Já o viram ao vivo e a cores? ;)

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Let me tell a little story....#2

Lyrics available in http://ajigsaw.blogspot.com/

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Let me tell a little story... #1

Lyrics available in http://ajigsaw.blogspot.com/

(clicar na imagem para aumentar)

Idade Rosa

As cartas do barqueiro estão agora tingidas de rosa seco. A tinta escorreu entre jornadas e infiltrou-se no solo percorrido pelos a Jigsaw. Dele brotaram músicas ansiosas, reunidas sob um único nome: Like the Wolf.

Os a Jigsaw regressaram a nós, sacudindo a água da chuva que ainda lhes pesava sobre os ombros. Humedeceram as fendas dos lábios, abertas pelo sal do mar. Lavaram as mãos escurecidas pela terra e despediram-se de um Inverno de intempéries. Estas assolaram a sua embarcação enquanto estavam em alto mar. Quando pisaram terra firme, havia árvores a tombar sobre o caminho e os trilhos haviam sido tomados pela lama. Os seus olhos haviam acompanhado o voo das aves migratórias. Nas suas roupas ainda se distinguiam as tonalidades do mundo.

A figura que dá nome ao álbum seguiu-os de longe. A sua presença apenas se fazia sentir quando o céu escurecia e a lua era dividida pela sua silhueta. No final da jornada aproximou-se a medo. O Inverno havia atenuado as suas linhas, tornando-as familiares. O lobo procurava abrigo da intempérie e refugiava-se na companhia dos a Jigsaw. Foram muitas as histórias contadas por esta figura enquanto se aninhava à beira de Jorri, Susana e João Rui. A passo e passo, o medo desfazia-se sob a forma de uma ilusão. O lobo tornava-se num amigo fiel, de olhos serenos e cativantes, feliz por ter sobrevivido a mais um rude Inverno. Também ele aguardava pelo início da Primavera.

Eis então que os primeiros raios primaveris iluminaram a terra e os a Jigsaw responderam ao chamamento. Chegaram no dia 07 de Março, quando o sol retomou o seu posto. Foi no Teatro Virgínia, em Torres Novas, que os a Jigsaw vestiram acordes extraídos de uma harmónica e de uma guitarra; de um violino e de um teclado; de uma melódica, de um harmonium e de um contra-baixo.

No dia 06 de Abril o banjo, o ukulele e a autoharp prometem juntar-se a esta cerimónia. Quando Like the Wolf chegar, a voz de Becky Lee, as percussões e contra-baixo de Miguel e Gito (Soaked Lamb) serão uma ilusão, que acabou por materializar-se.

Daniela Cortes Maduro

© Sofia Silva, Feb'09


Aged rose

The boatman’s letters are now tainted with an aged rose colour. The paint has leaked between his journeys and has permeated the ground walked by the a Jigsaws, until eager songs bloomed. These wanted to see the world and were gathered under a single name. They are now part of a Jigsaw’s new album: Like the Wolf. The a Jigsaws came back to us, shaking the water-rain which was still weighting on their shoulders. They licked the slits on their lips caused by the salty seawater. They washed their hands darkened by the earth and bade goodbye to the winter storms. These have challenged their ship while they were in open sea. When they first stepped dry land, there were trees falling over their tracks and the trails were turned into mud. Their eyes had followed the migrant birds. It was still possible to recognize the world’s tonalities on their clothes. Now they are back. The character who gave its name to this album has followed them from afar. Its presence was only felt when the sky darkened and the moon was split into two by its silhouette. At the end of the final journey he came closer. Winter had smoothed his lines, turning them into something familiar. The wolf was longing for a safe place and looked for the a Jigsaws’ company. While he was curled close to Jorri, Susana and João Rui he told plenty of stories. Gradually, the fear was turning into an illusion. The wolf was now a faithful friend, with serene and captivating eyes, happy to survive a harsh winter. He too was longing for the beginning of spring. As soon as the first spring sunrays lighted the earth the a Jigsaws answered the call. They arrived on the 7th of March, when the sun recovered its place. It was in the Teatro Virginia (Torres Novas) where this band dressed themselves with chords extracted from a harmonica and a guitar; from a violin and a keyboard; from a melodica, a harmonium and an upright bass. On the 6th of April, the banjo, the ukulele and the autoharp promise to join this ceremony. After Like the Wolf album’s release, Miro Vaz’s production, Becky Lee’s voice, Miguel’s and Gito’s percussions and upright bass (Soaked Lamb) and Carlos Ramos’ drums (Pluma) will be an illusion, which happened to materialize.

Daniela Cortes Maduro

Red Pony (Lyrics)

There are men, begging to be free
Stranded here, against the door
If all of this is real, then the dream is over,
And I, oh my, I am a stranger to you

So what about the moon, it’s mine to steal
So what about the moon, it’s mine to steal, mine to steal, alright!

Red, Red Pony, stand out by my door
Red, Red Pony, stand outside my door, alright

Oh let’s just sing of the old, the good old days
Let’s just bring them back
And hear them on hi-fi stereos

So what about the moon, it’s mine to steal
So what about the moon, it’s mine to steal, mine to steal,
Alright, boys!

Red, Red Pony, stand out by my door
Red, Red Pony, stand outside my door, alright

Lyrics available in http://ajigsaw.blogspot.com/

O Pássaro que alimenta a Alma do Lobo

© Sofia Silva, a Jigsaw, 2009

Seja a maturidade a permitir o equilíbrio ou a natureza a facultar a harmonia do homem, o olhar de abrigo que nos leva a casa será sempre mais denso, indício de um mundo interior cheio de percalços.

Esta nova imagem não nasce de uma lenda histórica, mas do conteúdo de um albúm que se dispõe a um imaginário.
As cartas deixaram de ser guia. A tinta escorre e desvanece e ficamos entregues a um subtexto onde habita um novo corpo.
É aí que vivem os Irmãos de Inverno, com a certeza de fazerem o caminho da virtude e da vida da qual não sabem o fim. Espalham-se trilhos de desejos, para purificar a casa; escavam-se buracos, para enterrar a casca que deixou de ser cartão de visita; elevam-se as almas, para que a natureza possa fazer uso da sua liberdade.
Uma imagem só que diz, como quem grita, aos Homens maduros, para não serem a mentira, nem o medo, nem a falta de amor, é a mesma que encoraja os Homens para se protegerem da verdade e da ingenuidade com que se projecta a música neste universo de Lobos e de vida que sopra melancolia.

SofiaSilva

May it be maturity allowing the balance or nature allowing the harmony of man, the eyes of shelter that leads us home will always be denser, an indication of an interior world filled with unexpected events.
This new image is not born of a historical legend, but of the content of an album that makes room for the imaginary.
The letters ceased to be our guide. The ink drains and vanishes and we are left with a subtext where a new body inhabits.
There live the Brothers of Winter, certain they are travelling the path of virtue and of the life of which they do not know the end to. Tracks of desires are spread, to clean the house; holes are excavated, to embed the rind that ceased to be a business card; the souls are raised, so that nature can make use of its freedom.
An image alone that says, as one cries out, to the mature Men, not to be the lie, nor the fear, nor the lack of love, it’s the same that encourages Men to protect themselves from the truth and the naivety with whom one imagine the music in this universe of Wolves and life that blows melancholy.