Intense Southern Mood

I guess I'm a bit nostalgic today so here goes a Jorge Drexler song that feels more like a poem. Some of you might remember him as the guy that won the Oscar for making the music for The Motorcycle Diaries a few years ago.

Here's "Mi Guitarra y Vos" (My Guitar and You) and a translation of the lyrics for those of you that don't speak Spanish yet (get on that by the way, we're taking over this bitch soon, one state at a time).



Long live science. Long live poetry.
How alive my tongue feels when your tongue is on my tongue
The water is in the clay, the clay is in the brick, the brick is in the wall, and on the wall your photograph.
It’s true that there’s no art without emotion
And that there’s no precision without craftsmanship
Like there’s no guitar without technology
Nylon technology for the strings
Metal technology for the pegbox, the press, the gouge and the varnish
The tools of the carpenter

The singer-songwriter and his computer
The shepherd and his shaver
The alarm clock that is announcing the dawn
And through the telescope, the last star is still there

Man makes the machine and [the machine] is what the man makes with it.

The plow, the wheel, the windmill, the table in which I put the glass of wine, the curves of the rollercoaster, the semiquaver and even the hemidemisemiquaver. Tea, computers and mirrors, the eye-glasses for seeing near and far, the place the dog sleeps, butter, the herb, mate and the mate straw.

You are with me, we are singing under the shadow of our grapevine. A song that says that we only keep what we don’t tie down. And without having you, I have you… and I have my guitar.

Chorus:
There are so many things, I only need two: my guitar and you, my guitar and you.

There are cinemas there are trains, there are pots and pans, there are formulas to describe even the shells of snails. There’s more. There’s traffic, there are credits, there are clauses, VIP rooms, there are hypnotic capsules and computerized tomographies. There are conditions to the constitution of limited societies, there are baby bottles, there are buses, there are taboos, there are kisses, there is hunger, there is obesity, there are cures for sleep and tisanes. There are designer drugs and dogs addicted to drugs at customs. There are hands capable of creating tools, which make machines to build computers that themselves design machines that make tools that the hand can use.

There are written infinite words: zen, gol, bang, rap, god, fin.

Chorus