Programa 009

Cantamos para espantar el miedo e incluso hacemos programas de radio para lo mismo.

Expulsamos así nuestros fantasmas y damos cuerpo a la enfermedad para combatirla sin terror.


Y nos pone en guardia contra aquellos que nos quieren imponer su credo o que nos confunden para sacar provecho. De esto saben de sobra los NoFX. No hay que asustarse de lo extremo.

Father:] Hey Kids! 

[Kids:] Hey Dad! 

[Father:] What'da want to do today? 

[Kids:] We don't know. 

[Father:] Wanna go to the matinee? 

[Kids:] NO! 

[Father:] Wanna go to the Amusement Park? 

[Kids:] NO! 

[Father:] Wanna go to the punk rock show? 

[Kids:] Yeah! Let's go to the punk rock show! 

Lost in a sea of combat boots, 

Flush the bouncers with wasted youth 

When did punk rock become so safe? 

When did the scene become a joke? 

The kids who used to live for beer and speed 

Now want their fries and coke 

Cursing and flipping birds are not allowed, 

In fact let's keep noise levels down 

Must separate the church and skate! 

Why don't we put pads on the kids? 

Helmets, head gear and mouth pieces! 

Then we could pad the floor and walls, 

Put cameras inside bathroom stalls 

We make sure only nice bands play, 

Make every show a matinee 

Teach kids to be all they can be, 

And we could sing my country tis of thee 

Sweet land of liberty 

When did punk rock become so safe? 

I know it wasn't Duane or Fletcher, 

Who put up the barricades 

Like a stake in the heart, 

Somehow we got driven apart 

[Solo] 

I want conflict! I want dissent! 

I want the scene to represent... 

Our hatred of authority, 

Our fight against complacency 

Stop singing songs about girls and love! 

You killed the owl! You freed the dove! 

Confrontation and politics... 

Replaced with harmonies and sticks 

When did punk rock become so tame? 

These fucking bands all sound the same 

We want our fights we want our thugs! 

We want our boards we want our drugs! 

Where is the violent apathy! 

These fucking records are rated G! 

Why did punk rock become so safe!

Programa 010

Las mujeres están presentes.

Y son mujeres valientes, muy por encima del absurdo y acartonado patriarcado.

No son víctimas pobrecitas esperando a que las rescaten o a que las salven. Ellas pueden solitas o, mejor, acompañadas por quienes les den la gana.

Son pura poesía por derecho propio y no se venden.

Algunos hombres sí. Como Daevid Allen.

Poet for sale,

a real life person for sale.

Buy now!

I have my values,

clothing no extra charge.

Buy now and save yourself trouble,

get a gnoom for your home,

get an angel in a taxi-cab,

get a corpse in a London bus.

Buy me, buy me! Oh yes.

And I will love you, love you.

Buy me and I will love you.

And you, you great fat corporate slut, sold my mental peace.

You who want to run the country, brainwash me, baby

brainwash me CNN, brainwash me Bill Gates.

Clean my brain of your plate, oh mystic angel.

Brainwash me

With my poetry all I can do is speak to you, now. So here I am, I am a poet for sale!

Y es que, aunque lo escriban ellos (Def Con Dos), ellas lo pueden hacer suyo, como aquí hace Arianna Puello.

Buena semana, mujer. Buena semana, compañero.

Programa 008

Se nos ha ido Paco. Retira las manos del mástil y se toma un descanso. Lo que ha dejado, con nosotros se queda.

Y esta semana le queremos dedicar este programa. Porque él era un sinónimo de cultura. Porque lo es el flamenco y porque él era flamenco.
Una profunda tristeza nos guiará hoy en Zonas Goldilocks, esa tristeza que tanto nos atrae en ocasiones.
Y, para darle cuerpo, nada mejor que Soap & Skin con el tema "Spiracle".

When I was a child

I toyed with dirt

an I fought

As a child

I killed the slugs I bored with a bough

in their spiracle

When I was a child

peers pushed me hard

In my head

In my neck

in my chest

in my waist

in my butt

I still beg

please help me

When I was a child

I threw with dung as I fought

As a child, I killed all thugs

and I bored with a bough

In their spiracle

When I was a child

foes pushed me hard

In my

In my neck

in my chest

in my waist

in my butt

I still beg

please help me

When I was a child

I rend my tongue, distraught

As a child

I killed my thoughts

and bored with a bough

In my spiracle

When I was a child 

Fears pushed me hard in my head

In my neck

in my chest

in my waist

I never loved

I still beg

please help me

When I was a child

I bred a whore in my heart

A stillborn child

I gasp for -

The devil into my spiracle

I was a child

I was a child

I am a child

Nos detenemos siempre alrededor de los genios, porque de ellos es de los que podemos aprender. Como decía Bill Hicks, "todos mis héroes están muertos".
No viene mal que venga Ramiro Ledo Cordeiro y nos reviva por unos minutos a nuestro querido Artaud.


Que la tierra os sea leve, maestros.
Y a ti, buena semana.