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Thick as a Brick (part one)


Jethro Tull


Patinka? Spausk ir pridėk prie mėgstamų! Man patinka!

Stilius: Roko muzika
Data: 1972 m.




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.

LATER.
I've come down from the upper class to mend your rotten ways.
My father was a man-of-power whom everyone obeyed.
So come on all you criminals! I've got to put you straight
just like I did with my old man twenty years too late.
Your bread and water's going cold.
Your hair is too short and neat.
I'll judge you all and make damn sure that no-one judges me.

You curl your toes in fun as you smile at everyone,
you meet the stares, you're unaware that your doings aren't done.
And you laugh most ruthlessly as you tell us what not to be.
But how are we supposed to see where we should run?
I see you shuffle in the courtroom with
your rings upon your fingers
and your downy little sidies
and your silver-buckle shoes.
Playing at the hard case,
you follow the example of the comic-paper idol
who lets you bend the rules.

So!
Come on ye childhood heroes!
Won't you rise up from the pages of your comic-books
your super crooks
and show us all the way.
Well! Make your will and testament.
Won't you? Join your local government.
We'll have Superman for president
let Robin save the day.

You put your bet on number one and it comes up every time.
The other kids have all backed down and they put you first in line.
And so you finally ask yourself just how big you are
and take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars.
And you wonder who to call on.
So! Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday?
And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you though?
They're all resting down in Cornwall
writing up their memoirs for a paper-back edition
of the Boy Scout Manual.




Susiję įrašai:
 2012-06-20  einaras13

Skaitymas (romanas apie kambario monstrus)

 2012-09-27  einaras13

Tik apie muziką. (progrokas)

 2014-03-15  einaras13

Mokslo žmogus gyvenimo neturi.

Esamas tekstas

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.

LATER.
I've come down from the upper class to mend your rotten ways.
My father was a man-of-power whom everyone obeyed.
So come on all you criminals! I've got to put you straight
just like I did with my old man twenty years too late.
Your bread and water's going cold.
Your hair is too short and neat.
I'll judge you all and make damn sure that no-one judges me.

You curl your toes in fun as you smile at everyone,
you meet the stares, you're unaware that your doings aren't done.
And you laugh most ruthlessly as you tell us what not to be.
But how are we supposed to see where we should run?
I see you shuffle in the courtroom with
your rings upon your fingers
and your downy little sidies
and your silver-buckle shoes.
Playing at the hard case,
you follow the example of the comic-paper idol
who lets you bend the rules.

So!
Come on ye childhood heroes!
Won't you rise up from the pages of your comic-books
your super crooks
and show us all the way.
Well! Make your will and testament.
Won't you? Join your local government.
We'll have Superman for president
let Robin save the day.

You put your bet on number one and it comes up every time.
The other kids have all backed down and they put you first in line.
And so you finally ask yourself just how big you are
and take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars.
And you wonder who to call on.
So! Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday?
And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you though?
They're all resting down in Cornwall
writing up their memoirs for a paper-back edition
of the Boy Scout Manual.

Siūlomas pataisytas variantas

Pastabos

 

Komentarai (2)

Susijusi muzika: pasirinkti
PERŽIŪRĖTI
RAŠYTI
Suraskite ir pridėkite norimus kūrinius, albumus arba grupes:


Patvirtinti
einaras13
2012 m. rugsėjo 26 d. 20:25:27
Patinka? Spausk ir pridėk prie mėgstamų!

Thick as a Brick man asmeniškai labiau patinka nei A Passion Play, nors daugelio nuomonė kitokia.

Galios ir dinamikos nestokojama, puikiai sudėta daina (kur čia daina, čia net nemoku pasakyti kas per gigantas kūrinys). Nors įsiminti Jethro Tull ilgųjų dainų struktūrą ir dalis man sunku, dėl didesnės dinamikos, nei pvz: Van der Graaf Generator...

Aukštai mano asmeniniame progresyviųjų dainų tope...

O teksto išties dar netyrinėjau, bet net nemanau ar verta - juk jis nuostabus, ar ne? Jethro Tull tekstai visada buvo vieni mėgstamiausių, kol kas juos lenkia tik VdGG ir Pink Floyd...

10 balų aplamai už viską, kas sudėta į šį kūrinį.


____________________
„Nieko nepadarysi“ - Kurtas Vonegutas
Atsakyti
Alvydas1
2009 m. sausio 23 d. 17:10:00
Patinka? Spausk ir pridėk prie mėgstamų!
KVAILAS KAIP AULAS

Tikrai nesvarbu man, ar ligi galo išlauks kas

Tik šnabždesys žodis mano, gi jūsų kurtumas – šauksmas.
Gal dar priversiu jus jausti, bet mąstyt tikrai ne.
Kanalizacijoje sperma jūsų, o meilė – praustuve.
Taigi laigote sau laukymėse,
gyvuliškais reikalais užsiimate,
o jūsų išminčiai net nežino, ką jaučia kvailas kaip aulas.
Dorybės, tos smėlio pilys,
sugriautos, jas nušlavė bangų mūša, moralinės pylos.
Tamprus atsitraukimas skelbia žaidimo galą,
kai paskutinė banga atveria naujamadišką kelią.
Bet nauji jūsų batai jau išsikleipę,
o įdegis jūsų spėriai nusilaupia
ir jūsų išminčiai žinot nesiteikia, ką jaučia kvailas kaip aulas.

Ir meilė manyje išsidanginusi jau:
Aš blogas sapnas, kur šiąnakt sapnavau –
tu galvą purtai, sakai- ar negėda gi tau.

Grąžinkit mane spirale į jaunystės metus ir dienas.
Užtraukit juodas užuolaidas ir tiesas paslėpkit visas.
Bloškit mane į amžius senus, lai jie padainuos tas dainas.

Žiūrėkit! Gimė žmogus. Skelbiame – kovai turėtų jis tikti.
Inkštirai štai ant pečių ir prisisisioja į lovą naktį..
Žmogumi padarysime, duosime amatą jam.
Išmokysime žaisti ,,Monopolį“ ir dainuot lietuje.

Poeto ir tapytojo šešėliai ant vandens krinta,
kai grįžtančius karius iš jūros, saulė gaisu aprėdo.
Veiklūnas ir mąstytojas: nėr net prielaidos dėl kito-
kai silpstanti šviesa išryškina legionieriaus kredo.
Židinys kūrenas, virdulys netruks užvirti –
bet šeimininkas iškeliavęs, kažkur toli yra.
Arkliai nerimsta, garas jiems iš šnervių virsta,
šalto ir žvarbaus rytmečio ore.
Savo plunksną kelia poetas, o į makštis kardą slepia karys.

Ir šeimoje jaunėlis autoritetu pasikėlė.
Stato sau pilis iš smėlio – neboja jis,
kad potvynis delsiąs nuplauti gali jas.
Banda ramiai sau ganos pievoj palei upę,
kur kalnų upokšnis tvinsta, liejas į marias.
Čia pilių statytojui prigimtis sena atgyja,
užsigeidžia jaunos melžėjos degančia aistra.
Visi bernai iš ūkio tarnybon iškeliavę
ir nėra ko tikėtis, kad po metų parsiras.
Šeimininkas tyras, jaunas – mintys skuba,jaukias –
planą sukurpė, kaip jam tapt kitokiu, nei yra.
Ir plunksną slepia poetas, tuo metu kardą kelia karys.

Ir vyriausiasis iš šeimos autoritetą atsikovot
iš užjūrio grįžta namo su iššūkiu sūnui, per kurį tapo bastūnu.

Ką pats veiki, kol senio nėra, - nori jį pakeisti?
Dainą pats trauki bene. Nori jį atleisti?
Nėr padėjėjo tau išsiskleisti—
ir sūkurys įtraukia klaidose skęsti.

VĖLIAU
Aš atėjau iš aukštesnės klasės gydyti pagedimo jūsų.
Mano tėvas buvo valdžios žmogus, kuriam visi pakluso.
Nagi, nusikaltėliai, šen!
Perauklėsiu jus,be abejonės, kaip, kad auklėjo mane senis-
jau dvidešimt metų velionis.
Jūsų duona ir vanduo jau šąla.
Jūsų plaukai tvarkingai labai trumpi.
Aš teisiu jus visus ir, po paraliais, esu tikras manęs neteis kiti.

Kojų pirštai riečias, kaip jiems smagu, negailint visiems pašaipų,
suglumintus matyti.Be sampratos mažytės,
jog darbai nebaigti jų pačių.
Ir juokas jūsų taip užgaulus, dėstant mums: iš to nieko nebus.
Bet iš kur žinotina mums, kurią pasirinkt iš krypčių.
Regiu jus čiužinėjančius teismo salėj,
su pabanguotom žandenom, pirštais žieduotais,
avinčius sidabro sagėmis batus.
Žaisdami painią bylą, imat komiksų herojų vaizduoti,
taisykles keisti leidžiantį jums.

Taip! Nagi vaikystės didvyriai!
Gal jau persikelkit iš komiksų,
savo žygių antgamtiškų ir parodykite, kaip tai daroma, mums.
Nagi , skelbkit priesakus ar testamentą,
stokite vietos valdžią remti,
mums Supermenas būt prezidentas,
o Robinas gelbėtų mus.

Tu visad statai ant skaičiaus ‚,vienas“ir jis kaskart išrieda.
Kiti vaikai atsitraukė, užleido tau priekyje vietą.
Galiausiai savęs klausi: ar labai jau didis esi
ir įsitaisai gudresniame pasauly, kur auto didesni.
Tada svarstai, kurį čia aplankius.

Po velnių, kur Biglas buvo, kai šeštadienį jo taip reikėjo?
Ir sportininkai kur dėjos, visad traukę už ausų?
Kornvalyje dabar jie ilsis- memuarus rašinėja,
,,Skauto Vadovui“ plonu viršeliu.

____________________
Sielos polėkis, išmokantis skrist - Galimybės ribotos, bet pasiryžęs bandyt. Pink Floyd - Learning to Fly
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Susijusi muzika: pasirinkti
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