Canguros: leaps on the moon and a goodbye that won't come out

«Dicen que en la luna hay canguros.» ("They say there are kangaroos on the moon."). If I had to choose a favourite line from the whole catalogue, it would probably be close to this one.

Canguros (Kangaroos) is built as a collection of rumours. Each verse starts with a they say that, like those stories you were told as a child and didn't know whether to believe. They say the world has an edge. That there's a lighthouse in the bay. That if you follow a star you end up on a wooden boat. That mermaids exist, and mermen too, a word ("sirenos" in Spanish) that I find hilarious and that the song repeats almost like a game.

Among so many legends, a phrase slips in that has nothing fantastical about it: they say the most beautiful thing in the world is for someone to tell you I love you. There the song takes off the mask of the fairy tale.

The song of the sea

The chorus changes tone. The song of the sea comes back, the call of something that forces you to leave, and the real conflict appears: I have to go, but seeing you here I can't say goodbye. It's a stuck goodbye, the kind that drags on at the door because nobody wants to be the first to let go.

At the end the lyrics ask the other person to come back, recall a promise and leave an I'll wait for you that stays floating. All this while the kangaroos keep leaping between galaxies, as if fantasy were the only way to bear the distance.

I like that it's so sweet within a project full of spite. It has something of a sailor's lullaby, of a harbour copla, but with a surreal touch that makes it very much of this planet.

To listen to on a platform, at the boarding gate or on the last night before a move. For when someone stays and you don't.

I'd dedicate it to anyone who has someone waiting for them on the other side of the sea.

The full lyrics are further down. Listen on Spotify