já fez quarenta anos esta colaboração de brian eno com phil manzanera - e a voz e percussão de robert wyatt. 
estas canções devem ter envelhecido mesmo bem porque há quem as ouça agora pela primeira vez e as considere "muito à frente" (ah estes teenagers…)

We are the 801

We are the central shaft

And we are here to let you take advantage

Of our lack of craft

Certain streets have certain corners

Sooner or later we'll turn yours

We are the 801

We are the central shaft

And thus throughout two years we've crossed the ocean

In our little craft (row, row, row)

Now we're on the telephone

Making final arrangements (ding, ding)

We are the 801

We are the central shaft

Looking for a certain ratio

Someone must have left it underneath the carpet

Looking up and down the radio

Oh, oh, nothing there this time

Looking for a certain ratio

Someone said they saw it parking in a car lot

Looking up and down the radio

Oh, oh, nothing there this time

Going back down to the rodeo

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, here we go!

We are the table the captain's table let's get it understood

We are the losers we are the cruisers let's get it understood

We are the diners the final diners let's get it understood

Most of us are tinkers, some of us tailors

And we've got candlesticks and lots of cocktail sticks

We saw the lovers the modern lovers and they looked very good

They looked as if they could

We are the neighbors the nosy neighbors we think just like you would

We think just like you should.

não sei se há apelido mais curto que eno. mas se o talento tem alguma proporcionalidade com o nome 
já não parece tão estranho ele chamar-se brian peter george st. jean le baptiste de la salle eno

I am on an open sea


Just drifting as the hours go slowly by


Julie with her open blouse


Is gazing up into the empty sky.



Now it seems to be so strange here


Now its so blue


The still sea is darker than before...



No wind disturbs our coloured sail


The radio is silent, so are we


Julie’s head is on her arm


Her fingers brush the surface of the sea.



Now I wonder if well be seen here


Or if time has left us all alone


The still sea is darker than before...

fizeram-me o desafio de encontrar uma música que pudesse ser a banda sonora para o retrato acima: escolhi esta canção de brian eno. precisamente quarenta anos depois, ainda e sempre em estado de graça.

There are tins There was pork There are legs There are sharks There was john There are cliffs There was mother There's a poker There was you Then there was you.

There are scenes There are blues There are boots There are shoes There are turks There are fools They're in lockers They're in schools There is you Then there was you

Burn my fingers Burn my toes Burn my uncle Burn his books Burn his shoes Cook the leather Put it on me Does it fit me or you? It looks tight on you

outro enocturno para as horas douradas:

The passage of time

Is flicking dimly up on the screen

I can't see the lines

I used to think I could read between

Perhaps my brains have turned to san

Oh me oh my

I think it's been an eternity

You'd be surprised

At my degree of uncertainty

How can moments go so slow.

Several times

I've seen the evening slide away

Watching the signs

Taking over from the fading day

Perhaps my brains are old and scrambled.

Several times

I've seen the evening slide away

Watching the signs

Taking over from the fading day

Changing water into wine.

Several times

I've seen the evening slide away

Watching the signs

Taking over from the fading day

Putting the grapes back on the vine.

(simultaneously with the last two verses, another voice sings another melody with different words, as follows:)

Who would believe what a poor set of eyes can show you

Who would believe what an innocent voice could do

Never a silence always a face at the door.

Who would believe what a poor set of ears can tell you

Who would believe what a weak pair of hands can do

Never a silence always a foot in the door.

aqui vem ele, o rapaz que tentou fugir para o futuro ou para o passado. quem se lembrará dele?

Here he comes the boy who tried to vanish to the future or the past

Is no longer here with his sad blue eyes

Here he comes he floated away and as he rose above reason

He rose above the clouds he was seven feet high

Here he comes the night is like a glove and he's floating like a dove

That catches the wind in the deep blue sky

Here he comes the boy who tried to vanish to another time

Is no longer here with his sad blue eyes

Here he comes here he comes

Here he comes the boy who tried to vanish to another place

Sees us following him all one at a time

Here he comes and we're checking out each others supplies

And looking at the eyes of all the others standing in the line

Here he comes the night is like a glove and he's floating like a dove

With his deep blue eyes in the deep blue sky

Here he comes the boy who tried to vanish to the future or the past

Is no longer alone among the dragonflies

Here he comes here he comes

Who will remember him

memórias de um rio infinito, sem nascente nem foz, 
quase tão sereno e longo como este nome de 
brian peter george st. jean le baptiste de la salle eno



Here we are
Stuck by this river,
You and I
Underneath a sky that's ever falling down, down, down
Ever falling down.

Through the day
As if on an ocean
Waiting here,
Always failing to remember why we came, came, came:
I wonder why we came.

You talk to me
as if from a distance
And I reply
With impressions chosen from another time, time, time,
From another time.

ainda a propósito do tamanho dos nomes parecer ter importância:
só um rapaz chamado brian peter george st. jean le baptiste de la salle eno poderia ter fundado os roxy music, 
ter uma brilhante carreira a solo e produzido discos de nomes como robert fripp, devo, u2, david byrne... 
e algumas das suas canções são grandes nocturnos que se fundem com a noite



Rosalie 
I've been waiting all evening 
Possibly years I don't know 
Counting the passing hours
Everything merges with the night

I stand on the beach
Giving out descriptions
Different for everyone I see
Since I just can't remember
Longer than last september.

Santiago
Under the volcano
Floats like a cushion on the sea
Yet I can never sleep here
Everything ponders in the night.

Rosalie
We've been talking all summer
Picking the straw from our clothes
See how the breeze has softened
Everything pauses in the night.

o menino brian peter george st. jean le baptiste de la salle eno 
festeja hoje sessenta e quatro risonhas primaveras... 


( mais um que para o ano já usufrui de descontos nos transportes públicos... )

I'll find a place somewhere in the corner
I'm gonna waste the rest of my days
Just watching patiently from the window
Just waiting, seasons change, some day, oh oh,
My dreams will pull you through that garden gate

I want to be the wandering sailor
We're silhouettes by the light of the moon
I sit playing solitaire by the window
Just waiting, seasons change, ah hah, you'll see
One day these dreams will pull you through my door

And I'll come running to tie your shoe
I'll come running to tie your shoe