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Cosas de Cucho

sophisticated tapestry of Flamenco, Afro-Cuban rumba, and Senegalese rhythms, jagged acoustic guitars and driving percussion, mystical, atmospheric, Highly vocal-centric, characterized by mesmerizing melisma and a soulful, cross-continental warmth, Instrumentation: rich, organic texture of Winds & Keys, flutes, saxophones, and piano, Spanish acoustic guitar work, Percussion: layered West African and Latin percussion, Vocals: Colombian singing, rhythmic vocals Brass: trumpet contributions with a jazz-salsa edge

oview·4:23

Lyrics

* eng below *
* La canción está basada en experiencias de la vida real, pero adaptada a un contexto colombiano./ Song is made out of real life experience but changed to Colombian setting. *

Los nuevos del camello llegaron al parche
pidieron las polas pa’ entrar en el ambiente
Sentados con el viejo, el de barba de nieve
pa’ ver quién es este man, qué tiene en la mente.
Después de dos tragos se suelta la lengua
se cuentan los chismes, las penas del día
Pero el viejo respira, y con calma nos cuenta
soltando esa frase, con melancolía...
“¡Uff, hermano, eso fue hace una vida!”

Son cosas de viejo,
Cuentos de cucho, carreta barata
Es solo eso, pelao
No te tomes a pecho esa vieja lata.
No es culpa de ustedes
que yo no les capte la onda moderna
ni es culpa mía tampoco
que estén tan biches y la vida sea eterna.
Son solo cosas... cosas de viejo.

Hace años que no hago una vaina bacana
que valga la pena contar en la mesa.
Ustedes seguro estaban en pañales
o apenas gateando con mucha pereza.
Eran otros tiempos, la cosa era otra,
ideas distintas, se hacía y ya está.
Y sí, a lo mejor, ya sabíamos todos
que no todo era bueno, ni firme, en verdad.
Pero ajá... así era el meneo.

Son cosas de viejo,
Cuentos de cucho, carreta barata
Es solo eso, pelao
No te tomes a pecho esa vieja lata.
No es culpa de ustedes
que yo no les capte la onda moderna
ni es culpa mía tampoco
que estén tan biches y la vida sea eterna.
Son solo cosas... cosas de viejo.

Y ahora los pollos me echan su cuento
y el viejo se queda mirando el techo
¿Será que así es como se mueve esto ahora?
¡Qué vaina tan loca! ¡Qué despelote!
Pero menos mal que la pola está fría
ahí sí que todos estamos de acuerdo
alrededor de la mesa, la misma alegría
el trago sabe bueno... ¡y brinda un recuerdo!

Son cosas de viejo, cosas del alma
Son cosas de viejo, cosas del alma
No es culpa mía, que les falte calle
Es solo carreta...
Pásame otra pola, mijo.
Son cuentos... de viejo.

----

The new guys from work arrived at the hangout,
they ordered some beers to get into the mood.
Sitting with the old man, the one with the snow-white beard,
to see who this guy is, and what’s on his mind.
After two drinks, tongues loosen up,
gossip is shared, and the day’s troubles too.
But the old man takes a breath, and calmly tells us,
releasing this phrase, with melancholy...
"Uff, brother, that was a lifetime ago!"

They’re just old man things,
Stories from an old-timer, cheap talk.
It’s just that, kid,
Don’t take this old rambling to heart.
It’s not your fault
that I don’t catch your modern vibe,
nor is it my fault
that you guys are so green and think life is eternal.
They’re just things... old man things.

It’s been years since I’ve done anything cool
worth telling at the table.
You guys were surely in diapers
or barely crawling, very lazily.
They were different times, things were different,
different ideas; you just did it, and that was that.
And yes, maybe we all knew back then
that not everything was good, or solid, truly.
But oh well... that’s just how the scene was back then.

They’re just old man things,
Stories from an old-timer, cheap talk.
It’s just that, kid,
Don’t take this old rambling to heart.
It’s not your fault
that I don’t catch your modern vibe,
nor is it my fault
that you guys are so green and think life is eternal.
They’re just things... old man things.

And now the young guys tell me their stories,
and the old man just stays there, staring at the ceiling.
Could it be that this is how things move now?
What a crazy thing! What a mess!
But thank goodness the beer is cold;
on that, we can all agree.
Around the table, the same joy,
the drink tastes good... and brings back a memory!

They’re old man things, things of the soul.
They’re old man things, things of the soul.
It’s not my fault you lack street experience.
It’s just talk...
Pass me another beer, son.
They’re stories... from an old man.

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