© Sofia Silva, Becky Lee, Dezembro 2008
Até agora, só tínhamos as fotos. A Becky ficou de escrever um texto, mas foi tudo tão rápido como um tufão e não houve tempo para nada; apesar do que houve tempo para tudo. A jornada Começou na sexta quando fui com a Daniela a Guimarães vê-la ao vivo. Depois foi a questão logística de como trazê-la para o covil sem as maravilhas técnicas dos telemóveis. Espectáculo…. Depois ir no Domingo buscá-la a Torres Novas apenas com duas horas de sono mal dormidas e 45 minutos no chuveiro. Mas tudo bem, eu e a Raquel, fomos com o Prince até lá abaixo (que compensou o atraso), para descobrir mais tarde, nas palavras da Becky: “quem me dera que houvesse uma estação de rádio que só passasse Prince”. Depois, tivemos uma viagem à Paris-Texas, com a voz da Becky por cima de uma cama feita de água a estilhaçar na estrada com o ruído dos pneus. Mal chegámos ao estúdio atacámos a musica que agora já não é só nossa, também é do Gito e do Miguel e agora também da Becky. Maravilha! Depois, mais uma noite com muito menos horas do que histórias. Houve tempo para canções de natal e para preparar a musica do dia seguinte; para momentos que pertencem agora ao silêncio. Sobretudo ao nosso, mas que se ouvem entre as palavras que ela deixou na gravação. Fica a saudade. Agora já se raspou para terras estranhas, tal como o Miguel e o Gito. E o covil, que sempre que vem um amigo e a seguir parte, fica um pouco mais frio. Só o Jack é que teima em renovar a presença. Fica a saudade.
Joao Rui
Becky arrives to the Lair.
Until now, we only had photos. Becky supposed was to write a text, but it was all very quick, like a typhoon, and there was no time for anything; despite that we had time for everything. The journey began on Friday when I went with Daniela to Guimarães, to see her play live. Then it was a question of logistics and bringing her to the lair without the technical wonders of mobile phones. ... marvelous ... On Sunday, me and Raquel went to Torres Novas to get her from the hotel, with only two hours of bad sleep and 45 minutes of shower. But okay, we went there with Prince (who was compensating for our delay), to discover later, in the words of Becky: "I wish there was a radio station that only broadcasted Prince." After that we had a trip a la Paris-Texas, with the voice of Becky on top of a bed made of splintered water on the road, with the noise of tires hovering.
As soon as we got to the studio we attacked the music that now is not only ours, it is also of Gito’s and Miguel’s, and now, also of Becky. Wonderful! After that, we had another night with far fewer hours than stories. There was time for the Christmas songs and to prepare the music to record on the following day; and there was time for moments that now belong to silence. Ours, above all, but they are still heard in between the words that she left on tape. Saudade remains. Now she’s gone to foreign lands, like Miguel and Gito. And the lair, whenever a friend comes and then parts, gets a little colder. Only Jack insists on a renewed presence. Saudade remains.
Joao Rui
Becky arrives to the Lair.
Until now, we only had photos. Becky supposed was to write a text, but it was all very quick, like a typhoon, and there was no time for anything; despite that we had time for everything. The journey began on Friday when I went with Daniela to Guimarães, to see her play live. Then it was a question of logistics and bringing her to the lair without the technical wonders of mobile phones. ... marvelous ... On Sunday, me and Raquel went to Torres Novas to get her from the hotel, with only two hours of bad sleep and 45 minutes of shower. But okay, we went there with Prince (who was compensating for our delay), to discover later, in the words of Becky: "I wish there was a radio station that only broadcasted Prince." After that we had a trip a la Paris-Texas, with the voice of Becky on top of a bed made of splintered water on the road, with the noise of tires hovering.
As soon as we got to the studio we attacked the music that now is not only ours, it is also of Gito’s and Miguel’s, and now, also of Becky. Wonderful! After that, we had another night with far fewer hours than stories. There was time for the Christmas songs and to prepare the music to record on the following day; and there was time for moments that now belong to silence. Ours, above all, but they are still heard in between the words that she left on tape. Saudade remains. Now she’s gone to foreign lands, like Miguel and Gito. And the lair, whenever a friend comes and then parts, gets a little colder. Only Jack insists on a renewed presence. Saudade remains.
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