Newsgroup: it.arti.musica.rock
Titolo: [cantautori "weird"] DAVID DONDERO

...dicono di lui: «You see, it's possible to sing honky-tonky tunes of
heartbreak and loss without being a whiny little bitch about it, and David
Dondero is the bottle-of-whiskey-in-his-knapsack, hitchhiking-to-nowhere
king of that shit. An NPR fave, Dondero's bluesy country rock is funny, sad,
outrageous, and true, as he grapples with his place in the world, both
physically and metaphysically. Prefix is proud to support any artist who
gets drunk and punches his own drummer, then tries to figure out why»
Ecco il lemma di wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Dondero
È venuto alla mia attenzione mentre cercavo altro, grazie a uno stupendo
titolo di album (Shooting at the Sun with a Water Gun).
Qualcuno lo conosce? Consigli, sconsigli, indicazioni, liste DJriduiche?
--
Soffro di non potermi fidare di nessuno, addirittura ne muoio.  Ma quando
uno viene meno a questa regola, a questa legge della totale assenza di
affidabilità, resto deluso. Sì, il minimo atto di correttezza, di coscienza,
di rispetto della parola data, mi colpisce allo stesso modo di una frode e
di un imbroglio (A. Gide)

Da "The Real Tina Turner":
«If it wasn't for the liquor and the weed, I never would have made it
through the winter
Developed a habit of washing your hands to the point that your fingers would
bleed
What's your name? Hey I'm Patsy, are you Irish? No I'm Frankenstein
Well, here's to the best of the "backseaters." I was a real Tina Turner in
my time»
però...

"Pornographic Love Song", qui: 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jzmAIXmwcII
desensitise, the conscience dies
here's to your calloused thighs
here's to your cold, sore lips
here's to your circus ride hips
here's to my clammy cold hands
i feel like a no-womans land
you tried to purchase a plot
a quagmire's what you got
i was in love with defeat
it drives a sporadic heartbeat
well you are the addict in purity
you and your stoned insecurity
using your boyfriends for rent
or fuckin them all til they're spent
well, i cant judge you lover
we are the same undercover
ive posted the same dark entries as you.
your desperate puke stained grin
you're a poster girl for a lifelong sin
hes a pedophile with a chaplins smile
i cant fix what that sucker defiled
lets go makeout on a bench
your heart lockets got a rusty hinge
lets feel false and unreal
lets not feel how it doesnt heal
you were your own lost whore
and im always wantin more and more
your bedroom is a porno booth
i got no money honey, got no use
aint it all so mechanical?
our tainted love, its habitual
i cant trust you, lover
you should never trust me either
ive posted the same dark entries as you
lets not lie any less
unless you cant somehow maintain
heres your script for when you confess
learn your lines this time
now say them again
im just a sucker for fun
chasing your dumb fleeting vanity
livin a life on the run
from a big black cloud of christianity
dont you feel guilty now?
the sex was like milkin the cow
i was your boy for the night
staining your sheets with my blight
well you suck the cock of a swine
how tenderly wasting your time
i cant trust you lover
you should never trust me either
i posted the same dark entries as you