-We're the same to choose now the whole bin to seen, and then a whole right mary used to cover boss die.
- Brrrr, The checkers of mine keep it cold baby, sustain yeah blue cho woe.
- When they're sayin to choose now the hole bin to see, Then a whole right mary used to cover boss die.
- Wether it's the same as you would copy esteem, you know the chava nava judge is called dream is a sham.
-You're the commin up choose my wife, now let's show the hoba hoba that's gettin lota cover no time.
-Oh my difference to Stan, my life's choosin for my man, give the cause to the much called to rainy girls.
- Oh for something
- My eyes wide senseless and he used some golden diesel....EYES.
- And he called me a sailor, Prisencolinensinainciusol...Alright.
-My eyes wide senseless and he goes so go with diesel....EYES.
- Perhaps you don't sleep without a kid in the scene, till I produce a number jumps...oh had a good time. Let's face it... YO.
- We bin seein in the sand, the rugby shoes become a band, this is two of a kind that never follow other driver's date.
- My Eyes by chance let Prisencolinensinainciusol....EYES
-You'd a called a mega stay walk, please in combination at two-some.....Alright.
-Unation on flues he could Autum and Dawn as people love acid like keeping you on.
- My eyes wide senseless and I guess I'll throw me diesel.....EYES.
-You can call Mega Stream watt, Precinct calling Ace Vantuso.....Alright.
- You'd issue my pills you'd keep at them at dawn, as people love acid like leadin you on.
HERE IS A NEW YORKER PIECE ON THE ARTIST AND THIS MAGIC
April 29, 2008
Stop Making Sense
Posted by Sasha Frere-Jones
I am looking out over the pool of the Hotel Victor, in Miami Beach, preparing to leave for the sunny shores of Pittsburgh, but I have no regrets, because I have Adriano Celentano in my life. (Thanks to William Rauscher, of Acknowledged Classic, for the introduction.)
The Italian actor and singer recently turned seventy, and has spent most of his career as a sort of Italian Jim Carrey, a comic actor with a knack for the physical and goofy. (His style may be the logical outgrowth of an early mastery of the hula hoop.)
He was also a singer, and in 1970 he released a song called “Prisencolinensinainciusol,” recorded with the singer and actress Rafaella Carra. It was performed live, lip-synched but thoroughly choreographed, on Italian TV. The song lyrics are in neither Italian or English, though at first they sound like the latter. It turns out that Celentano’s words are in no language—they are gibberish, except for the phrase “all right!” In this television clip, filmed several years later, Celentano explains (in Italian) to a “student” why he wrote a song that “means nothing.” He says that the song is about “our inability to communicate in the modern world,” and that the word “prisencolinensinainciusol” means “universal love.” (The bad translation is my own.)
In 1970, an Italian man recorded a song long before disco and rap that is very close to both, and then an unnamed person choreographed it for a battalion of dancers in a hall of mirrors. If the results are really as miraculous as they seem right now, and I am not just talking myself into something, it is precisely because “Prisencolinensinainciusol” is such a loving presentation of silliness. Would any grown performer allow themselves this level of playfulness now? Wouldn’t a contemporary artist feel obliged add a tinge of irony or innuendo to make it clear that they were “knowing” and “sophisticated”? It’s not clear what would be gained by darkening this piece of cotton candy, or what more you could know about it: it is perfect as is. Notice that when Celentano presents his song for a second time, nobody makes fun of it, though it would be so easy to, and it’s so much better for this restraint. (Also: more classroom settings for pop stars to parse their own material, please. An hour a month would be enough.)
I don’t often long for worlds gone by, but this clip gets me going. I think Missy Elliott (who hasn’t been around to help recently) is the only performer I can think of in recent times who is as comfortable with ecstatic nonsense as Celentano. Perhaps it’s the lack of a known language that enables people to loosen up. So close your eyes, people, and start typing some songs.