Best Songs – Semanas 6 e 7
No post da série Best Songs passado foi dedicado à banda Audio Adrenaline. Naquela ocasião afirmei que a considerava a melhor banda, que nenhum podia superá-la, apenas igualá-la. Pois bem, a banda das semanas 6 e 7 é capaz de se igualar.
Jars of Clay (www.jarsofclay.com) é uma banda cristã formada em meados de 1993 na escola de artes Greenville College. É difícil definir o estilo da banda pois o som soa diferente em cada cd e esse é um dos motivos de sucesso da banda, conseguindo agradar a vários gostos musicais. As letras das músicas são bem trabalhadas e algumas podem ser consideradas verdadeiras poesias.
O grupo possui nove álbuns – completos – em estúdio e o mais novo ábum será liberado agora em Abril. Contagem regressiva…. 
Assim como o Audio Adrenaline o Jars of Clay, mais precisamente o vocalista (Dan Haseltine) criou uma ONG para ajudar os africanos após uma visita em 2002. A ONG se chama Blood: Water Mission (http://www.bloodwatermission.com/) e procura ajudar nos problemas de falta de água e no controle da AIDS.
Como o Jars of Clay é a melhor banda na minha opinião – juntamente com o Audio Adrenaline – ela contará com o benefício de ter duas músicas escolhidas. Vamos apreciá-las, sem mais delongas.
Clique no player abaixo para escutar:
Música: Oh My God
Banda: Jars of Clay
Álbum: Good Monsters
Letra: (clique aqui para ver a tradução)
Oh my God, look around this place,
Your fingers reach around the bone,
you set the break and set the tone
Flights of grace, and future falls
In present pain all fools say, “Oh my God.”
Oh my God, why are we so afraid?
We make it worse when we don’t bleed,
There is no cure for our disease.
Turn a phrase and rise again,
Or fake your death and only tell your closest friends,
Oh My God.
Oh my God, can I complain?
You take away my firm belief and graft my soul upon your grief.
Weddings, boats, and alibis,
All drift away, and a mother cries…
Liars and fools, sons and failures, theives will always say…
Lost and found, ailing wanderers, healers always say…
Whores and angels, men with problems, leavers always say…
Broken hearted, separated, orphans always say…
War creators, racial haters, preachers always say…
Distant fathers, fallen warriors, givers always say…
Pilgrim saints, lonely widows, users always say…
Fearful mothers, watchful doubters, Saviors always say…
Sometimes I can not forgive
and these days mercy cuts so deep,
If the world was how it should be,
maybe I could get some sleep.
While I lay, I’d dream we’re better,
scales were gone and faces lighter,
When we wake we hate our brother,
we still move to hurt each other,
Sometimes I can close my eyes
and all the fear the keeps me silent,
Falls below my heavy breathing,
what makes me so badly bent?
We all have a chance to murder,
we all fell the need for wonder.
We still want to be reminded that the pain is worth the plunder.
Sometimes when I lose my grip,
I wonder what to make of heaven,
All the times I thought to reach up,
all the times I had to give up.
Babies underneath their beds,
in hospitals that can not treat them.
All the wounds that money causes,
all the comforts of cathedrals,
All the cries of thirsty children,
this is our inheritance,
All the rage of watching mothers,
this is our greatest offense
Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God.
—————————————————-
Música: Jealous Kind
Banda: Jars of Clay
Álbum: Who We Are Instead
Letra: (clique aqui para ver a tradução)
I built another temple to a stranger
I gave away my heart to the rushing wind
I set my course to run right into danger
Sought the company of fools instead of friends
You know I’ve been unfaithful
Lovers in lines
While you’re turning over tables with the rage of a jealous kind
I chose the gallows to the aisle
Thought that love would never find
Hanging ropes will never keep you
And your love of a jealous kind
Love of a jealous kind
Trying to jump away from rock that keeps on spreading
For solace in the shift of the sinking sand
I’d rather feel the pain all too familiar
Than to be broken by a lover I don’t understand
‘Cause I don’t understand
One hundred other lovers, more, one hundred other altars
If I should slow my pace and finally subject me to grace
And love that shames the wise, betrays the heart’s deceit and lies
And breaks the back of foolish pride
