bloc nascut el 09/12/13 amb info de les 10 edicions d´infructuosa espera a Tom Waits (Waiting For Waits: 2001-2010).I amb info del nou cicle musical WOMEN don´t WAIT
Avui estrena d´una nova secció al bloc d´Orphans, on seran protagonistes grans discs que, o bé per mor del pas del temps o bé perque directament la van cagar al moment de publicar-los, tenen uns dissenys de portada absolutament infumables.
NOTA: vos deman que practiqueu el possiblement divertit exercisi de mirar entre els discs que teniu a ca vostra, per veure quin d´ells (entenc que si els teniu és perque la música vos agrada) té la portada més esperpèntica... Ho podeu compartir escrivint a orphans.of.waits@gmail.com
El 30 de març de l´any 1988 (avui fa 26 anys) es publicava:
En realitat a mi me sembla una portada collonuda, però no crec que el minúscul sector de lectores d´Orphans opini el mateix...
En qualsevol cas, quin gran temasso el seu duet amb Rosanne Cash (filla d´en Juanito el de Negro):
WARNING FOR PARENTS (!) el vídeo que veureu a continuació té moments picantons moooolt creíbles (Rosanne and Rodney eren parella aquell temps). Tampoc té cap desperdici l´estètica capilar dels personatges, en especial la del "cowboy urbà" encarnat per Crowell...
Fancy meeting you here tonight
It's such a small world
New York ain't my town
I don't come around but once in a while
This is such a surprise to see you
Girl, your looking so good
It's been a long time since you've crossed my mind
It's such a small world
Just one night on the town
I came looking around for something to do
Just a change of my plans on leaving
And I stay around and I run into you
Which just goes to prove it's such a small world
It's such a small world, I've lived alone for awhile
It's such a small world
It feels like I've gone out of style
You and me will always be just looking for something
That's already happened
Years go by
But you and I don't have to look beyond today
Maybe just for tonight
We can turn out the light
Lay your heart on the line
Let go of your mind
You know just what to say, you know just what to do
You still look like the day when I first met you
I'll be gone once again come morning like I've always done
But to see you tonight makes everything right
It's such a small world
Hey, right here you stand
As if it was planned
It's such a small world
Continuant amb el repàs als millors discs de 1974, avui fa 40 anys es publicava l´elepé més pletòric dels canalles Ian Hunter & cia, amb aquesta fantàstica portada...
The Hoople (by Mott The Hoople)
...i aquest grandiós single:
"The Golden Age Of Rock ´N Roll"
(a continuació vídeo d´una actuació al seu dia al Guitar Heroes de la BBC Four)
Ladies and gentlemen
The golden age of rock and roll....
Everybody hazy, shell-shocked and crazy
Screaming for the face at the window
Jeans for the genies, dresses for the dreamies
Fighting for a place in the front row
Ohhh, ohhh, ohhh
(It’s good for your body, it’s good for your soul)
Ohhh, ohhh, let’s go!
(It’s the golden age of rock and roll)
Well you getta little buzz, send for the fuzz
Guitars getting higher and higher
The dude in the paint thinks he’s gonna faint
Stoke more coke on the fire
Ohhh, ohhh, ohhh
(You gotta stay young, you can never grow old)
Ohhh, ohhh, whoooa
(It’s the golden age of rock and roll)
The golden age of rock and roll will never die
As long as children feel the need to laugh and cry
Don’t wanna smash - want a smash sensation
Don’t wanna wreck - just recreation
Don’t wanna fight - but if you turn us down
We’re gonna turn you around
Don't mess with the sound
The show’s gotta move, everybody groove
There ain’t no trouble on the streets now
So if the going gets rough
Don’t you blame us
You ninety-six decible freaks
Ohhh, ohhh, ohhh
(It’s good for your body, it’s good for your soul)
Ohhh, ohhh, whoooa
(It’s the golden age of rock and roll)
Ohhh, ohhh, ohhh
(You gotta stay young, you can never grow old, it's the golden age of rock and roll)
Ohhh, ohhh, whoooa
(It’s good for your body, it’s good for your soul)
Ohhh, ohhh, whoooa
(It’s the golden age of rock and roll)
Ohhh, ohhh, ohhh
(You gotta stay young, you can never grow old, it's the golden age of rock and roll)
Ohhh, ohhh, whoooa
(It’s good for your body, it’s good for your soul)
Ohhh, ohhh, whoooa
(It’s the golden age of rock and roll)
That’s all
(si bé al Regne Unit, Father´s Day és el tercer diumenge del mes de juny...)
És trista, però no tenc cap dubte que és la millor cançó que cap songwriter hagui dedicat mai a son pare (a més del goig de sentir la guitarra de Martin Simpson)
si no veus el vídeo que hi ha a continuació, pots fer clic AQUÍ
You were never any good with money, you couldn't even hold a job,
Not steady enough for the office, not hard enough for the hod.
You'd rather be riding your Norton or going fishing with your split cane rod.
You were never any good with money, you couldn't even hold a job.
When your grammar school days were over, it was nineteen-seventeen,
And you did the right and proper thing. You were just eighteen.
You were never mentioned in dispatches, you never mentioned what you did or saw.
You were just another keen young man in the mud and stink of war.
You were never any good with money, you couldn't even hold a job,
Not steady enough for the office, not hard enough for the hod.
You'd rather be singing The Pirate King or fishing with your split cane rod.
You were never any good with money, you couldn't even hold a job.
You came home from the Great War with the pips of a captain's rank,
A German officer's Luger and no money in the bank.
Your family sent you down in the coal mine to learn to be captain there,
But you didn't stand it very long, you needed the light and the air.
You were never any good with money, you couldn't even hold a job,
Not steady enough for the office, not hard enough for the hod.
You'd rather be watching performers fulmers fly or fishing with your split cane rod.
You were never any good with money, you couldn't even hold a job.
So when the Second War came along, you knew what should be done.
You would reenlist to teach young men the booby trap and the gun.
And they sent you home to Yorkshire with a crew and a Lewis gun
So you could save your seaside town from the bombers of the Hun.
And you were never any good with money, you couldn't even hold a job,
Not steady enough for the office, not hard enough for the hod.
You'd rather be finding the nightjar's nest or fishing with your split cane rod.
You were never any good with money, you couldn't even hold a job.
And when my mother came to your door with a baby in her arms,
Her big hurt boy, just nine years old, trying to keep her from harm
If you had been a practical man, you would have been forewarned.
And you would have seen that it never could work and I would have never been born.
There was no proper work in your seaside town, so you come here looking for a job.
You were store man at the power station just before I came along.
And nobody talked about how you quit, but I know that's what you did.
My mother said you were a selfish man and I was your selfish kid.
You were never any good with money, you couldn't even hold a job,
Not steady enough for the office, not hard enough for the hod.
And your Norton it was soon gone along with your split cane rod.
You were never any good with money. You couldn't even hold a job.
You showed me eyebright in the hedgerow, speedwell and traveler's-joy.
You showed me how to use my eyes when I was just a boy.
And you taught me how to love a song and all you knew of nature's ways,
These are the greatest gifts I have ever known and I use them every day.
You were never any good with money, you couldn't even hold a job,
Not steady enough for the office, maybe not hard enough for the hod.
You'd rather be riding your Norton or going fishing with your split cane rod.
You were never any good with money, you couldn't even hold a job.
Tornar trobar gent tan digne, agradable i amable com la que he trobat aquest cap de setmana de Saint Patrick a Gaillimh/Galway amb el meu amic David Andreu (membre de La Medusa) no serà gens fàcil!
Valgui idò un humil homenatge des d´Orphans Of Waits a tan entranyable localitat:
THE GALWAY HOOKER AND THE GALWAY GIRL
A la costa atlàntica d´Irlanda una "hooker" no té res a veure amb la meretriu de la postal de Minneàpolis del Blue Valentine de Tom Waits...
Se tracta d´una embarcació preciosa (vídeo il.lustratiu a continuació) que té com a únic defecte compartir els colors del Real Mallorca:
Així mateix l´embarcació ha donat nom a una amarga i deliciosa cervessa de no molt alta graduació, que se pot disfrutar als pubs com alternativa a la tòpica guiness.
I precisament a les parets d´un dels pubs amb més solera de Galway, regit per l´entranyable Cóilí, hi podeu trobar, entre moltes altres fotos, una del nostre "amic" Steve Earle flirtejant amb una al.lota vilatana.
interior del pub Tig Cóilí, situat al cèntric Latin Quarter
Cóilí me va explicar (mentrés li comprava una camiseta del pub amb el rostre de sa seva padrina fumant en pipa) que aquella al.lota de la foto era la famosa "The Galway Girl" a qui Earle va dedicar una cançó pel seu disc Trascendental Blues, publicat l´any 2000.
Com saben bé els lectors regulars d´aquest bloc, els Orphans estam una mica emprenyats amb Steve Earle pel seu "desplante" al Waiting For Waits 2009.
Així que enlloc d´adjuntar-vos un vídeo de la cançó original, ho faré d´una versió dels molt més simpatics The Kilkennys:
NOTA: si no veus el vídeo que hi ha a continuació, és que estàs llegint això amb un aypad (o i-paddy que supòs diuen a Irlanda). Blame it on Steve Jobbs!
"The Galway Girl"
Well, I took a stroll on the old long walk
Of a day -I-ay-I-ay
I met a little girl and we stopped to talk
Of a fine soft day -I-ay-I-ay
And I ask you, friend, what's a fella to do
'Cause her hair was black and her eyes were blue
And I knew right then I'd be takin' a whirl
'Round the Salthill Prom with a Galway girl
We were halfway there when the rain came down
Of a day -I-ay-I-ay
And she asked me up to her flat downtown
Of a fine soft day -I-ay-I-ay
And I ask you, friend, what's a fella to do
'Cause her hair was black and her eyes were blue
So I took her hand and I gave her a twirl
And I lost my heart to a Galway girl
When I woke up I was all alone
With a broken heart and a ticket home
And I ask you now, tell me what would you do
If her hair was black and her eyes were blue
I've traveled around I've been all over this world
Boys I ain't never seen nothin' like a Galway girl
És també molt recomenable allunyar-se del bulliciós centre i anar a disfrutar de la màgica experiència d´escoltar un concert al primer pis de TheCrane Bar, on la "house band" deixa participar lliurament (no sé si "folk jam session" seria un terme massa ortodox...) a qualsevol violinista amb ganes de lliurar-se espontàneament al seu amor per la música tradicional irlandesa.
Els músics (percusió, flauta, banjo, violins, acordions,...) seuen en torn a una taula , i els seus rostres denoten una vocació pura i dura per tocar. No sembla importar-lis gens ni mica si a les taules del voltant hi ha 6 ó 60 persones escoltant-los.
Vos assegur que observant els seus rostres hi havia moments on vaig haver de fer esforços per reprimir les llàgrimes...
A continuació teniu el vídeo-audio de la cançó del disc que va ser top-single, gràcies a una de les lletres amb més "enjundia" de l´història de la música Motown soul.
(en qualsevol cas, que el "fumeta" Robinson no vos engani: vegent el seu rostre, em jugo el meu carnet del Baleares a que va perdre sa virginitat amb no més de 12 ó 13 anys...)
"Virgin Man" - Smokey Robinson
Songwriters: Robinson, Smokey / Jones, Rose Ella
Can you love a virgin man Can you love a virgin man When I'm with my friends
And the man talk begins
And they brag about all the love they've known
I sit in the corner all alone
The best thing I can do is listen
The most I've done is just some kissin'
Can you love a virgin man (baby)
Can you love (really love) a virgin man How come people say
Lady virgin that's OK
But when the conversation turns around
Virgin man they always put him down
People say he must be "funny"
He ain't had a taste of honey
Can you love a virgin man (baby)
Can you love a virgin man
Can you love a virgin man
Can you love a virgin man
My gift of love has never been unwrapped
My well of love it still remains untapped (oh baby)
Can you love a virgin man (baby)
Can you love (really love) a virgin man
Can you (really) love a virgin man (baby)
How come people say
Lady virgin that's OK
But a man who is a man
Ain't supposed to be that way
No no no no no no
Can you love a virgin man (baby)
Can you love a virgin man
(Wonder what my friends would do if they only knew)
Can you love a virgin man
(I've been saving all my love for you, you)
Can you love a virgin man
They say making love's an art
In which each man should take part
By the time he reaches twenty one
Making love is something that he should have done
It ain't like I've never wanted to
But it's easier to think than it is to do
Can you (really) love a virgin man (baby)
Can you (really) love a virgin man
Can you love a virgin man
Can you love a virgin man
Can you love a virgin man
Can you love a virgin man
(Fades)
Després del festival "rojiblanco" d´ahir vespre, supòs que ja queden pocs dubtes de qui és el millor entrenador de fútbol del món (i al seu dia un grandíssim mig-campista que no necessitava nandrolona...).
Si a tot això li sumam que és l´única celebritat futbolera que se sembla a Tom Waits (des d´aquí proposam l´entrada imminent del Choloal misteriós club The Sons of Lee Marvin), i que defensa els colors d´un equip no-monàrquic, avui era el dia idoni per dedicar-li una entrada a Orphans:
A continuació hi havia un vídeo d´un tema en directe d´en Sabina ("Pongamos que hablo del Atlético de Madrid") però m´he vist obligat a llevar-lo per dos motius:
1) la seva ínfima qualitat musical
2) me fa por que les sangoneres de l´SGAE posin una denúncia als pobres orfes d´en Waits...
"Being powerful is like being a lady. If you have to tell people you are, you aren't."
Margaret Thatcher (buuuf!)
(idò qualque vegada tenia raó, que voleu que vos digui...
to be honest, Maggie was sometimes right...)
8 MARÇ - DIA INTERNACIONAL DE LES DONES
Com suposadament el bloc musical d´Orphans Of Waits perdurarà alguns anys, aquesta és només una primera entrega de cançons interpretades per dones maravelloses que ens van ajudar a esperar a Tom Waits a Mallorca (primera entrega: les darreres edicions del WFW => 2010, 2009 i 2008)
Una de les dues muses del WFW (juntament amb Lisa Germano).
Única artista en l´història del WFW que va actuar 4 vegades amb 3 sold-out! (a Muro al 2004, al conservatori de Palma a principis del 2007 i al Xesc Forteza a finals del 2007; la seva darrera actuació al WFW va ser al Teatre Principal de Palma al febrer de 2010).
Agraïment especial a Ignasi Julià (Ruta 66 - Tiempos de Rock & Roll) que a finals del 2003 va xerrar-li a Dayna del nostre festival, considerant-la una artista idònea per actuar-hi...va encertar de plé! (te dec una bona comisió, Ignasi, je,je)
vídeo-audio #2 el preciós tema de Dayna "Love Gets In The Way":
i've made love with one eye on the door
i've left good rooms with nothing to say
i wanted to love them
but love got in the way
i wanted to love them
but love gets in the way
and so what if everything's changed
and so what if i've held out for more
i'm all wild in places i wasn't before
i'm wild in places where i wasn't before
so come on and make a mess of me
i won't walk away
i'm ready as i'll ever be
i won't walk away
i want to be fed by you
i want to be led by you
i thought i wanted freedom
but love got in the way
i went looking for freedom
but love got in the way
so come on and make a mess of me
i won't walk away
i'm ready as i'll ever be
i won't walk away
Anècdota divertida: els membres de Hot Club Of Cowtown es van salvar de pagar excés d´equipatge amb easyjet (sleazyjet que solia dir Howe Gelb) per cantar-li una cançó a l´aeroport a l´al.lota que els hi facturava els vols a Palma!. Eren gent encantadora...
vídeo #3: H.C.O.C. interpretant "Long Way Home" de Tom Waits:
vídeo (#4) de "Mexico City" (tal vegada la millor cançó publicada l´any 2008?).
Fixau-vos bé amb els llavis de na Jolie, en segons quins gestos semblen els de n´Elvis!...
Jack and Edie lying across my bed
Flying high like the spirits of the dead
The living and the dead, the living and the dead
Our Lady of Sorrows and the long dark night
How many candles could I light
For the living and the dead, the living and the dead?
What's that black smoke rising Jack, is the world on fire?
What's that distant singing, is it a heavenly choir?
Of the living and the dead, the living and the dead
I think about you Jack watching the TV
And drinking booze, shame on you, shame on me
But how can we help it there was no where else to go
I sent Julie and Billy out on that long hard road
On that long hard road, on that long hard road
I'm just back from Mexico city
I came back north to Texas to rest my weary head
My true love is fresh from the battle field
Sewing up the dying and carting off the dead
My baby don't stand no fighting amongst the living or the dead
What's that black smoke rising Jack, is the world on fire?
What's that distant singing, is it a heavenly choir?
Of the living and the dead, the living and the dead
The living and the dead, the living and the dead
The living and the dead, the living and the dead
anècdota: el mateix dia que Dawn Landes (i Devon Sproule, veure a continuació) actuava al Centre de Cultura "Sa Nostra" de Palma, Tom Waits ho feia a Barcelona.
Devon es va inflar a vendre cds després de la seva actuació, on va conquerir al públic amb una desbordant simpatia. L´acompanyava a l´escenari un dels meus instrumentistes favorits: el sol.licitadíssim B.J. Cole(veure www)
vídeo (#6) Devon Sproule amb el seu marit Paul Curreri al show the Jools Holland interpretant el meu tema favorit del seu repertori: "Old Virginia Block"
If my ears hear a sigh of a shiny red violin
Clear by the Rivanna, down in the Blue Ridge.
By the dog bags and trash, by the bottles and cans
And the dead beat brown grass
and the red dirt in the Blue Ridge
Then my home must be around another good old Virginia block.
If my ears hear a note on the cello, so low, then a double stopping bow,
from my headphones, in the Blue Ridge.
Out walking at noon, appearing under the white of the daytime moon,
keeping my big blue balloon in my tight fist, in the Blue Ridge.
Then my home must be around another good old Virginia block.
If my ears hear the sound of a slate rock on the ground,
clicking the drops of the rain coming down, along a front walk, in the Blue Ridge
The rim of dirt on the brim of a brow, the skin of sweat on the handle of a plow,
Miles and miles of tobacco in the south, from a back road, in the Blue Ridge
Then my home must be around another good old Virginia block.
I've got family in Canada, family in New York
I've got friends in every other place I've played
But I can't keep from planting all my plans of family stuff
Down between the weeds in the red dirt clay
And where my ears hear a hundred bees riding that upwarding breeze,
a veil and a bucket by a pair of oak trees,
just another blond kid, in the Blue Ridge.
It's all to make a pattern of love, to roost a lava field of white doves,
with just a pitch fork and a pair of thick gloves,
for your whole life, in the Blue Ridge
The pick up and go - the bent back and the grunt-chucked coal,
The gleam of your white underclothes, in the back seat, in the Blue Ridge
The pile of bacon by a couple fried eggs, kiss marks and hearts on a picnic table leg,
The quartet fretting on up in my head, on my long walk, through the Blue Ridge.
And my home comes up around another good old Virginia block.
Sempre serà un orgull per Waiting For Waits que el debut a Espanya d´Eilen Jewell (aviat entrarà en el club de les grans dames de l´Americana junt amb Lucinda Williams i Gillian Welch) fos al teatre Xesc Forteza de Palma.
FOTO: ERIK JACOBS
vídeo (#7) de "Santa Fe"
vos ben assegur que amb els anys serà considerada una les millors cançons d´Americana de tots els temps(si no ho és ja!)
You picked up a broken bottle
In case anyone gave us any trouble
And we walked all the way back to Cortez
You sang help me dear doctor
At the top of your lungs
You'd been soaking up drink like a sponge
Little boy down the street
We all heard you mournfully
Call again and again for Roberta
Roberta…
The mountain towns burned red
Consumed by a sunset
I'd be happy disappearing under colors like that
And I fell in love with trains,
Haunted by the old refrain
You ride the Southern, I'll ride the Santa Fe
Santa Fe…
It was wrong of me to leave
'Cause I couldn't stand a perfect thing
But I was too young to know any better
And I'd give the world if it were mine
To let these memories slip my mind
And wake up next to you one more time
One more time…
"Townes
Van Zandt is the best songwriter in the whole world and I'll stand on
Bob Dylan's coffee table in my cowboy boots and say that" (Steve Earle)
"TVZ és el millor songwriter del món, i ho diria damunt sa taula de cafè d´en Bob Dylan amb ses meves botes cowboy posades"
"I've
met Bob Dylan and his bodyguards, and I don't think Steve could get
anywhere near his coffee table." (Townes Van Zandt)
"Jo he conegut a n´en Bob Dylan i als seus
guardaespatlles, i no crec que n´Steve es pogués apropar mai a la seva
taula de cafè"
Welcome to Orphans of Waits , Sylvie!
I was honoured to meet Sylvie Simmons in the Autumm 2000 while working at The Borderline´s ticket-office (best
said "freezing ticket-cage"). Ryan Adams had sold out for
his first solo career UK show.
Sylvie came with her boyfriend Neil, but
she did not have "plus one" on the list.
So I begged the bouncer to let both of
them in (risking my shitjob I assumed). His name was Ishmael (amateur
boxer as well) and he made a wisely sarcastic smile while he whispered:
"you want to make big contacts for your shows in Mallorca, eh, little
bastard, he-he".
So in came Neil and Sylvie to enjoy Ryan´s Heartbreaker...so glad that they did, because unfortunately Neil is no longer with us (rest in peace that extremely cool guy; as cool as Sylvie).
Vaig conéixer Sylvie Simmons la tardor de l´any 2000 quan treballava a la taquilla de The Borderline (sala de concerts del soho londinenc). Recordo que va venir a actuar Ryan Adams per presentar el seu nou projecte en solitari (disc Heartbreaker) després d´haver tancat l´etapa Whiskeytown. Es va crear un gran rebonbori mediàtic i fou un d´aquells vespres de sold-out cantat. Sylvie era a la llista de convidats, però no tenia "plus one" . Va venir amb la seva parella, i com el "segurata" no podia deixar passar ningú que no estés a la llista, ni li podíem vendre cap entrada, na Sylvie va donar mitja volta per anar-se´n. En un impuls de fan (era un autèntic goig llegir les seves ressenyes a la revista MOJO) li vaig demanar per favor a Ishmael (boxejador amateur a més de guarda de seguretat) que la parella de Simmons fos el meu "guest".
Recordo perfectament el seu somriure de "selfmade man" i com em va susurrar sarcàsticament "you want to make big contacts for your shows in Mallorca, eh little bastard?, he-he".
I cap endins entraren Sylvie i Neil per disfrutar dels temes del Heartbreaker de Ryan Adams.
Desgraciadament Neil ja no és entre nosaltres (en pau descansi), així que estic realment orgullós de que ella pogués disfrutar amb ell d´aquella especial vetlada de música en directe, enlloc d´haver-se anat a fer pintes pel Soho...
With her worlwide recognised subtle English sense of humour, the prestigious music journalist (MOJO magazine and the wonderful Too Weird For Ziggy stories) and author of indispensable biographies of Serge Gainsbourg(click www), Neil Young(click www) and Leonard Cohen(click www)...
... has made an effort to remember her introduction 10 years ago to the Darkness On The Edge Of Townes - tribute show to the one and only Townes Van Zandt, promoted by Waiting for Waits.
Amb el seu característic humor fi (100% anglés a pesar dels molts anys que du visquent a San Francisco), na Sylvie ha fet un esforç per recordar l´introducció que va fer del concert "Darkness On The Edge Of Townes" fa 10 anys al Centre de Cultura "Sa Nostra" de Palma...
Townes for Tomeu
[NOTA: si vols una traducció al català o al castellà d´aquest text de Sylvie Simmons, envia un correu a orphans.of.waits@gmail.com]
His life reads like a Tennessee Williams story or like one
of those great American ballads - a man born in Texas to a wealthy, high-class
oil-family, who sent him to military school and later, when it all went bad, to
a mental hospital. When he finally checked out he took to the road with his
guitar and a pen and never looked back; Townes, so his best friend Guy Clark said,
was "a rambling kind of guy". Along
the way he met Lightnin' Hopkins, who inspired him to play, Mickey Newbury, who
encouraged him to write, Jack Clement, who got him his first record deal, and
Roky Erickson, whose house and girlfriend he shared. And everywhere he went -
which, being a rambling kind of guy, was everywhere
- he played riveting performances of his songs.
Maybe he
rambled to Majorca too - I don't know, but I wouldn't put it past him; he was
still flying to England to perform towards the end of his too-short life.
Townes, his friends all say, was about as much concerned with looking after his
physical as he was his 'music career'.
His last-ever show was in December 1996 in London, at a basement Americana
music club called the Borderline.
Which, by
coincidence, was where I first met Tomeu, who told me about the show he was
going to put on in Majorca of singer-songwriters - British and Spanish - paying
tribute to Townes' songs.
Tomeu emailed me from Majorca recently to ask if I
would write my memories of the event for him to use in his upcoming celebration
of Townes' 70th birthday. But all I can remember are glimpses... a beautiful
but chilly villa in the orange groves, where we all stayed, drinking into the
early hours and fighting over who would get the extra blanket; hearing Nacho
Vegas for the first time; watching an old man in the audience slowly drift off
to sleep when I spoke and Tomeu translated; the dusty delicacy with which the
great Neil Halstead sang Townes' songs....
So instead Tomeu
asked me if I would write a little about Townes and what makes him special.
Hey, Townes was so special I could probably write a book - but, having just
recently completed a huge book on Leonard Cohen, for now I'll just contribute these
few words. Townes Van Zandt wrote unique, unflinching songs that both tear your
heart inside out and show you what it is to be alive. He captured the crazy
beauty and the deep melancholy of being alive like no-one else.
Sylvie interviewed TW in 2004 and told him off-the-record about our Waiting for Him festival. When she came back to The Borderline, she handed me a postcard signed by Tom. It said "stay green"...
Idò avui, amb motiu del 70 aniversari del dia del seu naixement, toca una miqueta de "brightness on the edge of Townes"...
So today, a little bit of "brightness on the edge of Townes" to celebrate TVZ 70th anniversary ...
video-audio:
TVZ "Fare thee well, Miss Carousel"
The drunken clown's still hanging round
but it plain the laughter's all died down
the tears you tried so hard to hide
are flowin'
A blind man with his knife in hand
has convinced himself that he understands
I wish him well, Miss Carousel
but I gotta be a-goin'
CHORUS:
Won't you come and get me when
you're sure that you don't need me then
I'll stand outside your window
and proudly call your name
The lady's been told that all of gold
is worth so much it can't be sold
No time to weep she'll need her sleep
tomorrow
When she carries her face to the market place
and bets it on the opening race
she can ring her bells, Miss Carousel,
but her singing brings me sorrow
(Repeat Chorus)
It's always done every mother's son
is shown that grown men never run
and so they fight with all the might
inside them
When the battle's been fought and they all been taught
that the trick is just not being caught
Will you give them hell, Miss Carousel,
when they're begging you to hide them
(Repeat Chorus)
When the need arose your eyes fell closed
you clamped your fingers round your nose
Would you say that's any way
to judge him
You haven't got the authority
to kill him in the first degree
but would you feel compelled, Miss Carousel,
if you had something to begrudge him
(Repeat Chorus)
On a velvet beach far beneath the reach
of those that come to pray and preach
The natural man who tries to stand
is fallin'
How long will it be before he sees
you own his legs but his mind is free
Only you can tell, Miss Carousel,
how long will he be crawling?
(Repeat Chorus)
The castle wall has grown so tall
it seems there ain't no hope at all
to reach the top even though you stop
for breathin'
But I ain't gonna try to make you cry
the tear drops couldn't find your eyes
It's all been swell, Miss Carousel,
but the time has come for leavin'
(Repeat Chorus)
Per escoltar la versió que va fer Nacho Vegas d´aquesta superlativa cançó, podeu clicar AQUÍ
If
you want to listen Nacho Vegas (the most respected Spanish songwriter
of the last decade) cover "Que te vaya bien, miss carrusel" you canclick HERE
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