Said the Gramophone

LOS ZAFIROS

Los Zafiros - "La Luna En Tu Mirada". It had been raining for 38 days. Louie was getting nervous. Everyone was getting nervous. He stood in his shop, tossing pizza dough into the air, catching it with one hand. He scattered pink discs of pepperoni, shavings of mozzarella cheese. With one leery eye he watched the showers outside the window. Louie's mother had called him in hysterics, the night before. "Honey, it's like a PLAGUE!" she shrieked. "It's just the weather," he told her, "global warming or El Nino or the moon or something. Don't worry." She said: "God is PUNISHING US," and then hung up. Now he slipped the pizza into the oven. He wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist. The sky was the colour of the bottom of the sea. Louie glanced up at Jesus and he crossed himself.

Los Zafiros - "La Caminadora". Miguelito didn't understand the point of singing in a fucking harmony group if all the songs were about soupy love and fuzzy memories. Why not sing a song about a jungle, a truck, a train, a fuckin' orchestra? Then they could really show their chops. They could sing the hell out of it. Ignacio could be the piccolo and Eddy could do that weird violin thing with his voice. Miguelito climbed the stairs to his apartment. As a truck barreled past, the walls shook. He imagined the jamming pistons of a turbo-diesel engine. He murmured to himself: "Ba ba deedadeeda wap wap."

[buy - thanks so much, Tom]