Implacabilmente autentici, musicalmente trasgressivi ed emotivamente elettrizzanti, Jelena Kuljić e Oliver Steidle ci invitano a vedere la mezza età non come una crisi ma come un'opportunità di trasformazione.
Das Album entstand aus der künstlerischen Chemie zwischen Kuljić und Steidle – beide im mittleren Alter, die experimentelle Elektronik, Spoken Word und improvisierten Sound zu einem intimen musikalischen Tagebuch verdichten. In sechs kraftvollen Tracks reflektieren sie die Paradoxien unserer Zeit – von Netflix und globalen Krisen bis hin zu persönlichen Metamorphosen. Kuljić dekonstruiert mit messerscharfer Ironie gesellschaftliche Erwartungen, während Steidles Elektronik und Percussion einen rhythmischen Kommentar zur menschlichen Existenz liefern. Zusammen zeichnen sie ein intimes Porträt einer Lebensphase zwischen Veränderung, Selbstreflexion und unbändiger Kreativität.
Testi
Zitto, zitto!
Questa è una stanza tranquilla.
Zitto, zitto!
Ho fame.
Zitto, zitto!
Non sono in vena.
e abbiamo parlato di Netflix
e abbiamo parlato della guerra
delle armi per l'Ucraina
e i funghi nel mio frigorifero
abbiamo parlato delle nostre ossa malate
vestiti, ormoni, vitamine,
le nostre carriere e i nostri partner
AI e tutte le crisi
di cui leggiamo oggi
but what is it with the hate in the world
and what is it with my flowers
they are dying, it’s too hot
but there’s nobody to water them
during my Ayurveda retreat
I compete with the time, and how are you ?
let me have a sip of wine
and I’ll tell you what I think
about the elections, the stars and tanks
I’ll tell you how I see the future or the past
through James Webb Space Telescope
how I cope with not having hope
for the world
as long as it gives me comfort
and the feeling of importance
I’m informed, and how about you?
there’s an olive in my mouth
mixed with quinoa salad
and the fruit
strange fruit, bitter touch
a sip of a french wine,
intertwined with words like
strike and mother and all the other
less important people
but have we ever spoken about NATO?
the kids in Yemen or Plato?
la globalizzazione in bocca
mix autosufficiente di gusto, suono e pensiero
niente di nuovo
sempre la prova della vita in questo
favola quasi tridimensionale della felicità e del successo
Io sono pieno, e tu come stai?
Ecco che arriva senza essere invitata
capelli lunghi e biondi
la sua bellezza mi urla in faccia,
con i resti della natura nei suoi occhi
in quegli occhi color arcobaleno
travestiti da fiducia, come penserebbe lei stessa
under those layers
I imagine her short past
her future
and the answers
to why the heck does she think
I’d be happy to get her advice
I hope she’s not planning
To talk to me
with only 20 years of being here
in this world
there is a perfume wall between us
sweet – flowers dung on my tongue
I do not breathe
I hope she won’t talk
I hope she won’t instruct me
about the needs
of my mid – forties face
e poi inizia
con la perseveranza, molte parole
Corro verso quello stato sordo della mia mente
l'unico modo per evitare
le sue idee su come ridefinire
l'età, le mie rughe
le macchie scure e le guance flosce
ah, she knows so well what I need
reciting the lyrics of that Douglas Lied
thinking – I’ll be happy to get her guidance
about the demands of midlife crisis
e la grazia non è ciò che sento
è la vampata di calore che sento,
un bisogno di un sacco da boxe o di un urlo,
un barlume alla fine di questo tunnel pieno di parole...
I need a solution for my mood
not another reason for being rude
if I only could…
I’m shrinking, I’m thinking
whether to buy
the most expensive thing in the store
or nothing at all
I need a solution for my anger
e la grazia non è ciò che sento
è la vampata di calore che sento,
sbalzi d'umore
Nebbia cerebrale
Mancanza di motivazione
Mal di testa
Sudorazione notturna
Tenerezza del seno
Vampate di calore
Interruzione del ciclo mestruale
Problemi digestivi
Rapido aumento di peso
Perdita della libido
Secchezza vaginale
Osteoporosi
Rigidità articolare
Dolori muscolari
Diminuzione della fiducia in se stessi
I capelli si assottigliano
Pelle secca
Acne
Occhi secchi
Rughe
Bocca secca
Gonfiore
Stanchezza
Insonnia
Ansia
Dolore urinario
Sensazione di sudorazione
Bruciore alla bocca
Peli sul viso
Vertigini
Mancanza di concentrazione
Depressione
Ecco che arriva senza essere invitata
capelli lunghi e biondi
la sua bellezza mi urla in faccia
Il suo nome è: Vendimi tutto quello che hai
wide pelvis
little tits
big teeth
little head
narrow shoulders
long thin arms
“hey boy, are they feeding you well?”
30 years later my tits are still small,
yet growing down
I’m cursing the gravitation
That make my eyebrows frown
my teeth seem even bigger
my gums are subsiding
Same sized pelvis, chest and waist
The slim boy’s body became the body of a slim man.
With a cellulite, cellulite
the lumpy-skinned future might be alright.
La mezza età è arrivata. Un taglio netto dalla pubertà al climaterio. Sono isterica?
Un quattordicenne intrappolato nel corpo di una donna in menopausa.
Asana rebel, Asana rebel, today or never
“it was a hard one, but you did it great!
beautiful, hmmm, beautiful…
just have fate, don’t be afraid,
don’t wait to get old without a fight
just give yourself a hug.”
the app lady – my best friend
Dr Hauschka e Kiehls, Tipologia, Omega 3
Shiseido, La Mer, il mio stipendio va lì
Exercising every morning,
2 litres of tee a day, piss the wine away
Play Station and Redemption, Assassin’s creed of Tsushima
Little drum set in the corner,
and vivid dreams of a super-hero-life.
Hey, whatever works, if it makes you happy.
You?! No, not you. I’m always talking about myself!
I forbid you to talk to me about artificial hips,
or how routine that operation is nowadays.
My bones are still strong, but it won’t take long
‘Till the reality strikes…
“it was a hard one, but you did it great!
beautiful, just have fate, and give yourself a hug”
Conosco quel luogo del nulla
della pigrizia regale e dell'impiccagione sacra
un luogo dove non apro mai l'app del meteo,
e ho un pigiama per ogni occasione
a silent protest of the dust spread around all the floors
like grey blow-balls dispersed around the summer afternoon
but I don’t care, I let them live their dusty lives
e io come regina del mio giorno
che sfila tra il divano e la cucina
ordinando e facendo uscire i sospiri di un pomeriggio felice
I make a list of all the things I won’t do today:
I won’t try
I won’t let the guilt to sneak in this light room
only sunlight in the room
I won’t…
I won’t plan, or… I will
It’s nice to spend a minute or two
thinking about me do
nothing else but making blue
like that German girl I knew
she was the best, the master in blau machen
she would be able to make the whole world easy
like Sunday morning,
easy like the feather lost in that baby – blue sky
Everything starts with a cloud.
from big bang to the cloud
to the little big bang of the birth,
to bean stew every Friday,
from hating it to loving it,
to getting sick of it over the years,
to becoming nostalgic about the familiar, and missing that stew again,
working on it until it tastes like mother’s, then passing the recipe to the first friend that visited.
la sottile combinazione di azioni consapevoli e inconsce
rende il perfetto stufato di fagioli.
entropy of my will,
longing for the Friday’s bean stew in my family home,
a bit of stardust,
technology,
infinite procrastination,
hunger, 400g of white beans planted by some Stephan in Oyten,
and extra time that social distancing gave us to start missing the things.
meanwhile the snow stopped,
that tireless boy from downstairs is turning the building upside-down
the universe is still expanding,
my neighbourhood sounds busy,
police sirens acting like Munich is a metropole,
and I’m trying to get my head around this chaotic thoughts,
eager to make an order of this disorder of a system.
all turning towards transformation,
as Greeks would translate.
There is no end. there is only the process that is happening in uncountable Nows.
Now now now…
at the end there can still be some dancing with the dead,
ashes turned into shiny colorful beads,
or what I would choose – sitting on a chair, in the fanciest of clothes,
with a lit cigarette in my lips.
inizia con la nuvola e finisce nella stessa.