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Lipstick On A Pig

by e-cor ensemble

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*Lyrics by Pierpaolo Capovilla, dedicated to Sergej Aleksandrovič Esenin Ora noi ce ne andremo poco a poco In quel paese dove c’è pace e bene Forse anch’io presto potrò raccogliere per il viaggio fragile masserizie Cari boschetti di betulle e tu terra voi sabbie delle pianure di fronte a questa quantità di cose da lasciare non ho la forza di nascondere la mia angoscia ho amato troppo in questo mondo tutto ciò che avvolge l’anima nel corpo molti pensieri ho pensato nel silenzio così tante canzoni ho cantato dentro di me e su questa terra su questa cupa terra sono felice per aver respirato e vissuto sono felice per aver baciato le labbra delle donne calpestato i fiori, giaciuto sull’erba e per non aver picchiato mai… mai sulla testa gli animali nostri fratelli minori io so che là non fioriscono i boschetti non suona la segale dal collo di cigno per questo di fronte alle molte cose che se ne vanno io provo sempre un tremito, un tremore io so che in quel paese non ci saranno questi campi che splendono d’oro nel buio per questo mia cara anche la gente che vive con me su questa terra. ////////////////////// [ENG transl.] Now we are leaving little by little For that land where peace and love are Perhaps, I too will be able to pack my things for the journey Dear birch forests and you soil and you sandy plains Before this amount of things to leave, I have no strength to conceal my anguish In this world, I have been filled with love for everything wrapping the soul in the body Too many thoughts I thought in silence Too many songs I sang to myself And in this world, in this gloomy world I am glad To have breathed and lived I am glad to have kissed women on their lips To have stepped on flowers and laid down on grass Not to have ever hit… never hit animals on their heads Our little brothers I know groves will not bloom over there The rye will not sing from the swan’s neck For this reason, before many things leaving I always feel like trembling, a shiver I know that none of these fields shining like gold in the dark will ever be in that land Nor the people who live with me in this world, for this reason, my dear.
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*Lyrics by RezzaMastrella (taken from the show "Pitecus" by Flavia Mastrella and Antonio Rezza) S. Driiiin ore sei P. So’ le sei, me so’ svegliato co certi muscoletti. Quasi quasi vado a fare footing, le scarpette ci stanno, i pantaloncini pure, non ci sto io però, ‘ndo vado? So’ le sei di mattina, dove vado? Mi faccio una bella colazione: l’uovo sbattuto ci sta, io sto più sbattuto dell’uovo. Ma se devo sprecare forze per rimettermi in forze tanto vale la paralisi. Potrei studiare, i libri stanno là, io sto qua, ma perché devo essere io a fa’ il primo passo? S. So’ le undici P. Mi preparo un bel pranzetto: la cipolla mi sta a aspetta’ a me, il sughetto mi sta a aspetta’ a me, i fornelli aspettano solo che io scocchi la miccia. Ma è possibile che senza di me non si alza una paglia? S. So’ le quindici, mooooorto P. Sono indeciso se dare una pitturata alla casa oppure andare ad aiutare i bambini poveri del Mozambico… ma quando sono stato male io dal Mozambico non mi è arrivata manco una te-lefonata. S. Sono le sette di sera, verme P. Mi preparo una bella cenetta, il sughetto mi sta ancora a aspetta’… S. Ore ventitré P. Comincio a essere stanco. Non mi sono fermato un attimo oggi, il letto ci sta, io ci sto sopra, non mi sono mai alzato, mi godo il riposo del guerriero senza aver mai sparato una car¬tuccia. S. Driiiin ore sette. P. Le sette? Ho dormito un’ora di più… tu guarda come non faccio un cazzo manco oggi. ////////////////////// [ENG transl.] S. Driiiiing, 6am P. It’s six o’clock, my muscles felt all stiff when I woke up. I might even go and do a bit o’ jogging, got the shoes, got the shorts, but ain’t got the inclination, where can I go? Six in the morning, where can I go? A good breakfast, that’s what: scrambled eggs’d be good, me more scrambled than the eggs. But if I gotta waste energy to get me some energy I might just as well go for paralysis. I could study, the books are over there, I’m over here, but why should I be the one to make the first move? S. It’s 11 o’clock P. I’ll make meself a nice little lunch: that onion’s just waiting for me, the tomato sauce is waiting for me, the gas cooker’s just waiting for me to light the fuse. But how is it that without me no-one lifts a finger? S. Its 3 pm – post moooortem P. I can’t make up my mind – should I decorate the house or go and help the poor children in Mozambique...but when I was poorly I never even got a measly phone call from Mozambique. S. It’s 7pm – you worm P. I’m gonna get meself a nice little supper, the tomato sauce is still waiting… S. 11pm P. I’m starting to feel a bit tired I am. Haven’t had a moment’s rest all day, here’s the bed, here’s me on top of it, I never got up, I’m enjoying the well-earned of the warrior without even firing a single bullet. S. Driiiing, 7am P. Seven o’clock? I’ve slept an hour longer… watch how I don’t do a fucking thing today either.
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credits

released January 23, 2019

All tracks composed and played by e-cor ensemble (except where otherwise indicated)*

Recorded between 2015 and 2017 in Latina, except “Muddy Cake” (Napoli), “In a Nutshell” and “Homage to Denis” (Paris).

Mastered by Claudio Pisi Mastering Studio (Rome), November 2017

Mixed by e-cor ensemble, October 2017 (except Compost Tea, 2015)

Produced by e-cor ensemble and Marco Contini

Executive producer: Marco Contini for Kappabit S.r.l.

Original painting on cover and booklet by Luca Pianella


e-cor ensemble are:
Francesco Altilio, Cristian Maddalena and Mirjana Nardelli
[laptop, synth, drum, expanded guitar, samples]


Folderol is a branch of Kappabit Music Division
Contacts: music@kappabit.com

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