Adam Green tiene 25 años y cuatro discos grabados, además del que editó con The Moldy Peaches, el grupo que encabezó junto a la cantante Kimya Dawson. Su música, con resonancias pop y folk, un cierto color años 60 y un toque en alguna media europeo, se resiste a la clasificación. Las letras, oscilando entre la poesía, el humor, el sarcasmo o el surrealismo, o uniendo todo ello, son también marca exclusiva de la casa.
Como consecuencia de tanta singularidad, Adam Green es mejor conocido y más apreciado en Europa, singularmente en Alemania (ha actuado también en España), que en su propio país, lo cual no es bueno para su posible estrellato americano, pero es bueno para la música.
Pienso que Adam Green, dada su trayectoria y juventud, puede proporcionarnos algunas satisfacciones a quienes buscamos oro entre la basura, talento entre el gregarismo, libertad entre la sumisión al mercado.
In a town, in a city, in an eyeball, on a rock
In a fence where a goat was alone by himself
There was a boy Who was there
A boy who built a snowman out of himself
I've been popping out of closets in robin hood suits
I've been spotted in pictures with Navy recruits
Look at your costume you know that it's true
Any one could pop in as you
Try to untie your lips but they were double knotted
I tried to break into you brain but all the entrances were rotted
If the moon had minute hands it would have meant a lot
But God would have made the moon as a clock.
Look, look, look at me doing this
Look, look, look at me doing that
Look, look, look at the way that i am
Bye bye bye to the crazy ones
Bye bye bye to the crazy ones
Bye bye bye to the crazy ones
Look, look, look at me doing this
Look, look, look at me doing that
Look, look, look at the way that i am
Look, look, look at me doing this
Look, look, look at me doing that
Look, look, look at the way that i am
But if everybody was the best
There would be so few of the rest
Oh the places where you've never been
Oh the world was just a baby then
A million ways you learn to cry
When the boy's little waves pass you by
Oh never to be there again
Oh the children where so old-fashioned then
Coffins decked out on the street
Who's the stranger with the purple feet?
Don't i remember him from somewhere
before his feet lost his hair?
But if everyone is coffin-bound
Then i'm so scared of being not around
I'm so scared to never make a sound
I'm so scared of being underground
Can you see me?
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