mais uma que este ano apaga cinquenta velas...

[e.f.e.m.é.r.i.d.e]

festeja hoje 71 risonhos invernos o imortal david robert jones. começou a carreira como cantor em bandas quase anónimas, dedicadas a tocar covers de blues, como os king-bees, os manish boys e os lower third. mais tarde, porque o seu nome (davie jones) se confundia com o dave jones dos monkees, inventou-se numa nova persona, inspirada pela história do americano jim bowie e da faca que popularizou.
o resto - a golpes de lâmina - é história. aqui fica um dos seus primeiros singles. king-kongratulations ziggy!

look up here, i'm in heaven
i've got scars that can't be seen

ainda o inesquecível concerto de ontem: nunca, nunca mesmo, apostaria que fosse possível ouvir uma canção de bowie… 
(mas se o fizesse tinha ganho porque os lambchop, falsettos afinados e tudo, terminaram com uma grande cover disto):

They pulled in just behind the bridge

He lays her down, he frowns

"Gee my life's a funny thing, am I still too young?"

He kissed her then and there

She took his ring, took his babies

It took him minutes, took her nowhere

Heaven knows, she'd have taken anything, but

[chorus]: All night

She wants the young American

Young American, young American, she wants the young American

All right She wants the young American

Scanning life through the picture window

She finds the slinky vagabond

He coughs as he passes her Ford Mustang, but

Heaven forbid, she'll take anything

But the freak, and his type, all for nothing

He misses a step and cuts his hand, but

Showing nothing, he swoops like a song

She cries "Where have all Papa's heroes gone?"

[chorus]

All the way from Washington

Her bread-winner begs off the bathroom floor

We live for just these twenty years

Do we have to die for the fifty more?"

[chorus]

Do you remember, your President Nixon?

Do you remember, the bills you have to pay?

Or even yesterday?

Have been the un-American?

Just you and your idol sing falsetto

'bout leather, leather everywhere, and

Not a myth left from the ghetto

Well, well, well, would you carry a razor

In case, just in case of depression?

Sit on your hands on a bus of survivors

Blushing at all the afro-Sheeners

Ain't that close to love?

Well, ain't that poster love?

Well, it ain't that Barbie doll

Her hearts have been broken just like you

[chorus]

You ain't a pimp and you ain't a hustler

A pimp's got a Cadi and a lady got a Chrysler

Black's got respect, and white's got his soul train

Mama's got cramps, and look at your hands ache

(I heard the news today, oh boy)

I got a suite and you got defeat

Ain't there a man who can say no more?

And, ain't there a woman I can sock on the jaw?

And, ain't there a child I can hold without judging?

Ain't there a pen that will write before they die?

Ain't you proud that you've still got faces?

Ain't there one damn song that can make me break down and cry?

em 1971 bowie abandona definitivamente o universo folk-psicadélico e volta-se para o emergente glam-rock. incluída no album “hunky dory”, esta grande canção é todo um documento. as mais recentes sondas que enviámos a marte ainda não responderam à pergunta aqui feita mas, caramba, quem consegue escolher uma sombra de olhos a combinar com a cor do fato sabe que há coisas mais importantes que o cosmos, não é?

It's a god-awful small affair

To the girl with the mousy hair

But her mummy is yelling "No"

And her daddy has told her to go

But her friend is nowhere to be seen

Now she walks through her sunken dream

To the seat with the clearest view

And she's hooked to the silver screen

But the film is a saddening bore

For she's lived it ten times or more

She could spit in the eyes of fools

As they ask her to focus on

Sailors fighting in the dance hall

Oh man!

Look at those cavemen go

It's the freakiest show

Take a look at the Lawman

Beating up the wrong guy

Oh man! Wonder if he'll ever know

He's in the best selling show

Is there life on Mars?

It's on Amerika's tortured brow

That Mickey Mouse has grown up a cow

Now the workers have struck for fame

'Cause Lennon's on sale again

See the mice in their million hordes

From Ibiza to the Norfolk Broads

Rule Britannia is out of bounds

To my mother, my dog, and clowns

But the film is a saddening bore

'Cause I wrote it ten times or more

It's about to be writ again

As I ask you to focus on

Sailors fighting in the dance hall

Oh man!

Look at those cavemen go

It's the freakiest show

Take a look at the Lawman

Beating up the wrong guy

Oh man! Wonder if he'll ever know

He's in the best selling show

Is there life on Mars?

david robert jones festeja hoje sessenta e sete translações solares.

por vezes, o sol não brilhou mais do que ele.

david bowie

terry o'neill

david bowie

(no célebre fato de kansai yamamoto para a aladdin sane tour de '73)

por masayoshi sukita

um ano após ter passado a usufruir de descontos nos transportes públicos, 
o senhor david robert jones ainda permanece um principiante absoluto...



I've nothing much to offer
There's nothing much to take
Im an absolute beginner
And Im absolutely sane
As long as were together
The rest can go to hell
I absolutely love you
But were absolute beginners
With eyes completely open
But nervous all the same

If our love song
Could fly over mountains
Could laugh at the ocean
Just like the films
There's no reason
To feel all the hard times
To lay down the hard lines
It's absolutely true

Nothing much could happen
Nothing we can't shake
Oh were absolute beginners
With nothing much at stake
As long as you're still smiling
There's nothing more I need
I absolutely love you
But were absolute beginners
But if my love is your love
Were certain to succeed

If our love song
Could fly over mountains
Sail over heartaches
Just like the films
There's no reason
To feel all the hard times
To lay down the hard lines
It's absolutely true

d e s c u b r a
a s
s e t e
d i f e r e n ç a s :








sempre achei fascinante que esta ária da "ascensão e queda da cidade de mahagonny", 
de kurt weill, se tivesse tornado uma canção-fetiche no universo do rock...



A:


B:


Well, show me the way 
To the next whiskey bar 
Oh, don't ask why 
Oh, don't ask why 

Show me the way 
To the next whiskey bar 
Oh, don't ask why 
Oh, don't ask why 

For if we don't find 
The next whiskey bar 
I tell you we must die 
I tell you we must die 
I tell you, i tell you i tell you we must die 

Oh, moon of alabama 
We now must say goodbye 
We've lost our good old mama 
And must have whiskey, oh, you know why 

Oh, moon of alabama 
We now must say goodbye 
We've lost our good old mama 
And must have whiskey, oh, you know why 

Well, show me the way 
To the next little girl 
Oh, don't ask why 
Oh, don't ask why 

Show me the way 
To the next little girl 
Oh, don't ask why oh, don't ask why 

For if we don't find 
The next little girl 
I tell you we must die 
I tell you we must die 
I tell you, i tell you i tell you we must die 

Oh, moon of alabama 
We now must say goodbye 
We've lost our good old mama 
And must have whiskey, oh, you know why

d e s c u b r a
a s
s e t e
d i f e r e n ç a s :









a) original dos pink floyd, ainda "psicadélicos", com a voz de roger keith barrett:







b) versão tardia de gilmour & wright, com a voz de um tal david robert jones: