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) o espião na versão final que veio a integrar o disco:




b) o espião numa versão rejeitada nas sessões de gravação:



i'm a spy in the house of love
i know the dream that you're dreamin' of
i know the word that you long to hear
i know your deepest secret fear
i'm a spy in the house of love
i know the dream that you're dreamin' of
i know the word that you long to hear
i know your deepest secret fear
i know everything
everything you do
everywhere you go
everyone you know

i'm a spy in the house of love
i know the dream that you're dreamin' of
i know the word that you long to hear
i know your deepest secret fear
i know your deepest secret fear
i know your deepest secret fear
i'm a spy 
i can see
what you do
and i know

volta e meia acontece: sem se saber porquê ouve-se uma canção 

vinda de um passado distante e depois anda-se o dia inteiro a trauteá-la

últimos dias do belogue :: à beira do fim

escrito por willie dixon especialmente para howlin' wolf, que o gravou em 1961, este é um dos grandes clássicos. mais tarde, em 1970, o próprio dixon o gravou – e naquela que para mim é a melhor versão de todas. mas pelo meio existe uma cover célebre, talvez a mais conhecida, da autoria dos doors e que foi incluída no seu disco de estreia. poucas vezes um grupo rock terá captado tão bem a essência dos azuis.

Wha, yeah! C'mon, yeah

Yeah, c'mon, yeah

Yeah, I'm a back door man

I'm a back door man

The men don't know

But the little girls understand

Hey, all you people that tryin' to sleep

I'm out to make it with my midnight dream, yeah

'Cause I'm a back door man

The men don't know

But the little girls understand

All right, yeah

You men eat your dinner

Eat your pork and beans

I eat more chicken

Than any man ever seen, yeah, yeah

I'm a back door man, wha

The men don't know

But the little girls understand

Well, I'm a back door man

I'm a back door man

Whoa, baby, I'm a back door man

The men don't know

But the little girls understand

uma velha canção de jim morrison + doors numa grande cover dos moonshiners, 
uma das poucas bandas portuguesas que sabe reinventar a essência dos azuis. 
(ou)vi-os ontem à noite. são bons. valem a pena. são coooooool.

Well, I've been down so Goddamn long

That it looks like up to me

Well, I've been down so very damn long

That it looks like up to me

Yeah, why don't one you people

C'mon and set me free

I said, warden, warden, warden

Won't you break your lock and key

I said, warden, warden, warden

Won't ya break your lock and key

Yeah, come along here, mister

C'mon and let the poor boy be

Baby, baby, baby

Won't you get down on your knees

Baby, baby, baby

Won't you get down on your knees

C'mon little darlin'

C'mon and give your love to me, oh yeah

Well, I've been down so Goddamn long

That it looks like up to me

Well, I've been down so very damn long

That it looks like up to me

Yeah, why don't one you people
C'mon, c'mon, c'mon and set me free

...e uma oração americana por james douglas morrison, que completaria - e completa - hoje setenta translações solares. parabéns jim, que contes muitos.



Do you know the warm progress under the stars?
Do you know we exist?
Have you forgotten the keys to the Kingdom?
Have you been borne yet & are you alive?
Let's reinvent the gods, all the myths of the ages
Celebrate symbols from deep elder forests
[Have you forgotten the lessons of the ancient war]
We need great golden copulations
The fathers are cackling in trees of the forest
Our mother is dead in the sea
Do you know we are being led to slaughters by placid admirals
& that fat slow generals are getting obscene on young blood
Do you know we are ruled by T.V.
The moon is a dry blood beast
Guerilla bands are rolling numbers in the next block of green vine
amassing for warfare on innocent herdsmen who are just dying
O great creator of being grant us one more hour to perform our art & perfect our lives
The moths & atheists are doubly divine & dying
We live, we die & death not ends it
Journey we more into the Nightmare
Cling to life our passion'd flower
Cling to cunts & cocks of despair
We got our final vision by clap
Columbus' groin got filled w/ green death
(I touched her thigh & death smiled)
We have assembled inside this ancient & insane theatre
To propagate our lust for life & flee the swarming wisdom of the streets
The barns are stormed
The windows kept & only one of all the rest
To dance & save us
W/ the divine mockery of words
Music inflames temperament
(When the true King's murderers are allowed to roam free a 1000 magicians arise in the land)
Where are the feasts
we were promised
Where is the wine
The New Wine
(dying on the vine)

[ nos anos vinte gravaram-se dois azuis, "black snake blues" de victoria spivey e também "black snake moan" de blind lemon jefferson, que se pensa estarem na génese deste "crawlin' king snake", registado primeiro por big joe williams, mas logo a seguir por john lee hooker, cuja versão é considerada a definitiva. tornou-se um clássico, e era igualmente um dos azuis favoritos de jim morrison e ray manzarek. ]

d e s c u b r a

a s

s e t e

d i f e r e n ç a s :

entre a crawlin' king snake de

a) john



e a de

b) jim and ray

Yes

You know I'm a crawlin' king snake baby and I rule my den
You know I'm a crawlin' king snake baby and I rules my den
Don't hang around my mate, wanna use her for myself

You know you caught me crawlin' baby when the
When the grass was very high
I'm just gonna keep on crawlin' baby until the day I die

Because I'm a crawlin' king snake baby and I rules my den
Don't hang around my mate, wanna use her for myself

You know you caught me crawlin' baby when the
When the grass was very high
I'm just gonna keep on crawlin' baby until the day I die

Because I'm a crawlin' king snake baby and I rule my den
Don't hang around my mate, wanna use her for myself

You know I'm gonna crawl up to your window, baby
Gonna crawl up to your door, you got anything I want, baby
Wanna crawl up on your floor

Because I'm a crawlin' king snake baby, yes, yes and I rule my den
Don't hang around my mate, wanna use her for myself

You know I'm gonna away now baby but
But I'll be back again, and when I come to town
Baby I'll be the same old snake again

Because I'm a crawlin' king snake baby and I rule my den
Don't hang around my mate, wanna use her for myself

Wanna use her for myself

a canção fantasma está aqui por causa de ray.
em bom rigor, esta não é uma música dos doors. foi escrita por ray e robbie muitos anos depois do grupo ter desaparecido, e foi pensada apenas como uma banda sonora para ilustrar poemas recitados por jim.
e por momentos parece que morrison voltou, que não chegou a partir. mas não... era só uma canção fantasma.
e agora volta a sê-lo de novo.



Awake.
Shake dreams from your hair
My pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day and choose the sign of your day
The day's divinity
First thing you see.

A vast radiant beach and cooled jeweled moon
Couples naked race down by it's quiet side
And we laugh like soft, mad children
Smug in the wooly cotton brains of infancy
The music and voices are all around us.

Choose they croon the Ancient Ones
The time has come again
Choose now, they croon
Beneath the moon
Beside an ancient lake

Enter again the sweet forest
Enter the hot dream
Come with us
Everything is broken up and dances.

Indians scattered, 
On dawn's highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young child's, 
Fragile eggshell mind

We have assembled inside, 
This ancient and insane theater
To propagate our lust for our life, 
And flee the swarming wisdom of the streets.

The barns have stormed 
The windows kept,
And only one of all the rest 
To dance and save us 
From the divine mockery of words,
Music inflames temperament. 

Ooh great creator of being 
Grant us one more hour, 
To perform our art 
And perfect our lives. 

We need great golden copulations,

When the true kings murderers 
Are allowed to roam free,
A thousand magicians arise in the land 
Where are the feast we are promised?

One more thing

Thank you oh lord
For the white blind light
Thank you oh lord
For the white blind light

A city rises from the sea
I had a splitting headache
From which the future's made

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

ontem estava a olhar para a inesperada chuva, e é sempre assim: recordei logo esta canção.
há quem diga foi vagamente inspirada por outra (“ghost rider”) e também quem refira a história do americano billy cook, um assassino que andava à boleia e numa ocasião matou uma família inteira. 
o que se sabe com toda a certeza é que os sons da trovoada são mesmo verdadeiros e que foi a última canção a ser gravada nas sessões para o album “l.a. woman”, o que faz dela o último registo fonográfico dos doors.



Riders on the storm 
Riders on the storm 
Into this house we're born 
Into this world we're thrown 
Like a dog without a bone 
And actor out on loan
Riders on the storm 

There's a killer on the road 
His brain is squirmin' like a toad 
Take a long holiday 
Let your children play 
If ya give this man a ride 
Sweet family will die 
Killer on the road, yeah 

Girl ya gotta love your man 
Girl ya gotta love your man 
Take him by the hand 
Make him understand 
The world on you depends 
Our life will never end 
Gotta love your man, yeah

Riders on the storm 
Riders on the storm 
Into this house we're born 
Into this world we're thrown 
Like a dog without a bone 
And actor out on loan
Riders on the storm 

Riders on the storm 
Riders on the storm 

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






este é um dos grandes azuis dos portas, que conheci primeiro no velho "absolutely live" mas que tenho redescoberto noutras gravações - e a que regresso sempre com um sorriso:

para que queria o menino james douglas uma mulher com três metros de altura?

Give me a witness, darling.
I need a witness, babe.
I got the poontang blues. I got the poontang blues.
From the top of my head to the bottom of my cowboy shoes.
Build me a woman,
Make her ten feet tall.
You got to build me a woman,
Make her ten feet tall.
Don't make her ugly,
Don't make her small.
Build me a woman,
Make her ten feet tall.
You got to build me a woman,
Make her ten feet tall.
Don't make her ugly,
Don't make her small.
Build me someone I can ball
All night long.

este é um dos grandes azuis dos doors, uma espécie de inquilino permanente numa suite do “morrison hotel”.

[pudéssemos todos ser sempre espiões na casa do amor…]



I'm a spy in the house of love
I know the dream, that you're dreamin' of
I know the word that you long to hear
I know your deepest, secret fear
I'm a spy in the house of love
I know the dream, that you're dreamin' of
I know the word that you long to hear
I know your deepest, secret fear
I know everything
Everything you do
Everywhere you go
Everyone you know

I'm a spy in the house of love
I know the dream, that you're dreamin' of
I know the word that you long to hear
I know your deepest, secret fear
I know your deepest, secret fear
I know your deepest, secret fear
I'm a spy, I can see
What you do
And I know

consta que jim morrison gravou a parte vocal fechado na casa-de-banho do estúdio, e daí o timbre da sua voz e aquele eco especial.
adoro blues (a que desde sempre chamei azuis) e este tem tanto de metálico como de nostálgico, uma combinação mais que suficiente para em mim ser um azul eterno...
e depois é daqueles cuja letra sei de cor e que estou sempre a tocar e cantar.






the cars hiss by my window
like the waves down on the beach
the cars hiss by my window
like the waves down on the beach
i got this girl beside me
but she’s out of reach

headlight through my window
shinin on the wall
headlight through my window
shinin on the wall
can't hear my baby
though i called and called

windows started tremblin
with a sonic boom
windows started tremblin
with a sonic boom, boom
a cold girl’ll kill you
in a darkened room