Local band Arsènic releases new track “Pols i Boira”
‘Pols i Boira’ emerged during confinement after the group was forced to cancel their summer tour.
Tuesday 29th June 2021 – ÁLVARO MONFORT with Mike Smith
The mestizo rock band from Xàbia, Arsènic, has presented the latest song from their new EP ‘L’Últim Anhel‘. The new track is entitled ‘Pols i Boira‘ and it maintains the catchy character of the band by combining the essence of rock music with the indisputable xabiero sound.
As with the rest of the tracks on the EP, ‘Pols i Boira‘ emerged during the social confinement of the country as the COVID-19 pandemic took hold which forced the group to cancel their summer tour due to the health restrictions put in place to halt the spread of the infection. It is a forced theme, both in its music and in its lyrics (translation below), in which Arsènic aim to extend a message of social criticism to the listener.
Arsènic are Sergi Gisbert (voice and dolçaina), Javier Miragall (voice and guitar), Àlex Moragues (guitar and backing vocals), Juan Vallés (drums), Hector Mut (trombone), Luís García (trumpet) and Sergio Cañadas (bass).
Lyrics
Entrem en tromba en l’auricular
preparats per la batalla,
Arsènic després d’un any,
celebrem-ho amb cassalla,
que ja ens fartava
viure una realitat que rossa la distòpia.
La crítica que més pesava
ha sigut la pròpia.
Ara hem tornat
per fer-ho brillant,
amb els valors per davant
esmolem les lletres.
Ho sent de veres,
venim per obrir ulls
no per alçar fronteres.
Empentem les noves primaveres.
Tot és rosa en la tele,
els murs criden les penes,
i continúa una altra guerra
en que son tanques contra pedres.
Cossos en les voreres,
setanta anys del mateix guió,
Israel exporta apartheid i Eurovisió.
Control de l’opinió,
el quart poder “apreta”,
si alguna cosa no interessa
és que ho finança Veneçuela.
I així avança el món,
entre pols i boira,
esperem el dia en què arribe
el final de la història.
Cada dia gira la roda,
les notícies són igual que les d’ahir.
L’engranatge sembla perfecte, l’esperança tornarà a ressorgir.
Ara hem tornat
i sonen les sirenes.
Censura cada cop més clara:
Hasel, Valtònic entre reixes.
O et calles les queixes
o ofegues les penes,
la por és la pijor pena
amb que ens condemnen.
Principis orgànics,
movent-nos a poc a poc
entre fòbies i pànics.
Esquivant la mort de l’art
entre persecucions diàries.
L’audiència nacional, la inquisició,
som testics de les barbàries.
Condicions laborals precàries,
terrorisme, esclavitud.
Carn per la picadora,
de la cuna fins al taüt.
I si no t’agrada mut,
que si el que dius ho sents,
has de pillar bitllet d’avió
a Brussel·les o a Picassent.
Passat la vida resant a uns deus
i ara et giren tots el cap,
estàs sol enmig d’aquesta mar.
Tot indica que s’acosta el temporal…
La corrent ens guia al penya-segat
i el vent pareix dir que s’acosta ja el final.
Què ens passara?
Qui quedarà?
On estarà l’eixida d’esta realitat que ens té atrapats?
Quant de temps ens queda ja?
Per sortir d’aquesta mar?
We storm into the headset
ready for battle,
Arsenic after a year,
let’s celebrate it with cassalla,
that we were already fed up
living a reality of a blonde dystopia.
The criticism that weighed the most
has been our own.
Now we are back
to make it bright,
with values ahead
we sharpen the letters.
I’m really sorry,
we come to open our eyes
not to raise borders.
We push the new springs.
Everything is pink on TV,
the walls scream the sorrows,
and another war continues
in which they are tanks against stones. Bodies on the sidewalks,
seventy years of the same script,
Israel exports apartheid and Eurovision.
Opinion control,
the fourth power “squeezes”,
if something does not interest
is that it is financed by Venezuela.
And so the world moves forward,
between dust and fog,
we look forward to the day
when the end of the story arrives.
Every day the wheel turns,
the news is the same as yesterday.
The gear looks perfect,
hope will resurface.
Now we are back
and the sirens sound.
Increasingly clear censorship:
Hasel, Valtonic between bars.
Or shut up your complaints
or drown the sorrows,
fear is the worst grief
with which they condemn us.
Organic principles,
moving us slowly
between phobias and panics.
Dodging the death of art
between daily persecutions.
The national audience, the inquisition,
we are witnesses of barbarism.
Precarious working conditions, terrorism, slavery.
Meat for the mincer,
from the cradle to the grave.
And if you don’t like dumb,
that if you hear what you say,
you have to catch a plane ticket
to Brussels or Picassent.
Spent life praying to some gods
and now they all turn their heads,
you are alone in the middle of this sea. Everything indicates that the storm is approaching …
The current leads us to the cliff
and the wind seems to say that the end is near.
What will happen to us?
Who will stay?
Where will be the way out of this reality that has us trapped?
How much time do we have left?
To get out of this sea?
