Is This The Life We Really Want? - Roger Waters

Publicación: 2 de junio, 2017.

Productor, mezcla: Nigel Godrich.
Ingenieros: Nigel Godrich, Sam Petts-Davies
Asistentes de ingeniero: Monique Evelyn, Rouble Kapoor, Wesley Seidman; Gosha Usov (Electric Lady); Darrell Thorp (United Recording).
Masterizado: Bob Ludwig.
Masterizado en Vinyl: Barry Grint.
Cortado de laca: Bazza.
Estudios: United Recording Studios, Fivestar Studio, Electric Lady Studios, Wack Formula Studio.
Masterizado en: Gateway Mastering.
Masterizado y corte de laca en: Alchemy Mastering.
Discográfica E.U: Columbia Records.
N° de catalogo: 88985436482 (C.D)
Discográfica U.S.A: Columbia Records.
N° de catalogo: 88985 43649 1 (Vinyl).
Director creativo: Sean Evans.
Diseño: Dan Ichimoto, Danny Kamhaji, Sean Evans.
Fotografía: Viktor Bulla (Smell The Roses), Richard Rowley (The Most Beautiful Girl).
Management: Mark Fenwick, Kate Watkins (asociado).


Tracks:

Disco 1.

Lado 1.

01 When We Were Young.
(Waters)   1:38
02 Déjà Vu.
(Waters)   4:27
03 The Last Refugee.
(Waters)   4:12

   Lado 2.

01 Picture That.
(Waters)   6:47
02 Broken Bones.
(Waters)   4:57

Disco 2.

Lado 3.

01 Is This The Life We Really Want?
(Waters)   5:55
02 Bird In A Gale.
(Waters)   5:31
03 The Most Beautiful Girl.
(Waters)   6:09

 Lado 4.

01 Smell The Roses.
(Waters)   5:15
02 Wait For Her.
(Waters, Mahmoud Darwish)   4:56
03 Oceans Apart.
(Waters)   1:07
04 A Part Of Me Died.
(Waters)   3:12

Tiempo total: 54:06 minutos.

Vinyl Long Play - Edición U.S.A:

Discográfica: Columbia Records.

N° de catalogo: 88985 43649 1.

 Portada.

 Contraportada.

 Carpeta.

 Interior carpeta.

 Interior.

 Interior.

 Etiquetas disco 1, lados 1 y 2.

 Interior.

 Interior.

 Etiquetas disco 2, lados 3 y 4.

Sticker de portada.
The New Album From Roger Waters. Produced by Nigel Godrich.
Parental Advisory. Explicit Content · Strong Lenguage.

Roger Waters:

Voz, guitarra acústica, Bajo.

Músicos:

Nigel Godrich: Guitarra, teclados, collages de sonidos, arreglos de cuerdas.

Jonathan Wilson: Guitarra, teclados.

Lee Pardini, Roger Manning: Teclados.

Gus Seyffert: Bajo, guitarra, teclados.

Joey Waronker: Batería.

David Campbell: Arreglos de cuerdas.

Lucios (Holly Laessig & Jess Wolfe): Coros.

Celia Drummond, Emma Clarke, Ingrid Schram, Jane Barbe, Kathy Somers, Rachel Agnew: Voces grabadas.

Letras:

When We Were Young.

(Waters)

Instrumental.

Déjà Vu.

(Waters)

If I had been God

I would have rearranged the veins in the face to make them more resistant to alcohol and less prone to aging.

If I had been God

I would have sired many sons and I would not have suffered the Romans to kill even one of them.

If I had been God

With my staff and my rod.

If I had been given the nod

I believe I could have done a better job.

If I were a drone

Patrolling foreign skies

With my electronic eyes for guidance

And the element of surprise.

I would be afraid to find

someone home.

Maybe a woman at a stove

Baking bread, making rice, or just boiling down some bones.

If I were a drone.

The temple's in ruins

The bankers get fat

The buffalo's gone

And the mountain top's flat.

The trout in the streams

are all hermaphrodite

You lean to the left

but you vote to the right.

And it feels like déjà vu

The sun goes down and I'm still missing you

Counting the cost of love that got lost.

And under my Gulf Stream, in circular pools

There's ninety-nine cents' worth of drunkards and fools.

The Last Refugee.

(Waters)

Lie with me now

Under lemon tree skies

Show me the shy slow smile

you keep hidden by warm brown eyes.

Catch the sweet hover

of lips just barely apart

And wonder at love's sweet ache

And the wild beat of my heart

Oh, rhapsody tearing me apart.

And I dreamed I was saying

goodbye to my child

She was taking

a last look at the sea.

Wading through dreams,

up to our knees

in warm ocean swells

While bathing belles soft.

Beneath hard bitten shells

Punch their iPhones, erasing

the numbers of redundant lovers

And search the horizon.

And you'll find my child, down by the shore

Digging around for a chain or a bone

Searching the sand for a relic

washed up by the sea.

The last refugee.

Picture That.

(Waters)

Picture yourself as you lean on the port rail

Tossing away your last cigarette

Picture your finger pushing the doorbell

Picture the skull and crossbones on the doormat.

Picture yourself on the streets of Laredo

Picture the casbah, picture Japan

Picture your kid with his hand on the trigger

Picture prosthetics in Afghanistan.

Picture a courthouse with no fucking laws

Picture a cathouse with no fucking whores

Picture a shithouse with no fucking drains

Picture a leader with no fucking brains.

Follow me filming myself at the show

On a phone from a seat in the very front row

Follow Miss Universe catching some rays

Wish You Were Here in Guantanamo Bay.

Picture a seat on a private plane

Picture your feet nailed to the floor

Picture a crew who are clearly insane

Picture no windows, picture no doors.

Glued to a screen in the state of Nevada

To follow the dream gets harder and harder.

Picture her wrapping a gift for the wedding

Picture her boiling the water for tea

Picture the kids climbing into the backseat

Picture my hand turning the keys.

Oh, picture that...

Picture the dog in the pickup ahead

Picture the tree at the side of the road

Picture my hands growing steadily colder

Follow me down to a place by the river

Sold for my kidneys, sold for my liver

Why so weedy, so fucking weedy?

There's no such thing as

being too greedy.

Broken Bones.

(Waters)

Sometimes I stare at the night sky

See them stars a billion light years away

And it makes me feel small like a bug on a wall

Who gives a shit anyway?

Who gives a shit anyway?

When World War II was over

Though the slate was never wiped clean

We could have picked over them broken bones

We could have been free.

But we chose to adhere to abundance

We chose the American Dream

And ooo, Mistress Liberty -

How we abandoned thee.

How

We abandoned thee

And oh, Mistress Liberty

How we abandoned thee.

Could've been born in Shreveport

Or he could've born in Tehran

It don't much matter wherever you're born

Little babies mean us no harm

They have to be taught to despise us

To bulldoze our homes to the ground

To belief their fight is for liberty

To believe their god will keep them safe and sound.

Safe and sound

Safe and sound.

We cannot turn back the clock

Cannot go back in time

But we can say:

Fuck you, we will not listen to

Your bullshit and lies

Your bullshit and lies.

Is This The Life We Really Want?

(Waters)

Donald Trump:

"As a example you're CNN. I mean it's story, after story, after story is bad. I won. I won. And the other thing, chaos. There's zero chaos. We are running - this is a fine-tuned machine..."

The goose has gotten fat

On caviar and fancy bars

And subprime bones

And broken homes.

Is this the life, the holy grail?

It's not enough that we succeed

We still need others to fail.

Fear, fear drives the mills of modern man

Fear keeps us all in line

Fear of all those foreigners

Fear of all their crimes.

Is this the life we really want?

It surely must be so

For this is a democracy and what we all say goes.

Every time a student

is run over by a tank

And every time a pirate's dog

is forced to walk the plank.

Every time a Russian bride

is advertised for sale

And every time a journalist

is left to rot in jail.

Every time a young girl's life

is casually spent

And every time a nincompoop

becomes the president.

Every time somebody dies

reaching for their keys

And every time that Greenland

falls in the fucking sea.

It's because.

All of us,

the blacks and whites

Chicanos, Asians -

every type of ethnic group

Even folks from Guadalup,

the old, the young

Toothless hags,

supermodels,

actors, fags,

bleeding hearts

Football stars,

men in bars,

washer women,

tailors, tarts

Grannies, grandpas, uncles, aunts

Friends, relations,

homeless tramps

Clerics,

truckers,

cleaning ladies, ants.

Maybe not ants

Why not ants?

Well, because it's true

The ants don't have enough IQ

to differentiate between

The pain that other people feel

And well, for instance,

cutting leaves

Or crawling across window sills

In search of open treacle tins

So like the ants, are we just dumb?

Is that why we don't feel or see

Or are we all just numbed out on reality TV?

So every time

The curtain falls

Every time the curtain falls

on some forgotten life

It is because we all stood

by silent and indifferent.

It's NORMAL!

Bird In A Gale.

(Waters)

Are you blowing

like a bird in a gale?

Does the pain of your loss

seep into your feathers like rain?

Do the bars of your cage

feel low or cold to the touch?

Were my caresses too gentle?

Did I love you too much?

The dog is scratching at the door

The boy is drowning in the sea

Can I crash out on your floor?

The loon is howling at the sea

Can I crash out on your floor?

Is there room in the story for me?

The Most Beautiful Girl.

(Waters)

She may well have been

The most beautiful girl in the world

Her life snuffed out

Like a bulldozer crushing a pearl.

The secret committee

Deep in its lair

Conveniently far

From the cold desert air

Puts a tick in a box,

Turns the key in a lock

To loosen the bonds in her hair.

Sleep if you can

Wrapped safe in your cloak

The tumbledown twilight

Havana smoke

Caught in your throat

Mistress Liberty's dance

Held you in its trance

Her bosoms were loaded with nectar and lances

"Well, boys", she said

"You have broken the trust.

Hold onto that stick if you must."

Take a fresh grip

On the crucible rune

The patchwork of ashes

Sweeps away love like a broom

Madness comes down

Like the crackpot of ages

The raging of angels

Cathedral of stars

Christopher Robin says

"Alice, go home now.

They're no longer changing the guard."

"Hold on", she said

"You're breaking my heart"

It's weird how the steel rails

Disappear into the dark

They clung to the ivory tower on her braids

They were never afraid of falling

But the bomb hit the spot where the numbers all stop

And the last thing they heard was her calling...

Home

Home, I'm coming home

I'm the life that you gave

I'm the children you save

I'm the promise you made

I'm the woman you crave.

So hold on

I'm coming home

(Hold on, I'm coming home)

Smell The Roses.

(Waters)

There's a mad dog pulling at his chain

A hint of danger in his eye

Alarm bells raging 'round his brain

And a chimney smoking in the sky.

Wake up

Wake up and smell the roses

Close your eyes and pray this wind don't change.

There's nothing but screams in the field of dreams

Nothing but hope at the end of the rope

Nothing but gold in the chimney smoke

Come on honey, it's real money.

This is the room where they make the explosives

Where they put your name on the bomb

Here's where they bury the "buts" and the "ifs" and

scratch out words like "right" and "wrong"

Wake up

Wake up and smell the phosphorus

This is the room we keep the human hair.

Don't ask don't tell, it could mean a loss for us

Yeah, a little less cash in the stash

in the cupboard at the bottom of the stair -

Money, honey.

Wake up

Wake up and smell the bacon

Run your greasy fingers through her hair

This is the life that you have taken.

Just a line in the captain's log

Just a whine from a resident dog

Another kid didn't make the grade

Come on honey, it's a fair trade.

Wake up

Wake up and smell the roses

Throw her photo on the funeral pyre, yeah

Now we can forget the threat she poses

Girl you know you couldn't get much higher.

Wait For Her.

(Waters, Mahmoud Darwish)

Will a glass inlaid with gemstones

On a pool around the evening

Among the perfumed roses

Wait for her.

With the patience of a packhorse

Loaded for the mountains

Like a stoic, noble prince

Wait for her.

With seven pillows laid out on the stair

The scent of womens' incense fills the air

Be calm, and wait for her.

And do not flush the sparrows that are nesting in her braids

All along the barricades

Wait for her.

And if she comes soon

Wait for her.

And if she comes late

Wait.

Let her be still

As a summer afternoon

A garden in full bloom.

Let her breathe in the air

That is foreign to her heart

Let her lips part

Wait for her.

Take her to the balcony

See the moon soaked in milk

Hear the rustle of her silk

Wait for her.

Don't let your eyes alight upon

The twin doves of her breast

Lest they take flight

Wait for her.

And if she comes soon

Wait for her.

And if she comes late

Wait, wait.

Serve her water before wine

Do not touch her hand

Let your fingertips

Rest at her command

Speak softly as a flute would

To a fearful violin

Breathe out

Breathe in.

And as the echo fades

From that final fusillade

Remember the promises you made.

Oceans Apart.

(Waters)

She was always here in my heart

Always the love of my life

We were strangers, oceans apart

But when I laid eyes on her a part of me died.

A Part Of Me Died.

(Waters)

The part that is envious

Cold hearted and devious

Greedy, mischievous

Global, colonial

Bloodthirsty, blind

Mindless and cheap

Focused on borders

And slaughter and sheep

Burning of books

Bulldozing of homes

Giving to targeted killing with drones

Lethal injections

Arrest without trial.

Monocular vision

Gangrene and slime

Unction, sarcasm

Common assault

Self-satisfied heroic killers

Lifted on high.

Piracy adverts

Acid attacks

On women by bullies

And perverts and hacks

The rigging of ballots

And the buying of power.

Lies from the pulpit

Rape in the shower

Mute, indifferent

Feeling no shame

Portly, important

Leering, deranged.

Sat in the corner

Watching TV

Deaf to the cries of

Children in pain

Dead to the world

Just watching the game.

Watching endless repeats -

Out of sight, out of mind

Silence, indifference:

The ultimate crime

But when I met you

That part of me died.

Bring me a bowl

To bathe her feet in

Bring me my final cigarette

It would be better by far to die in her arms

Than to linger

In a lifetime of regret.

Otras ediciones, incluidas en este sitio:

💿 C.D Europa · Columbia Records · 88985436482.

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Roger Waters - Uncut 2017-07: The Comeback. The Interview.