La Roue

by KIV Оrchestra

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Jacampanman
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Jacampanman You can always rely on Vialka and their various offshoots to come up with music which confounds and delights in equal measure, and this is no exception. What is it? Well, I'm not sure exactly. An intriguing mix of dark cabaret and klezmer is possibly the best description I can give it. Whatever it is, it's grabs your attention right from the start with the lively Bad Bad Horror through to the wonderfully pulsating closing track Po Shpalam. Favorite track: Po Shpalam.
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1.
I opened the tap to the ultimate Pressure and focused on The running water Hailing Down the sink. I proceeded to washing my hands, Rubbing them on one another Again and again All red down the drain It was surreal, so much blood, like in a bad bad bad bad horror. You couldn't predict your termination: I am the only survivor, of this fiction. Love marked the end of you. It was surreal, so much blood, like in a bad bad bad bad horror. Death with a kiss is what you deserved I keep thinking of the magic moment, Your last breath gone, Smiles carved in my face It was surreal, real freedom, stained and sticky. How I imagined you should go I was too cheap to get a gun Too lazy To think a pristine show It was surreal, real freedom, so much blood, as in a bad bad bad bad horror. Knife, stabbing you once, stabbing you twice, stabbing you more than stars in the skies, stabbing you X times, infinite times, infinite times, infinite freedom in jail now I enjoy Knife, stabbing you once, stabbing you twice, stabbing you more than X times, infinite times, infinite times, final finite freedom in jail now I enjoy Knife, stabbing you once, stabbing you twice, stabbing you more than X times, infinite times, infinite times, infinite freedom in jail now I enjoy I continued to washing my hands, Rubbing them on one another Again and again Still red down the drain It was surreal, real freedom, stained and sticky. You couldn't give me enough of you: I am a perfectionist. God ruined us Penned us on the wrong list It was surreal, real freedom, so much blood, as a bad bad bad bad horror.
2.
06:38
Saoul du quotidien comme un chien enchaîné, Je tourne sempiternellement sans bouger. Matonne, je t'invite à danser sur la roue. Ce soir, amène-moi une corde et quelques clous. Mets-moi à nu je ne crains plus rien. Ligature-moi les membres et les reins. Montre-moi le ciel une dernière fois. Délivre-moi! Oh! Supplice. Bourreau, casse-moi les os des jambes et des bras. Achève ton attaque dans mon estomac. Gisant sur la roue les talons à la nuque, J'attends la mort doucement caduque. Abandonné je ne crains plus rien. La foule savoure l'odeur de ma fin. Je regarde le ciel une dernière fois. Délivre-moi! Oh! Supplice Abandonné je ne suis plus rien. La foule s'est dissoute au petit matin. J'ai soupiré une dernière fois: Miséricorde! Oh! Supplice.
3.
02:31
Trois prisonnières s'échappèrent du pénitencier. Une rousse, une brune et une blonde. Elles trottèrent des kilomètres jusqu'à un vieux pailler où elles trouvèrent des sacs jute pour se cacher. Une heure plus tard deux flics vinrent en patrouille. Les cavaleuses étaient mortes de trouille. Ils inspectèrent un à un les sacs En les cognant à coup de matraque. Le sac de la rousse aboya "wa-wao", Ils décidèrent que c'était un Chiuaua. Le sac de la brune miaula "miaow", Ils s'accordèrent sur un gros matou. Le dernier sac demeura silencieux Les poulets s'étudièrent d'un air douteux Ils matraquèrent alors plus fort Et la blonde proposa "Patates" Картошkи, картошkи, я большой mишok Ох Боже вы ничего не слышalи! Оh, nо ... L'histoire ne raconte pas la suite de l'aventure L'imaginer n'est point trop dur. Mais si vous ne voulez pas finir en purée Sachez un animal imiter!
4.
Practical invasion of disputed territories Taking land and livestock, occupy the mental quarries Invasion in the name of distant system of belief By information, products, soldier, covert action, thief Empty room, empty seat, empty glass, empty hours Why are we here singing anthems in the name of cowards Containing nothing, being nothing, nothing to define Empty house, empty stomach, empty chest, empty mind This is not tradition My ancestors weren't there This is not tradition What you say won't make me care There is no tradition We're all wasting time There is no tradition There is nothing to define Enclosure, a container, as in a box, as in a room As in an idea signaling the impending doom Far west, near east, everything we couldn't reach The walls insides our minds, the prisons that we teach Empty room, empty seat, empty glass, empty hours Why are we here singing anthems in the name of cowards Containing nothing, being nothing, nothing to define Empty house, empty stomach, empty chest, empty mind This is not tradition My ancestors weren't there This is not tradition What you say won't make me care There is no tradition We're all wasting time There is no tradition There is nothing to define The moral of the story is that it's good To forget about things or at least you could When the past is forgotten and the future is too You won't have a clue about what to do
5.
04:15

about

Auris Media
aum-035 / via-012

credits

released June 15, 2012

Marylise Frecheville - vocals (1-3), drums (4,5)
Eric Boros - acoustic guitar, vocals (4)
Boris Martzinovsky - accordion
Ruslan Gross - clarinet, bass clarinet (3-5)
Igor Krutogolov - bass, vocals (1, 5), saw (4)
Guy Schechter - drums (1-3, 5), bass (4)

All arrangements by KIV Orchestra
Recorded on September 9-10, 2011 at Anova Studios by Shimon Tal
Saw & vocals on track 4, accordion & clarinet on track 1 were overdubbed later at different time and different places
Mixed & mastered by Slava Frenklakh at his "home" studio
Executive producer: Victor Levin
Artwork & design: Igor Krutogolov
Special thanks to Slava Frenklakh, Assif Tsahar, Levontin 7 club, Beit Avi Chai, Mark Tso, Helen Buchumensky, Noga Eshed

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Vialka is a DIY laboratory for creativity through sonic and topographical exploration.

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