| Balavoine, Dubois, Dufresne, Gall, Thibeault / Starmania v.o. | 72:24 | |||||||
| 01 | Ouverture | You ever had a day like I had today, when things are stacked up bad? You look around and every face you see seems guaranteed to send you mad. And you peer into those hallowed institutions. And they bark at you from every side. But the bite goes wide. I see them running with their tails hanging low like dogs in the midwinter. The prophets and the wise men and the hard politicos are all dogs in the midwinter. Let the breath from the mountain still the pain, clear water from the fountain run sweeter than the rain. Dogs in the midwinter The boss man and the tax man and the moneylenders growl... like dogs in the midwinter. The weaker of the herd can feel their eyes and hear them howl like dogs in the midwinter. Though the fox and the rabbit are at peace, cold doggies in the manger turn last suppers into feasts. Dogs in the midwinter. You ever had a day like i had today --- dogs in the midwinter. You look around and every face you see --- dogs in the midwinter. And you peer into those hallowed institutions. And they bark at you from every side. But the bite goes wide. We're all running on a tightrope, wearing slippers in the snow... we're all dogs in the midwinter. The ice is ever thinner. Be careful how you go like dogs in the midwinter. And it's hard to find true equilibrium when you're looking at each other down the muzzle of a gun. Dogs in the midwinter. | 02:51 | |||||
| 02 | Quand on arrive en ville | I think she was a middle-distance runner... (the translation wasn't clear). Could be a budding stately hero. International competition in a year. She was a good enough reason for a party... (well, you couldn't keep up on a hard track mile) while she ran a perfect circle. And she wore a perfect smile in Budapest... hot night in Budapest. We had to cozzy up in the old gymnasium... dusting off the mandolins and checking on the gear. She was helping out at the back-stage... stopping hearts and chilling beer. Yes, and her legs went on for ever. Like staring up at infinity through a wisp of cotton panty along a skin of satin sea. Hot night in Budapest. You could cut the heat, peel it back with the wrong side of a knife. Feel it blowing from the sidefills. Feel like you were playing for your life (if not the money). Hot night in Budapest. She bent down to fill the ice box and stuffed some more warm white wine in like some weird unearthly vision wearing only T-shirt, pants and skin. You know, it rippled, just a hint of muscle. But the boys and me were heading west so we left her to the late crew and a hot night in Budapest. It was a hot night in Budapest. She didn't speak much English language... (she didn't speak much anyway). She wouldn't make love, but she could make good sandwich and she poured sweet wine before we played. Hey, Budapest, cha, cha, cha. Let's watch her now. I thought I saw her at the late night restaurant. She would have sent blue shivers down the wall. But she didn't grace our table. In fact, she wasn't there at all. Yes, and her legs went on forever. Like staring up at infinity. Her heart was spinning to the west-lands and she didn't care to be that night in Budapest. Hot night in Budapest. | 03:38 | |||||
| 03 | Complainte de la serveuse automate | The poacher and his daughter throw soft shadows on the water in the night. A thin moon slips behind them as they pull the net with no betraying light. And later on the coast road, I meet them and the old man winks a smile. And who am I to fast deny the right to take a fish once in a while? I walk with them, they wish me luck when I ship out on the Sunday from the kyle. And from the church I hear them singing as the ship moves sadly from the pier. Oh, poacher's daughter, Sunday best, two hundred brave souls share the farewell tear. There's a house on the hillside, where the drifting sands are born. Lay down and let the slow tide wash me back to the land where I came from. Where the mountain men are kings and the sound of the piper counts for everything. Did my tour, did my duty. I did all they asked of me. Died in the trenches and at Alamein ...died in the Falklands on T.V. Going back to the mountain kings where the sound of the piper counts for everything. Long generations from the Isles sent to tread the foreign miles where the spiral ages meet. Felt naked dust beneath their feet. Future sun called winds to blow and the past and present hard-eyed crow flew hunting high and circling low over blackened plains of Eden. There's a child and a woman praying for an end to the mystery. Hoping for a word in a letter fair wind-blown from across the sea to where the mountain men are kings and the sound of the piper counts for eveything. There's a house on the hillside, where the drifting sands are born. Lay down and let the slow tide wash me back to the land where I came from. Where the mountain men are kings and the sound of the piper counts for everything. Where the real mountain men are kings and the sound of the piper counts for everything. Feel the naked dust beneath my toes while the future sun calls winds to blow and the past and present black-eyed crow flies hunting high and circling low between dream mountains of our Eden. | 04:45 | |||||
| 04 | Le blues du businessman | As I wake up in a room somewhere... dawn light not yet showing There's just a thin horizon between me and her... the edge of a half-dream glowing. Well, you know, I felt her in my dream last night Strange how the sheets are warm beside me. Now, how do I catch the waking edge? As it slips to the far and wide of me. Didn't I try to hold it down? Freeze on the picture, hang sharp on the sound. Catch the waking edge another time. Familiar shadows in my hotel room are still here for the taking. They seem to linger on as the street lights fade and the empty dawn is breaking. Private movie showing in my head... which button do I press for re-run? And how do I catch the waking edge? The edge of a dream about someone. Well, you know, I felt her in my dream last night... now the sheets are cold beside me. | 04:22 | |||||
| 05 | Monopolis | Over high plains, through the snow... roll those tracks out, don't you know I'm raising steam. Thin vein creeping; hot blood flow.. spill a little where the new towns grow. I got my whole life hanging in a sack, heading out into that wide world wide. You got your locomotive sitting on your track and I don't care which way I ride. I may not be coming back. Left a lady with a heart all in pieces come apart raising steam. That engine up front must have a heart big enough for the both of us. Riding shotgun on the sunset, stare it in the eye, rocking on my heels out to the west. Funny how the whole world, historically, feels the urge to chase the sun to rest. We may not be coming back. Let me be your engineer... have you smiling ear to ear raising steam. And will you tell me how it feels when you're up and rolling on your driving wheels? I got my whole life hanging in a sack, heading out into that wide world wide. I'll be your locomotive blowing off its stack and I don't care which way I ride. I may not be coming back. Raising steam. | 04:24 | |||||
| 06 | Un garçon pas comme les autres | Vicent Torrent/Popular | 03:04 | |||||
| 07 | La chanson de Ziggy | produced by Reinhold Heil | 04:24 | |||||
| 08 | Travesti | (C. Montez) Ed. Jupiter Ralph Siegel KG CHRIS MONTEZ | 03:56 | |||||
| 09 | Banlieue nord / Balavoine | (A. Resnick / K. Young) MV Intersong GmbH THE DRIFTERS | 03:24 | |||||
| 10 | Petite musique terrienne | (Trad./Bearb. H. Hildebrandt-Winhauer / L. Humphires) Manuskript LEE« | 01:22 | |||||
| 11 | Ce soir on danse au Naziland | (S. Silverstein) Essex Musikvertrieb GmbH LEE HAZLEWOOD | 04:32 | |||||
| 12 | Les adieux d'un sex symbol | (L. Hazlewood) Global MV NINA MARTIN | 05:46 | |||||
| 13 | Ego trip | (B. Freeman) Robert Mellin MV GmbH BOBBY FREEMAN | 02:27 | |||||
| 14 | Les uns contre les autres | (T. Roe / F. Weller) Musik-Edition Discoton GmbH TOMMY ROE | 03:03 | |||||
| 15 | Quanbd on n'a plus rien à perdre | (D. Pomus / M. Shuman) MV Intersong GmbH THE TROGGS | 03:47 | |||||
| 16 | Le monde est stone | (J. Barry / B. Raleigh) Ed. Jupiter Ralph Siegel KG RAY PETERSON | 05:33 | |||||
| 17 | Petite musique terrienne / Balavoine | (G. F. Morton) Robert Mellin MV GmbH THE SHANGRI-LAS | 00:44 | |||||
| 18 | SOS d'un terrien en détresse | (T. Peacock) MV Intersong GmbH HERMAN'S HERMITS | 03:06 | |||||
| 19 | LE rêve de Stella Spotlight | (J. M. Williams / B. Chatman) Rolf Budde GmbH & Co. KG RAY PETERSON | 03:18 | |||||
| 20 | Besoin d'amour | Recorded live at Pumpehuset -91 | 03:58 | |||||
| Starmania L'opéra Rock de Michel Berger et Luc Plamondon (CD 2) | 59:48 | |||||||
| 01 | Quand on arrive en ville | 03:41 | ||||||
| 02 | Complainte de la serveuse automate | 04:49 | ||||||
| 03 | Le Blues du businessman | 04:23 | ||||||
| 04 | Monopolis | 04:27 | ||||||
| 05 | Un garcon pas comme les autres | 03:07 | ||||||
| 06 | La chanson de Ziggy | 04:28 | ||||||
| 07 | Travesti | 03:58 | ||||||
| 08 | Banlieue nord | 03:27 | ||||||
| 09 | Ce soir on danse a Naziland | 04:36 | ||||||
| 10 | Ego Trip | 02:30 | ||||||
| 11 | Les uns contre les autres | 03:04 | ||||||
| 12 | Quand on n'a plus rien a predre | 03:50 | ||||||
| 13 | Le monde est stone | 05:35 | ||||||
| 14 | Petite musique terrienne - SOS d'un terrien en detresse | 03:58 | ||||||
| 15 | Besoin d'amour | 03:55 | ||||||
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