It starts innocently enough, with a conversational and entirely reasonable response to the unpleasantness of certain aspects of Fangio’s chosen vocation; from there the tone turns wistful, as our narrator recalls his hometown and the distance, both physical and emotional, between his life now and the occasions of his greatest glory. Then comes a third verse, though, and suddenly shit gets real. For the first time, Fangio comes face to face with his demons and confesses his shame for his silence during the Guerra Sucia, for the artful dodge of one “not interested in politics,” for his cowardice and betrayal of the very people who had elevated him to the status of national hero. For the first time, the true nature of Fangio’s mission is made clear: redemption for himself, and revenge for his fellow countrymen—revenge against not a particular regime or nation, not just the CIA or the cartels, not just the IMF or the WTO, but against every agent of oppression that has served to exploit and terrorize the people of Latin America for the last five hundred years.
lyrics
I don’t like to kill
it gives me little satisfaction
to do what’s now required
of the responsible man of action
the psychopaths and sadists
they bring such joy to the task
but me, yeah, not so much
why do you ask?
it’s been too many years
since I dropped in on Balcarce
the town where I was born
where I kept my Maserati
it’s a sweet 250F
I last drove at Spa, 1954
it was like an extension of my body then
not anymore
regrets, I’ve had a few
well okay, I’ve had a lot
I was courageous, a hero on the track
and off it I was not
I watched my countrymen
sent off to their deaths
and I never said a word
instead I used my celebrity and my fame
and I hid behind my name as a shield
a fucking shield
when it should have been a sword
Terry Venemous is releasing new music every 3 weeks this year. His latest EP is sumptuous art pop with a wry sense of detachment.
Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 27, 2024