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Rating: Things from Another World
The year of our Lord 2002 was when three carefree Iberian bombshells named Lola, Lucia, and Pilar burst with their howls from Fregene Beach into the hottest radios of the Country of the Sun; annus Domini 2002, here reduced to awe not only the devotees of summer-trash-pop but also all the impassive purists of sound incapable of not humming in their minds that linguistic mess that seemed to say something like "Asere-è a-è-è de e e u e se e de se uinoua"... hotties, cunning and wiggle-prone: basically, just bring us some Lucano and we're set. The "Hijas del Tomate," "'E figghie 'ra pummarola" for those calling from Naples, are the three graces: daughters of the namesake flamenco guitarist, magnificent advertisers of origins that no one would have ever been curious enough to ask about; yet, they are the daughters of Tomate, and from here to ketchup is a short step, so short that calling themselves "Las Ketchup" is nothing, indeed. And Ketchup it is. So, in the summer euphoria on Riccione's waterfront, we go wild with these three amusing rowdies: the season seems more beautiful and clear, the neighboring hut's girl seems hotter than she is, crickets and cicadas make love between one bougainvillea and another. Hooray. The party has started.
So, everything flows in indifference for an entire summer, when suddenly, after the rum and pear and radical-chic mud baths, offices and schools open, the rain that ruins harvests of mid-September appears, and the impatient return of Giletti on TV is revealed: it's the end. The end of Riccione and the freak dances of midsummer, the end of the Hijas del Tomate quickly sucked into oblivion, the end of the euphoria marked by a primordial sense of shame: gone are the moments of carefree idle times, we don the toga of serious people again. As weeks go by, everything returns to normal, and in the return to normality, Ketchup and Tomate fade into memory, drowned in an oblivion that only chance can resurrect.
Thus, months later, a visit to those internet byways is destined to renew the memory of the three graces by sheer chance, to rekindle their memory: bewilderment and hallucination, the most aberrant conjectures are unveiled about them. On reliable sources also referencing "La Stampa," well-supported hypotheses concerning the satanic and occult nature of the musical production of Tomate's daughters appear, with two main charges referring to the symbolism on the cover and the text of the aforementioned summer hit "Asereje". The interpretation of the text "Asere je ja de je de jebe tu jebere seibunouva Majabi an de buguni an de buididipi," in what one could hardly hesitate to define as "spaglish," would refer to an invitation to heresy ("asereje"="un ser hereje," meaning "being heretical") in defiance of divinity ("Ja de je de jebe tu jebere"="God allows you to exist"), as if to hint at a vague proposal to adhere to evil without mincing words; the interpretations that follow for the rest of the chorus and the song hint at other devilries like witchcraft and more general blasphemy, with farewell to the innocent image of terrible girls from Valtour village.
No. NO.
We don't want to believe all this; no, we just don't want to, for heaven’s sake. So we take refuge in online research, until we discover the declarations of the trio in the now past summer of 2002: Lola, Lucia, and Pilar, still unaware of the uproar that would soon be raised, refer to the chorus's spaglish (still not officially interpreted) as an unleashed piece improvised by an Afro-Iberian Rastafarian in a mood for linguistic warpings (something that becomes clear from the rest of the text, in more or less correct Spanish), so everything, being left to chance, is open to any reading, but not indictable of wrongdoing. We can also not give a damn about it, and ultimately these interpretations are sometimes a bit forced, but then comes the other thorny charge concerning the record cover, so clumsy and bizarre in portraying three tomatoes accompanied by legs too redundant to appear decorative. In short, the old apocalyptic 666 trick, already noted in groups like Slipknot, Black Sabbath, and even The Police (but what kind of world do we live in?), in a configuration that is now difficult to justify. But ultimately, what good is justifying it, we can also think that the daughters of Tomato had some fun playing around, that they were manipulated by some entourage with a penchant for the subliminal, that they spiced up their Ketchup a bit with some mischief: nothing stops us from making much more cheerful interpretations. However, deep down, we would like to know if they were pulling our leg a bit, we would like to understand if these beautiful carefree summer girls exist in reality, if everything is economic manipulation. We would like to know, but the three graces are no longer seen or heard, nor have they ever officially expressed themselves on the matter. There are tales of an official website's ancient existence, there is no more updated news about it, the last sad appearance dates back to the dreary San Remo over a year ago paired with a certain Danny Losito: otherwise, no appreciable sign of life.
But we don't want to believe it, no, no, Lola, Lucia, and Pilar were in good faith, they made us dance like clowns on beach-party nights in the Aeolian Islands, they made us feel more blissfully goofy. No, it can't be that they tricked us with the satanism story, they have to come back with another song, they have to prove they have nothing to do with all this, they must do justice to a world thirsty for beachside flirting emotions.
Come back, Las Ketchup, come back...!
Things from Another World.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
02 Kusha Las Payas (02:47)
Nos vamos a fuengirola que allí no nos ve mi papa
Nos vamos pa la costa que allí podemos ser malas
Copita que va y viene, chupito que viene y va,
y así me pasaré bailando to el fin de semana.
Y un pa acá y un pa allá, y un salir y un entrar.
Kusha las payas, kusha las payas,
ay qué tremendas que vienen las payas.
Kusha las payas, kusha las payas,
ay qué tremendas que vienen las payas.
El camarero se invitaba, la verdad, no estaba mal,
me siento rompeolas rodeá de gente guapa.
Me mola el chiringuito y esa luna sobre el mar,
no sé por qué será que to lo bueno pronto acaba.
Y un pa acá y un pa allá, y un salir y un entrar.
Kusha las payas, kusha las payas,
ay qué tremendas que vienen las payas.
Kusha las payas, kusha las payas,
ay qué tremendas que vienen las payas.
Van a cerrar, me tengo que ir,
voy a otra fiesta yo no quiero dormir.
Me gusta la noche su ritmo y su color,
el punto de locura que tiene el corazón.
Si quieres mi cariño te lo doy,
si quieres tos los días ver mi cara,
me tienes que jurar que tú te mueras
que luego no te llevarás mis tangas.
Y un pa acá y un pa allá,
y un salir y un entrar.
Kusha las payas, kusha las payas,
ay qué tremendas que vienen las payas.
Kusha las payas, kusha las payas,
ay qué tremendas que vienen las payas
05 Sevillanas Pink (03:28)
1�.- Pink
Voy a contar,
la historia de una ni�a de pap�,
que cambi� D. Algod�n por un liguero color rosa.
La conoc�,
estando en un night club que hay en Madr�,
yo estaba en la barra,
y escuch� una voz: me llamo Rosa.
Ay! Mi papa cuando descubr�,
que la gatita ,
m�s pija y rica de la escuela donde fui, se llama Pedro.
2�.- Pink
Ella era as�,
desde chiquita quiso ser actriz,
y ser la protagonista de una peli glamurosa.
Ni la Monroe, la Garbo, ni siquiera la Dietrich,
ten�an tanto sexapil como la m�s que era la Rosa.
Ay! Mi papa cuando descubr�,
que la gatita
m�s pija y rica de la escuela donde fui, se llama Pedro.
3�.- Pink
Desde beb�,
la madre le pon�a bragas de croch�,
por supuesto, sin dudarlo,
como siempre color rosa.
Y as� creci� mi Rosa sin ninguna represi�n,
siempre con las u�as de los pies
pintadas de color de rosa.
Ay! Mi papa cuando descubr�,
que la gatita
m�s pija y rica de la escuela donde fui, se llama Pedro.
4�.- Pink
Pa' que decir,
que el mejor chulo siempre era pa m�,
me confesaba orgullosa,
entre cigarro, copa y copa.
Segu�a pues,
sacando de su bolso de bagute
y tomaba una tras una sus hormonas color rosa.
Ay! Mi papa cuando descubr�,
que la gatita,
m�s pija y rica de la escuela donde fui, se llama Pedro.
07 Krapuleo (03:29)
Te gusta el Guayte Label,
sabemos que fumas Pamel,
impregnado en Var�n Dandy
te vas a ver si pillas chati, miaque!!
Cu�nto krapuleo, eo, eo, eo, eo ,cu�nto krapuleo veo.
Cu�nto krapuleo eo eo eo eo, cu�nto krapuleo.
Ese levantamiento de ceja te va a delatar,
esa corbata granate,
hijo m�o qu� mal te sienta,
ese pelo engominao
y pa colmo tu raya al lao,
no se puede ser m�s cateto
y no eres nada discreto.
D�nde vas tan roneante,
a qui�n quieres enga�ar?
Si nadie te ha mirao
ni tampoco te va a mirar.
Cu�nto krapuleo, eo, eo, eo, eo ,
cu�nto krapuleo veo.
Cu�nto krapuleo eo eo eo eo,
cu�nto krapuleo.
Te gusta mucho un escote,
y tambi�n un wonder br�,
te tenemos ya fichao
y sabemos de qu� vas.
Se te nota en la mirada
y no lo puedes disimular,
las pupilas se te dilatan
cuando una chati t� ves pasar.
Qu� poca sustancia gris,
pero cu�nto canayeo,
en vez del playboy mensual
a ver si te culturizas m�s.
Cu�nto krapuleo, eo, eo, eo, eo ,
cu�nto krapuleo veo.
Cu�nto krapuleo, eo eo eo eo,
cu�nto krapuleo.
08 Me Persigue Un Chulo (03:07)
Ay mama, me persigue un chulo
Socorro,y es que a mi me persigue un chulo
Ay mama, me persigue un chulo
Socorro, y es que a mi me persigue un chulo
Una tarde de verano superaburridas
llamamos a Mari Carmen para ir a su piscina.
Eso est� hecho ya, veniros para ac�!!
Cogimos el tirachinas y nos fuimos a nadar.
Nada m�s pasar el umbral de su puerta
resulta que las tres nos miramos boquiabiertas.
Mira qu� brazos, mira qu� m�sculos,
c�mo se mueven, c�mo se mueven.
Tiene brazos rollo Popeye,
m�ralo, a este maromo na detiene,
m�ralo, abri� la boca y to lo estrope�,
cog� mi coche, y le dije adi�s,
yo le dije adios, le dije adios, le dije adios, le dije adios
y cogi� su moto y me sigui�.
Ay mam�, me persigue un chulo,
socorro y es que a m� me persigue un chulo.
Ay mam�, me persigue un chulo,
Socorro y es que a mi me persigue un chulo.
De pronto comprend� que no pod�a fallar, y
es que ese maromo no dejaba de mirar.
Mar�a del Carmen, �qui�n es ese nene?
Ese es un amigo y ahora vienen otros siete.
Y se form� un revuelo... pues no dejaban de entrar,
llegaron los otros siete y no sab�a a qui�n mirar.
Cog� las chanclas y mis gafas de sol
y me puse mi poquito de bronceador.
Tiene brazos rollo Popeye,
M�ralo, a este maromo na detiene,
m�ralo abri� la boca y to lo estrope�,
cog� mi coche y le dije adi�s,
yo le dije adios, le dije adios, le dije adios, le dije adios
y cogi� su moto y me sigui�.
Ay mam�, me persigue un chulo,
socorro es que a m� me persigue un chulo.
Ay mam�, me persigue un chulo,
Socorro y es que a mi me persigue un chulo'
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