Can
Oh, Yeah

"as a kid I spent a fortune on the jukebox for this track...".

Thinking about it, it would be nice if it worked that way.

Like certain supermarkets that tell you if you find something cheaper elsewhere, they’re willing to refund the difference when you buy from them.

And so, in this era where (almost) everything is available for free on the internet, it would be nice to be able to go back in time, like a song sung backward, to go around retrieving all those jukeboxes with our coins inside to get them back.

We would all become rich.

However, I am convinced that once there, to hell with the found money, we would squander it again in the same jukeboxes.

To listen to the same songs from the radio, the beach, the beach kiosk, from back then.

We are all nostalgic, at least I am, I've already said it.

After all, that was how we spent long summer days in the early '70s, besides, for us boys of around ten years, playing football with goalposts made from stones.

Sometimes, however, I wasn't satisfied, I liked to do something else.

One day, for example, I decided to build a kite with newspaper sheets and a frame made from longitudinal sections of cane...

It was an August day, just after a typical summer storm, the blazing sun had returned to dominate the sky like in a primeval summer after a wild wind had swept away all the clouds.

I was just a little more than a child, with no knowledge of aeronautical engineering, but I should have understood that perhaps it couldn't fly.

I climbed onto the roof of my cousins' country house (my relatives, not the ones from "Anima mia", that one played on the radio, but it wasn't their house).

My kite, thrown off the roof, tried to ride the wind, but it was too heavy, and the wind dismounted it.

I tried several times to make it fly, all unsuccessfully, until on the last attempt, finally, I succeed...

The kite takes off, with my joy clinging to it.

Miracle!

Beaming, I come down the stairs from the roof, enter the kitchen, and I'm about to tell my mother about my feat when I realize that on the radio they're playing a "song" I've never heard before, neither on the radio nor on the beach jukebox.

It's in a language I barely know, there are church bells ringing in celebration and bicycle overtakes towards a non-existent destination, with motorcyclist helmets on head, first I'm ahead, then after a few seconds my older cousin, then we stop to drink and start again, then my younger cousin, then all side by side, then by magic, me again, then my older cousin, and so on, ever faster, in rhythm, it's a really "strange" song, just as strange as the fact that my kite managed to fly, and now, keeps flying...

lector: I think this music is anything but cerebral and/or complex. There's the beat, the primordial rhythm, and total freedom. The musicians listen to each other, breathe together and travel without worrying about the destination. It's wild music, in that sense. The emotion lies in the listener's ability to get lost.

Ah! And then it's beautiful Music!

zaireeka: You are convincing, no doubt about it

zaireeka: I need time, anyway, to get on this wind-driven kite

lector: Take that time!

I have already (re)found the time.