Gosto do preto. Gosto de atmosferas sombrias.
Papo quase todos os filme de vampiros, mesmo que estes sejam rascos.
Gosto das cores obscuras de Tim Burton, do terror gótico do seu universo e das pinceladas românticas que tão bem sabe colorir.
Sou dos que pensam que por lei, Burton deveria ser proibido de filmar a luz. Não sabe e não tem jeito para isso.
Atrai-me o humor macabro, a ironia e o sarcasmo negro. Os contrastes violentos do escuro versus palidez, os mistérios das sombras, situadas algures entre a luz e a escuridão, que não sendo pertença de nenhum deles contém em si um pouco dos dois.
Sou dos que consideram que há arte nos cemitérios. As pedras tumulares, os mausoléus, as escultura, os desenhos dos seus jardins, deveriam ser admirados.
Os Phantom Vision são e congregam tudo isto numa estética musical gótica.
Três músicos de Lisboa a tocarem música gótica, electro-gótica e darkwave.
Ouvi as primeiras músicas deles já há uns tempos e esqueci-me que eles existiam durante um largo período de tempo.
Este ano quando anunciaram o cartaz do Entremuralhas do Castelo de Leiria, um festival de música alternativa com especial destaque para o gótico, descobri que iam abrir o festival e recuperei-os para o palco da Esteira.
Uma música clássica do seu repertório é Strange Attraction de Calling the Friends de 2004.
Mas prefiro The End of All Dreams - sou admirador confesso deste tipo de títulos, até porque não acredito neles - do álbum Traces of Solitude de 2003.
Bom fim de semana :)
And the cold voice called the winter
And the winter drowned the light
Into the hearts of the darkness sounds
And the melodies of the night
The fear came with a haunted moon
My dreams fell down and cried
My blind eyes cried out for the last time
And kept with them my own desire
And the hard hand hid the sunrays
And the sky struck in a wall
And the stars flowed down through the memories
Of their last eternal fall
And all the dreams and poetry
That I had inside my brain
Has disintegrated and decomposed
And never ever shone again
It was the end of my dreams
It was the end of my...
And the proud eyes fired the roses
And the gardens in my soul
And made of my poor flowery brain
A desert land in war
The rivers dried out in my head
And my temples crumbled down
And the ruins of my latest breath
Rest by the shadows along the ground
And the strong wind razed the fables
And the legends I adored
The steps I gave through magical tales
And the beauties I loved more
And solitude embraced me
And took me for its bed
And there I stayed in my disease
Shading me off between my dread
It was the end of my dream
t was the end of my dream
And the hard rain blocked the passages
For the beauties in my head
And destroyed the fields of golden trees
And my dreamland overhead
And as I screamed and screamed more
The more my heaven rusted
And my rusted tears from my poisoned dew
Corroded the orchard for my disgust
And the scary moon laughed forever
And her laughs brought the shame
To the pure hearts and to the pure souls
To the victims of her game
And corrosion had driven me insane
And my conscience turned to mad
And I feel the guilt for my innocence
And for the love I've never had
And the rude ground broke in pieces
And crumbled down through my skin
Tore off the sculpture of my pores
And bled my open grin
And I floated on the river of my blood
Through a curse without an end
Dived into pain and agony
And lost the myth that I depend
And my whole dream is lost forever
And my body lays alone
And the flowers of my destiny
Disappeared from my throne
And the tears they have sucked from me
Drowned the magic of my fate
It was the end of pleasure's blend
The end of treasures I created
It was the end of my dreams
It was the end of my dreams
It was the end of my dreams
It was the end of my dreams
