04​-​04​-​2014 Teatro Aveirense

by Souq

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04:38
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04:41
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08:51
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10:03
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08:34
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08:46
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11:06

credits

released July 8, 2015

Recorded live in Teatro Aveirense, Aveiro, Portugal. 04-04-2014

Souq:

Bruno Barreto - Bass
Bruno Tavares - Vocals
Gabriel Neves - Tenor Sax
Jorge Loura - Guitar & Backing Vocals
Jorge Oliveira - Drums
Paulo Gravato - Baritone Sax
Rui Bandeira - Bass Trombone

Live sound engineering and recording - Xavier Marques
Live sound and recording assistants - João André Lourenço & Bruno Gomes
Lighting design and engineering - Dino Costa
Production and technical assistance - Pedro Fernandes, David Figueiredo, Marco Duarte & Lino Aidos
Mixed and mastered by Xavier Marques

Album cover & photo - Paulo Moreira

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about

Souq Aveiro, Portugal

Souq is a portuguese rock band formed in 2009.
Picking from their rock roots, Souq embraces psychedelia, blues, pop or jazz to build a sound that is always dynamic and hard-hitting, as if Captain Beefheart was playing Dave Brubeck songs with Black Sabbath as a backing band. The first result is the concept album "At La Brava - Volume Two Of Red Desert Saga", out now. ... more

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Track Name: Desert Snake Catcher
A thin blue line
Runs through the desert sky
Reflected in my face
Adventured herself in a place, without a name.

No name, no sound succeeds…
I saw them make that turn
The tires screech
The car vanishes…
Tarmac

Evades, escapes
A “kill-her” pitch
Shift up, head down
Don’t make a (single) sound

A thin red line
Burns the highway.
We drive by…
The gasoline smell… hypnotize me
A burning finger in my eye.
Track Name: Maniqueen
A chocolate mannequin
Over three decrepit buildings
Living without shape or colour.
Crowded streets, pathetic and broken
Writing disfiguration
By a grotesque figure with a suit.

Impersonal limousines, through surrounding mazes
And the imposition of the obvious and obscure…
Underground structures in which we see graffiti letters
As we smile,
A delicious red smile.

FASHION SLAVES REVEAL NOTHING (more than)
STAR CLONES HOLDING
CARDBOARD SIGNS
BEGGING FOR ANYTHING BUT MY…
ATTENTION.

High, above the taxis
Blue tin cans and all that black clientele
Dance under our brightly coloured shoes.
An uninspiring ceiling
Soft, muted laughter.
(A delicious red smile)
Track Name: Card Player
Eight men gathered, away from the struggle outside.
Sounds are very close. Bums in the alley…
Gunmen, extortionists and labour spies…
The player closer to the window shuts it.
Almost all the money is on the table.
A couple more drinks and another cigarette.

FULLHOUSE
THE GAME IS OVER
JACKIE WINS
FULLHOUSE
THE PLAYER LOSES
JACKIE WINS

Jack disappears through a door marked: MEN.
He is waiting when the door is open.
The right hand in his coat pocket
A razor with his blade snapped open.

(Jack gets his gun, pushes the player to the wall. They fight.)

- “You are under arrest Joe Gyilkos!”
Track Name: At La Brava
Our song plays and it is dark.
We don’t see clearly, they move, the song continues
Oh… so slightly, slightly…

She straddles his chest
Lean down, kiss him,
Caress him, keep moving,
Man… She’s so good looking
He is low and vicious.

The cards are resting, down at the side table.
The white skin throat he grabs now smells like the devil.
We’ve stayed behind all this time
Loosing and tightening our silk ties
Her tongue in his mouth pulsing like a heartbeat
Handcuffs in his wrists

EYES CLOSED… TIGHTER!
STEEL RED MURDER… INSIDE HER!

The job is done. She finally meets him: the Big Boss!
Nice suit... Tall… Silver beard…
- “The money’s here!”
A classic beautiful face.
Charming…
The Aston Martin in the driveway.
She looks away… Look away!

A blank expression in her face (I know who you are)
His eyes are dark… ravishing…
Watches her body smiling…
Off-balanced, tentative she goes ahead of him.
He opens the Ferrari’s door and she gets in.

Sharp turns in a dangerous road…
Hum … this girl is poison… Dazzling woman!!!
Track Name: This Thing Of Ours
A tall, elegant man, in a dark suit
Emerges from the 9 mile road…
After shooting them in the club “Milt”
He felt like a king, whispering: Gunfire…

I’M AN OLDER DOPE MAN ON THE T.V.
I’M AN OLDER DOPE MAN FOR THE SCREEN
I’M AN OLDER DOPE MAN ON THE T.V.
JUST ANOTHER DOPE FIEND


Celebrities, politicians, actor, models…
Filthy crowd in a pigsty…
The Bentley stops…
The mayor happily poses for the “Madame”.
- “Is Cynthia here tonight?”
- “Room 36” – she says
He sweats, she sweats…


- “All I want is her skin in/and Cristal.”
Track Name: Point Blank
From now on there is no turning back
And in your dreams, wonders will be real and blur.
I’m so sorry for my air
And for consuming your words

And in the touch of your own skin
The disharmony of your own skin
The sharpness of your own skin
… Is he/me!

Mirrors and orange under skin
The Super-Soul’s station in the next morning.

ELIXIR OF VIOLENCE
STAR OF MY OWN GALAXY
MY HANDS ARE BURNT
(‘CAUSE THEY) CAN’T HANDLE YOUR CLARITY

I will wait for the doves
In the face of a woman.
But I never did ask if she was mine.
She’s warm like ice
And cold like my heart.
Track Name: Blood On Dry Year
Do not touch this.
The best thing to do, here, is close our eyes.
Cut off our tongue,
Erase the cruel veins out of this room.

Happy… the body‘s happy…my body’s happy
Your body’s happy…
Our body’s happy!

ALL THE TIME I WRITE A LINE
I CAN’T HIDE MY DESIRE

Anguished by the lack of smoke
I cough an evidence ball
Rut, eat, oestrum,
Animal cancriform
We’re young
On dry year’s blood!
Track Name: Roy & Lee
Shouted goodbyes are heard
They’re obviously hung-over
An iconic eight-ball rides over the dashboard

-“Pay no mind to that robbery!”
She takes something out and snorts it
A business man is waving his arm and screaming to the mob:
- “Vote for no one… but me!”

SHE BURNS THE GOLD ON THE TIN FOIL SHEET.
HE CAN MANAGE TO INHALE THE PLUME OF SMOKE IN TIME.

The phony pantomime is over
He is mellow and in control.
“She’s already zonked out on something, I suppose it’s coke.”

A pile of brown heroin
A tin foil sheet
She’s preparing the implements for:
- “Chasing the dragon in…”
Track Name: Feathers
An indistinct regathering of napalm mist.
The air is too thick to breathe… our world is dead.
The night summons to bed. I hear that faceless voice.
Make me evolve in a universe of reflection.

Enthusiasm and the weight of my disposition
Plant a seed in my mind, over self-preservation
You look like a “Blue Delta God”, talking to a goddamn chair.
What is this? The burning bush…

RED FLAMING SKY, FALLS WITH HIM INTO PARADISE
INDIAN FEATHERS, PIERCE HIS THOUGHTS LIKE ICE (EYES)