
And coffee-shops, their prey gather in herds
Of stiff knee-length skirts, and white ankle-socks
But while they search for a mate, my type hibernate
In bedrooms above, composing their songs of love

Young, uniform minds, in uniform lines
And uniform ties, run round with trousers on fire
And signs of desire, they cannot disguise,
While I try to find words, as light as the birds
That circle above, to put in my songs of love

Fate doesn't hang, on a wrong or right choice
Fortune depends, on the tone of your voice
So sing while you have time, let the sun shine down from above
And fill you with songs of love

Fate doesn't hang, on a wrong or right choice
Fortune depends, on the tone of your voice
So let's sing while we still can, while the sun hangs high up above
Wonderful songs of love, beautiful songs of love