This album would not have been possible without your help. Thanks so much for encouraging us in every concert. We would like to say a special thanks to our families for their continuous unconditional support. Thank you! For the original Spanish version see: https://silentoduo.com/libreto-piedra-y-camino
1. Caminando (Víctor Lidio Jara Martínez) * [5:25] Original title: Caminando caminando Coda Ediciones Musicales, Manuel Quiroga Ediciones S. L.
2. Alfonsina y el mar (Ariel Ramírez / Félix César Luna) * [5:12] Lagos Editorial / Canciones Warner Internacional
3. Wild mountain thyme (scottish traditional) * [4:12] 4. Durme, durme (sephardic traditional) * [6:08] 5. Canción del fuego fatuo (Manuel de Falla Matheu / Gregorio Martínez Sierra / María de la O Lejárraga García) * [3:14] From El Amor Brujo Manuel de Falla Ediciones S. L. / UME International / Chester Music
6. Balderrama (Gustavo “Cuchi” Leguizamón / Manuel José Castilla) * [3:50] Lagos Editorial / Canciones Warner Internacional
7. Cucurrucucú, paloma (Tomás Méndez Sosa) * [6:56] Peermusic Española S. A. / Edit. Mex. de Música Int. S. A.
8. Volver a los diecisiete (Violeta Parra Sandoval) * [5:15] Lagos Editorial / Canciones Warner Internacional
9. Tatuaje (Manuel López-Quiroga Miquel / Rafael de León Arias de Saavedra / Alejandro Rodríguez Gómez) * [5:55] Manuel Quiroga Ediciones S. L.
10. Pequeño vals vienés (Leonard Cohen / Federico García Lorca) [7:08]
Sony ATV Music Publishing Acquisition I. N. C. / SM Publishing Iberia S. R. L. / EMI Songs España S. R. L.
11. Piedra y camino (Héctor Roberto Chavero (Atahualpa Yupanqui)) * [2:29] Tierra-Linda Editorial Musical / Warner Chappell Music Spain S. A.
* Original arrangements by Ana Ferrer and Celina Jiménez, Silento.
Walking Uh uh… Ah hey… Walking, walking, I go looking for freedom, I wish to find a path to continue walking, I wish to find a path to continue walking. Walking, walking… It is difficult to find clarity in the shadow, when the sun that shines upon us bleaches the truth, when the sun that shines upon us bleaches the truth. Walking, walking… Hey hey… How long must I have been gone? Since when am I arriving? How long have I been walking? Since when have I been walking? How long have I been walking? Since when have I been walking? Walking, walking… Ah hey…
Walking, walking… Walking, walking…
Alfonsina and the sea Across the soft sand that the waves lick, her small footprints are not coming back anymore, only one path made of sorrow and silence reached the deep water, only one path made of untold sorrows reached the foam. Only God knows about the anguish that accompanied you and about the old pains your voice never told that caused you to go to sleep, lulled by the song of the seashells, the song sung in the depths of the dark sea by the seashell. You’re going away, Alfonsina, along with your loneliness, What kind of new poems did you go looking for? An ancient voice made of wind and salt is shattering your soul and taking you away, and you go there, like in a dream, asleep, Alfonsina, dressed with the sea. Five little mermaids will escort you through paths made of seaweed and corals, and phosphorescent sea horses will dance a round by your side, and the aquatic dwellers will soon play by your side. Dim the light of the lamp a bit for me, let me sleep in peace, nurse, and if he calls don’t tell him I’m here, tell him that Alfonsina is not coming back, and if he calls never tell him I’m here, tell him that I have left. You’re going away, Alfonsina, along with your loneliness, What kind of new poems did you go looking for? An ancient voice made of wind and salt is shattering your soul and taking you away and you go there, like in a dream, asleep, Alfonsina, dressed with the sea.
Wild mountain thyme O the summer time has come and the trees are sweetly bloomin’, the wild mountain thyme grows around the bloomin’ heather. Will ye go, lassie, go? Mm Mm Mm Mm Mm I will build my love a bower by a yon crystal fountain and around it I will pile all the wild flow’rs of the mountain. Will ye go, lassie, go? And we’ll all go together to pull wild mountain thyme all around the bloomin’ heather. Will ye go, lassie, go? Uh Uh Uh Uh Uh And we’ll all go together... If my true love, she’ll not come then I’ll surely find another to pull wild mountain thyme all around the bloomin’ heather. Will ye go, lassie, go? And we’ll all go together... And we’ll all go together... And we’ll all go together...
Sleep, sleep Sleep, sleep, my beautiful son, sleep, sleep sweetly. Out of the cradle, you will go to school. Out of the cradle, you will go to school. And then, my beloved son, you will learn the Aleph-bet. And then, my beloved son, you will learn the Aleph-bet. Sleep, sleep, my lovely son, sleep, sleep free from worry and grief. Sleep, sleep, my lovely son, sleep, sleep free from worry and grief. Close your beautiful eyes, sleep, sleep sweetly. Close your beautiful eyes, sleep, sleep sweetly. Out of the school, you will have a lovely bride. Out of the school, you will have a lovely bride. And then, my beloved son, you will have your own children. And then, my beloved son, you will have your own children.
Sleep, sleep mmm Sleep, sleep mmm
Song of the will-o’-the-wisp Fffff Damned, damned! Fffff Like the will-o’-the-wisp, the very same is love. Like the will-o’-the-wisp, the very same is love. You run from it, and it follows you, you call it, and it runs away. Like the will-o’-the-wisp, the very same is love! Damned be the dark eyes that were able to see him. Damned be the dark eyes that were able to see him. Damned be the saddened heart that wanted to burn in his flame! Like the will-o’-the-wisp, love vanishes the same! Fffff
Balderrama On the edge of the creek when morning arrives, night comes out singing there at Balderrama, night comes out singing there at Balderrama. Inside there is a real thrill, the bass drum with the baguala, excited burning, with the sparkle of the guitar, excited burning, with the sparkle of the guitar. Lonely morning star, the sprout of dawn. Where will we end up if Balderrama fades away? Where will we end up if Balderrama fades away? If someone begins to sing a driver follows him, and in each glass of wine shivers the morning star, and in each glass of wine shivers the morning star. Sunrise zamba, lullaby for Balderrama, it cries at midnight, it sings at dawn,
it cries at midnight, it sings at dawn. Lonely morning star, the sprout of dawn. Where will we end up if Balderrama fades away? Where will we end up if Balderrama fades away? Where will we end up if Balderrama fades away?
Cucurrucucú, dove They say that every night he was wholly overtaken by tears, they say he wouldn’t eat, all he would do was drink, they swear that even the heavens shivered when they heard his wail, he suffered for her so that even in death, he never stopped calling for her. Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay!, he sang. Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay!, he howled. Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay!, he cried, from a deadly passion, he died. They say that a sad dove early in the morning goes to sing at the lonely little house with its little doors wide open. They swear that the dove is nothing else than his soul, hoping still for the return of the ill-fated woman. Cucurrucucú, dove. Cucurrucucú, don’t weep. What will these stones ever know, little dove, of love? Cucurrucucú, cucurrucucú, cucurrucucú… Don’t weep.
Returning to seventeen Returning to seventeen after having lived through a century is like deciphering signs without benefit of wisdom, to be suddenly once again as fragile as a second, to feel things as intensely as a child in front of God, that’s what it is like for me in this very fertile instant.
What feeling can bring about knowledge never could, nor the clearest course of action nor the grandest of all our thoughts. Everything is changed by the moment like an affable magician, it sweetly steers us away from bitterness and violence, only love with its science makes us become so innocent.
Eventually the window was flung open as if by magic, love entered with its blanket, to cover like a warm morning, to the sound of its lovely reveille it made the jasmine burst into bloom, and taking flight like an angel it hung earrings upon the heavens, and my age to seventeen was transformed by the cherubim.
It gets entangled, entangled, like ivy on a wall, and it sprouts, it sprouts, like tiny moss on a stone, like tiny moss on a stone, ay, yes, yes, yes.
It gets entangled, entangled, like ivy on a wall, and it sprouts, it sprouts, like tiny moss on a stone, like tiny moss on a stone, ay, yes, yes, yes.
It gets entangled, entangled, like ivy on a wall, and it sprouts, it sprouts, like tiny moss on a stone, like tiny moss on a stone, ay, yes, yes, yes.
The steps I take all go backwards while yours continue advancing, the Ark of the Covenant has penetrated my nest, with all of its colours it has passed through my veins, and even the hardest of chains with which destiny binds us, it is like a fine diamond that lights up my calm soul.
Love is a swirling whirlwind of primal purity, even the wildest of beasts will whisper and trill its sweetness, it stops pilgrims in their travels, it liberates those imprisoned, love, with the tenderest of touches, turns the old man into a child, and the evil, only through affection becomes pure and sincere.
It gets entangled, entangled, like ivy on a wall, and it sprouts, it sprouts, like tiny moss on a stone, like tiny moss on a stone, ay, yes, yes, yes.
It gets entangled, entangled, like ivy on a wall, and it sprouts, it sprouts, like tiny moss on a stone, like tiny moss on a stone, ay, yes, yes, yes.
Tattoo He came on a ship with a foreign name, I met him in the port one evening, when the white lighthouse over the sailboats dropped its silver kiss. He was handsome and as blond as beer, his chest was tattooed with a heart, and in his bitter voice there was the aching and tired sadness of the bandoneon. And over two glasses of brandy, on the stained counter, he started muttering his old love story: “Look at my arm tattooed with this woman’s name, it is the memory of a past that will never come back. She loved me and has forgotten me, however I did not forget her and I am forever marked with this woman’s name”. He left one afternoon with an unknown course in the same boat that brought him to me, but he left, having forgotten between his lips a lover’s kiss I asked for. Wandering I look for him in all ports, I ask all sailors for him and nobody tells me if he is dead or alive, and I continue in my doubt, looking for him faithfully. And I slowly bleed from counter to counter
before a glass of brandy where I drown my pain. “Look at your name tattooed in the caress of my skin. I’ve engraved it over low heat, and I’ll always have it on me. Perhaps you have already forgotten me, however, I did not forget you, and until I have found you I will look for you without rest”. “Listen to me, sailor, and tell me: what do you know about him? He was dashing and haughty, and he was blond like honey. Look at his foreigner’s name written here, on my skin. If you ever meet him, sailor, tell him that I am dying for him”.
Little Viennese Waltz In Vienna there are ten girls, a shoulder on which death is sobbing, and a forest of dried-out pigeons. There is a fragment of morning in the museum of frost. There is a salon with a thousand windows. Ay, ay, ay ay! Take this waltz, this waltz, this waltz with your mouth closed. Mm Mm Mm And this waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz about itself, about death and cognac, that wets its tail in the sea. I love you, I love you, I love you, with the armchair and the dead book, through the melancholy hallway, in the dark attic of lilies, on our bed of the moon and the dance dreamed by the tortoise. Ay, ay, ay, ay! Take this waltz, this waltz, this waltz of the broken waist. In Vienna there are four mirrors where your mouth and the echoes play. There is death for the piano that paints the boys blue. There are beggars on the rooftops. There are fresh garlands of weeping. Ay, ay, ay, ay!
Take this waltz, this waltz, this waltz that dies in my arms. Because I want you, I want you, my love, in the attic where the children play, dreaming the old lights of Hungary through the rumours of the warm afternoon, seeing lambs and lilies of snow, in the dark silence of your forehead. Ay, ay, ay, ay! Take this waltz, this waltz, this waltz called “I love you always”. And this waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz about itself, about death and cognac, that wets its tail in the sea. And this waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz about itself, about death and cognac, that wets its tail in the sea. In Vienna I’ll dance with you wearing a disguise with the head of a river. Look at the hyacinth shores I wear! I will leave my mouth between your legs, my soul in photographs and white lilies, and in the dark waves of your journey I want, my love, my love, to leave -violin and tomb- the ribbons of waltz. I want, my love, my love, to leave -violin and tomb- the ribbons of waltz. Ay, ay, ay, ay! Take this waltz, this waltz, this waltz.
Stone and path I am coming down the hill, path and stone, entangled in my soul, my love, is a sadness, entangled in my soul, my love, is a sadness. You say I don’t love you, don’t say that, perhaps you will never understand, my love, why I walk away, perhaps you will never understand, my love, why I walk away. It is my destiny, stone and path, I am the pilgrim, my love, of a beautiful and far away dream, I am the pilgrim, my love, of a beautiful and far away dream. Despite looking for happiness I live in sorrow, and when I should stay, my love, I walk away, and when I should stay, my love, I walk away. Sometimes I am like the river, I arrive singing and without anybody noticing, my love, I leave weeping,
and without anybody noticing, my love, I leave weeping. It is my destiny, stone and path, I am the pilgrim, my love, of a beautiful and far away dream, I am the pilgrim, my love, of a beautiful and far away dream.
Piedra y camino, a project growing from our common path In this selection of eleven songs our intention has been to condese the essence of who we are. During the past two years we have chosen them carefully and have crafted them to make them feel ours. These arrangements have been developed and nurtured from rehearsals, improvisations, mistakes and intuitions. They represent our own musical cosmos created by our voices, the guitar and small percussions. In our search for simplicity and intimacy, all the songs have been recorded as an acoustic session, like in one of our live concerts. We have also had the immense pleasure to be able to collaborate with the artist Paloma Ferrer Fornes throughout the entire creative process. Music and illustration have been growing simultaneously. The unique graphic illustrations are based in each of the musical tracks of the album and are conceived as a medium to showcase the technique of silk-screen printing. All prints have been created evoking the natural linear sketch style. They make sense both individually and as a series, and both inspire and draw inspiration from the music. In each illustration you will notice two different coloured inks, representing two different elements related to the poetical meaning of each song. The emerald green ink is common to all of the illustrations while the other one varies between red, yellow and blue.
Š Mark Kagan
Silento After a decade-long musical collaboration and friendship (that goes back to our days of singing together in the children’s choir), in 2016 we decided to make our duo official. This is how Silento was created, as a free space for our mutual musical creativity. From then onward, with one foot in Berlin and the other in Valencia, we have presented our music on many different stages. From uniting our songs with a visual artist in a live-painting to performing alongside flamenco dance, we have had the great fortune of collaborating with great artists from different fields.
Silento Ana Ferrer Fornes Guitar Celina JimĂŠnez Haro Voice Paloma Ferrer Fornes Illustrations & Design
www.silentoduo.com