um nocturno que me diz tanto...

 

...e se foi o velho tom a fechar o ano velho,

parece-me bem que seja ele a abrir o novo:

 

entre um ano para esquecer e outro para ansiar

intrometeu-se, sem convite, o jovem thomas...

when the hawk's in the kitchen and the sirens in bloom

and the losers have been swept from the gin mills

hello sucker, merry christmas and a happy new year

thirty fourth street good tidings to you

and will you meet me in paradise alley tonight

we'll leave town in a bottle of whiskey

and come on, you old scarecrow, and be a wheel, not a lamppost

just put a saddle on a wishbone, and you're halfway there...

lembro-me como se tivesse sido ontem: havia um novo coppola em exibição

e lá fui, ao saudoso apolo 70, ver esse magnífico "one from the heart". 
a banda sonora é hoje um clássico - mas continuo a achar incrível que esta canção,

gravada para o filme, não tenha sido incluída no lp com a banda sonora original.

i don't care if she never comes back 
sing candy apple red 
i'll never fall in love again and that's for sure 
singing candy apple red 
i'm gonna drink just like a son of a bitch 
sing candy apple red 
and drive my car into a drainage ditch 
singing candy apple red.

[e.f.e.m.é.r.i.d.e]

festeja hoje sessenta e nove risonhas translações solares

o senhor waits. que contes muitas, thomas alan, de

preferência sempre no lado errado da estrada.

o jovem thomas allan, a propósito de tudo e de nada... (e mais alguma coisa):

the laughing heart

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.

Charles Bukowski

[para a mariana - and i agree with mr waits, that's a beauty]

um dia não são dias, e nem todos os dias são iguais. 
mas é sempre às segundas-feiras que recebo um convite para os azuis 
(infelizmente nem sempre com esta banda sonora).

esta é uma das boas covers do clássico de tom waits. até a minha scarlett johansson o gravou, embora a sua interpretação esteja muito aquém da de miss cole, cuja voz se adapta muito bem à atmosfera da canção. e há que destacar o ritmo mais lento e a inclusão de uma extraordinária harmónica como solista (tocada por howard levy).

I've come 500 miles

Just to see your halo

Come from St. Petersburg

Scarlett and me

When I open my eyes

I was blind as can be

And to give a man luck

He must fall in the sea

And she wants you to steal and get caught

For she loves you for all that you are not

When you're falling down

Falling down

You forget all the roses

Don't come around on Sunday

She's not gonna choose you

For standing so tall

Go on take a swig of that poison

And like it

And now don't ask for silverware

Don't ask for nothing

Go on and put your ear to the ground

You know you'll be hearing that sound

Falling down

You're falling down falling down

When you're falling down

Falling down falling down

Go on down see that wrecking ball

Come swing in on her now

Everyone knew that hotel was a goner

They broke all the windows

And took all the door knobs

And they hauled it away

In a couple of days

Now someone yelled timber

Take off your hat

We all look smaller

Down here on the ground

When you're falling down

Falling down falling down

Someone's falling down

Falling down falling down

[ in memoriam ]

On our anniversary

There'll be someone else where you used to be


The world don't care and yet it clings to me


The moon is gold and silvery

Who knows where the sidewalk ends

Well the road will turn and the road will bend


They always say he marks the sparrow's fall


How can anyone believe it all



Well the band has stopped playing but we keep dancing

The world keeps turning the world keeps turning


On his hand he wore the ring of another


The world keeps turning, the world keeps turning



We broke the bank and we tore up the place


We disappeared oh without a trace


Now the sun it falls into the sea

I know I'm the only one for me



I was so green and the dress you wore was yellow


The world keeps turning, the world keeps turning


The sun is down and the moon is in the meadow


The world keeps turning, the world keeps turning

Put a hat on your head


Will you paint the whole damn town red with me?

Well the band has stopped playing but we keep dancing

The world keeps turning, the world keeps turning


On his hand he wore the ring of another


The world keeps turning, the world keeps turning

[febre de sábado à noite]

I don’t want to feel all cooped up

I feel like I’m on a chain

I got my ride all souped up

We’re never coming back again

Time it don’t mean nothing

Money means even less

Don’t bring nothin baby

You’re better then all the rest

I wanna go get lost

When you wear that real tight sweater

You know I can’t resist

It’s been that way forever baby

Ever since we kissed

Roll down all the windows

Turn up Wolfman Jack

Please, please love me tender

Ain’t nothin wrong with that

Let’s go get lost

I wanna go get lost

Whatever that they told you about me

Well all of it’s true

You’re never gonna be with out me baby

I’m never gonna be without you

Top it off, fill it with high test

Think about it what cha gonna tell your boss?

And get lost

I just wanna get lost

All night long…

hoje dei-me conta, por duas vezes, de estar a trautear esta velha canção de tom waits. porquê? não sei.

 

Hush a wild violet

Hush a band of gold

Hush you're in a story

I heard somebody told

Tear the promise from my heart

Tear my heart today

You have found another

Baby I must go away

Hang down your head for sorrow

Hang down your head for me

Hang down your head tomorrow

Hang down your head Marie

Hush my love the rain now

Hush my love was so true

Hush my love a train now
But it takes me away from you

fascinante, esta junção de uma velha canção de bernstein (de west side story), numa velha cover de tom waits, 
com clips de velhos filmes de woody allen. pois... sou um rapaz antigo.

there's a place for us


somewhere a place for us


peace and quiet and open air


wait for us somewhere


there's a time for us


someday a time for us


time together with time to spare


time to learn, time to care


someday, somewhere


we'll find a new way of living


we'll find a way of forgiving

somewhere there's a place for us


a time and a place for us


hold my hand and we're half way there


hold my hand and i'll take you there


somehow, someday, somewhere

sábado: gosto de chegar no rápido da noite, assobiar ao passar pelo cemitério, viajar clandestino e sem destino, ir dormir ao pé do caminho-de-ferro, e arrancar do céu um arco-íris e usá-lo como gravata. 
e se nunca disse a verdade como posso estar a mentir?

I come in on a night train with an arm full of boxcars

on the wings of a magpie cross a hooligan night

and I busted up a chifferobe way out by the kokomo

cooked up a mess of mulligan and got into a fight

whistlin' past the graveyard steppin' on a crack

me and mother hubbard papa one-eyed Jack

you probably seen me sleepin out by the railroad tracks

go on and ask the prince of darkness

what about all that smoke come from the stack

sometimes I kill myself a jackal suck out all the blood

steal myself a station wagon drivin' through the mud

I'm gonna be whistlin' past the graveyard steppin' on a crack

me and mother hubbard papa one-eyed Jack

I know you seen my headlights and the honkin of my horn

I'm callin out my bloodhounds chase the devil through the corn

last night I chugged the Mississippi now that suckers dry as a bone

I was born in a taxi cab I'm never goin home

Whistlin' past the graveyard steppin' on a crack

me and mother hubbard Papa one-eyed Jack

my eyes have seen the glory of the draining of the ditch

I only come to Baton Rouge I gotta find myself a witch

I'm gonna snatch me up a couple of em every time it rains

you'll see a locomotive probably thinkin its a train

whistlin' past the graveyard steppin' on a crack

me and mother hubbard Papa one-eyed Jack

what you think is the sunshine is just a twinkle in my eye

that ring around my fingers called the fourth of July

when I get a little bit lonesome and a tear falls from my cheek

there's gonna be an ocean in the middle of the week

whistlin' past the graveyard steppin' on a crack

me and mother hubbard Papa one-eyed Jack

I come into town on a night train with an arm full of boxcars

on the wings of a magpie cross a hooligan night

I'm gonna tear me off a rainbow and wear it for a tie

I never told the truth so I can never tell a lie

whistlin' past the graveyard steppin' on a crack
me and mother hubbard Papa one-eyed Jack

tom waits

michael putland

e é isto: 
muitas vezes, naquela demanda insana em busca do nocturno mais-que-perfeito, 
regresso a velhas canções de thomas alan waits. 



The Ice Man's mule is parked

Outside the bar

Where a man with missing fingers

Plays a strange guitar

And the German dwarf

Dances with the butcher's son

And a little rain never hurt no-one

And a little rain never hurt no-one

They're dancing on the roof

And the ceiling's coming down

I sleep with my shovel and my leather gloves

A little trouble makes it worth the going

And a little rain never hurt no-one

The world is round

And so I'll go around

You must risk something that matters

My hands are strong

I'll take any man here

If it's worth the going

It's worth the ride

She was 15 years old

And never seen the ocean

She climbed into a van

With a vagabond

And the last thing she said

Was "I love you mom"

And a little rain

Never hurt no-one

And a little rain

Never hurt no-one

um dos mistérios das canções de tom waits sempre foi (e provavelmente será) para mim este: 
o serem as canções musicalmente mais simples as que sinto mais conseguidas e, de certo modo, 
as que mais me tocam e sinto como minhas

there's a crooked street in houston town

it's a well worn path i've followed down

now there's ruin in my name

i wish i never got off the train

i wished i'd listened to the words you said

don't go down to fannin street

you'll be lost and never found

you can never turn around

don't go down to fannin street

once i held you in my arms i was sure

till i took that silent step through the gilded door

but the desire to have much more all the glitter and the roar

now i know that this is where the sidewalk ends

don't go down to fannin street

you'll be lost and never found

you can never turn around

don't go down to fannin street

when i was young i thought only of getting out

i said good-bye to my street

good-bye to my house

give a man gin give a man cards

give an inch he takes a yard

and i rue the day that i stepped off this train

don't go down to fannin street

you'll be lost and never found

you can never turn around

don't go down to fannin street

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

revi há dias o excelente “bande à part” de jean-luc godard, um filme que se recusa a envelhecer. 
e dei então conta do não desvendado potencial daquele trio a dançar no café. 
porque, em bom rigor, odile, franz e arthur dançam tudo:

a) michel legrand

b) tom waits

Cuttin' through the cane break

Rattling the sill

Thunder that the rain makes

When the shadow tops the hill

Big light on the back street

Hill to Evermore. Packin' down the ladder

With the hammer to the floor

Here comes the Big Black Mariah

Here comes the Big Black Ford

Well he's all boxed up

On a red bell dame

Hunted Black Johnny with

A blind man's cane

A yellow bullet with a

Rag out in the wind

An old blind tiger

Get an old bell Jim

Here comes the Big Black Mariah

Here comes the Big Black Ford

Sent to the skies on a

Benny Jag Blue

Off to bed without his supper

Like the Linda brides do

Now he's got to do the story

With the old widow Jones...

He's got a wooden coat this boy

Is never coming home

Here comes the Big Black Mariah

Here comes the Big Black Ford

muitos muitos parabéns thomas alan. 
se vieres (ainda não perdi a esperança) a portugal - e a partir de hoje - já tens desconto nos transportes públicos, sabias?

tom waits

anton corbijn

o que tem mais piada nesta velha canção de tom waits é o modo como ele retrata a dificuldade em resistir às tentações e esse (sempre subjacente) dilema entre o bem e o mal. confessa: também já te perguntaste por que razão os maus têm tanta força, por que é que os anjos vão dormir quando o diabo deixa acesa a luz da entrada.

I spent all my money in a Mexican whorehouse


Across the street from a catholic church


And then I wiped off my revolver


And I buttoned up my burgundy shirt

I shot the morning in the back
with my red wings on


I told the sun he'd better go back down


And if I can find a book of matches


I'm goin' to burn this hotel down

You got to tell me brave captain


Why are the wicked so strong?


How do the Angels get to sleep


When the Devil leaves the porch light on?

Well, I dropped thirty grand on the Nugget slots


I had to sell my ass on Fremont Street


And the drummer said there's sanctuary


Over at the Baghdad room

And now it's one for the money


Two for the show


Three to get ready, and go man go


I said, "Tell me Mr. Siegal, 
how do I get out of here?"

Well, Willard's knocked out on a bottle of heat


Drivin' dangerous curves across the dirty sheets


He said, "Man you ought to see her
 when her parents are gone


Man you ought to hear her when the siren's on"

I said, tell me brave captain


Why are the wicked so strong?


How do the Angels get to sleep


When the Devil leaves the porch light on?

Don't you know that ain't no broken bottle


That I picked up in my headlights
 on the other side of the Nevada line


Where they live hard die young


And have a good lookin' corpse every time

Well, you know the pit-boss 
said I should keep movin'


This is where you go when you die


And so I shot a black beauty


And I kissed her right between the eyes

Well, Willard's knocked out on a bottle of heat


Drivin' dangerous curves across the dirty sheets


He said, "When the bitches wound up 
when her parents are gone


Man you ought to hear her when the siren's on"

I said, tell me brave captain:

Why are the wicked so strong?


How do the Angels get to sleep


When the Devil leaves the porch light on?