•
Rating: There are albums that surpass their beauty with charm. It's for those albums that I reserve a special place, for those works that carry their years, collapsing under the weight of time. It works like with people: if you have charm, the passage of time on your body—despite thinning hair, despite some expanding waistline—can only increase your charm.
This "Lungs" sounds, today, as old as it is original for its geographical relocation of the New Wave, for the sounds that come from a parallel universe they are so improbable. I bet the Albini of today, in his splendid "forties and beyond", will look at this album without the embarrassment mixed with disapproval felt in front of old photos depicting ourselves with our anguishing hairstyles.
To the twenty-year-old Albini of 1982, it must have seemed like a big deal to suddenly find himself kicked out of the band and all alone. Among the many paths possible, none must have seemed particularly good. Alone, with the contribution of John Bohnen on sax,, the faithful Roland and a four-track borrowed for a crate of beer,, in two weeks,, divided between two apartments,, he gave life and home to his creature.
"Lungs" is one of those parties held at some unknown person's house, which you attended by mistake and that ends with you collapsed on some unknown person's couch and with your mood at the "Big Black" stage. A party to which the P.I.L. accidentally attended, who came by invite of the Gang of Four who picked up the Wire as well, with the van lent to them by the Joy Division, while faithful Roland, your only friend, watches them suspiciously.
Thus, a New Wave concentrate with an Illinois accent. Not the Big Black, but Albini a year before the Big Black, but already in Big Black.
Three and a half stars.
Tracklist and Lyrics
01 Steelworker ()
The only good policeman is a dead one
The only good laws aren't enforced
I've never hung a darkie, even a big one
I've never seen an Indian on a horse
And I live like this 'cause I like it
And seen too much to pretend
You can't ignore the beauty in the things that you love
Like you can't stand the hatred and the lies
Have you always hunted with your hands?
Can you show me what you've done?
Have you always hunted with your hands?
If you catch it, can you kill it?
You don't understand, see you don't understand
See, I'm like a murderer, see, I'm like a murderer
And I could rip you limb from limb
And I could rip you limb from limb
Great big thing crawlin' all over me
Great big thing crawlin' all over me
See, I'm like a murderer, I kill what I eat
See, I'm like a, I'm a hunter-gatherer, see, I kill what I eat
See, I'm a steelworker, I kill what I eat
See, I'm, I'm a bricklayer, I kill what I eat
See, I'm a, I'm a murderer, I kill what I eat
See, I'm a, I'm a hunter-gatherer, I kill what I eat
See, I'm a steelworker, I kill what I eat
I'm a, I'm a bricklayer, I kill what I eat
Great big thing crawling all over me
Great big thing crawling all over me
Great big thing crawling all over me
Have you always hunted with your hands?
Can you show me what you've done?
Have you always hunted with your hands?
If you catch it, can you kill it?
I live like this 'cause I like it
And I've seen too much to pretend
You can't ignore the beauty in the things that you love
Like you can't stand the hatred and the lies
See, see, see I'm a murderer, I kill what I eat
See, I'm, I'm a bricklayer, I kill what I eat
See, I'm a steelworker, I kill what I eat
It's a great big thing crawlin' all over me
Great big thing crawlin' all over me
Great big thing crawlin' all over me
06 Rip ()
That man's shirt is worth more than your life
And I'd rather kill him than insult you
He hasn't the sense to know we're fighting
He hasn't the fear to run
We have to rip this up
It doesn't look quite right
People like that, too dirty to save
Better watch out, friend
He's gonna get torn
When I poke my fingers in it
I tear him apart
Cover your ears
They make a lot of noise
We have to rip this up
It doesn't look quite right
Loading comments slowly
