Folk bøjede sig og bad til neoguden de lavede…

27. maj 2018

Hello darkness, my old friend
I’ve come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
‘Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence
Fools, said I, you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence

Op pludselig var jeg tilbage ved Torkild Bjørnvig og “Oprøret mod neonguden”, der henter sin titel fra Paul Simons “Sound of silence”, der tilsyneladende ikke er nogen oprørssang. Og dog… Det afhænger af, hvordan man læser Simons sangtekst. Og melodien holder stadigvæk, alle disse år senere. Både i den oprindelige akustiske udgave og den med trommer, bas og el-guitar.

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