As an offering to your erratic eminence
I will go for a run
Follow through on that job offering
Make another grilled cheese sandwich
Or perhaps a quiche
And try to remember this day when I am surrounded by pavement and dystopia in Brooklyn

Thank you for this evening
Thank you for yesterday evening
And last Saturday, for that matter
Thank you also for that one afternoon in Mississippi
Thank you for Tom Waits thank you for Caetano Veloso thank you for Milton Nascimento
Thank you most of all for Milton Nascimento
And choral music
And garlic
Thank you for this breeze, which raises a brief, yet lasting reminder of your presence
In a life as small and beautiful as mine

Det är gott men drar ner kondisen, med tio procent sägs det, så nu har jag ett nyinköpt plåsterpaket, 21 mg, värstingarna, i badrumsskåpet som jag ska börja kleta på mig vilken dag som helst nu.
Jag vet att det går.
Så sent som i mars knäcktes ett flera decennier långt och tungt Ettanmissbruk med hjälp av sådana där plåster.
Men det är den där morronciggen, efter dagens första dubbla espresso.
Det är den som är så förbannat god att man skjuter upp den där omplåstringen bara en dag till.
Och en dag till.
Och en dag till ...
* * *
Jag har grubblat ända sedan jag såg Junya Satos film »Yamato«.
Varför hade kamikazepiloterna hjälm?
* * *
Man kan inte umgås med kalkoner om man vill lära sig flyga.
* * *
»Intellektuellt arbete byggde denna kropp«.
Tryck på Martina Lowdens t-shirt.
* * *
Man vill ju inte vara sämre än Folk å Rock-Ingo, så nu ger även jag mig in i den ojämna högermarginalgenren. Fast jag gör det på ärans och hjältarnas språk och inte på tocken där utrikiska som Ingo svänger sig med.

Leonard Cohen minns
kvinnan på hotellrummet
som föredrog snygga män
men gjorde ett undantag
för honom

Tom Waits kör
sakta sin Ol' 55
under de slocknande
stjärnorna
och Dolly Parton ser
ljuset från en klar
blå morgon
* * *
Kanske skulle man ta sig en lyssna bara på Van Morrison-vecka nån gång också. I skrivande stund i skrivarstugans cd-spelare är det dubbelmackan Hymns to the Silence. Mannen vailade nyss med rösten och nu viskar han och väser och muttrar och fräser och tungomålstalar och stammar i »Take Me Back«.
* * *
Upptäcker under en rökpaus på skrivarstugans veranda att kamelen på Camelpaketet bara har en puckel och alltså är en dromedar.
* * *
Undrar just om Robert därborta på Södermalm känner till den här nya biografin om och av The Clash?
* * *
Det visar sig att det inte var värre med Chippenskadan än att jag klarar att powerwalka ett varv runt sportfältet med The Boxer. Till och med en bit lätt jogging klarar baksidan på låret.
Tur det – vill fan inte ha tillbaka den där ölmagen som det har tagit så många nyktra år att lubba bort.
* * *
Den nya musiktjänsten Spotify blir man ju nyfiken på.
* * *
Men jag förstår dom. Vem skulle be om ett paket »Dromedar« i kiosken. Själv är jag oerhört noga med att ciggen jag röker ska ha ett tufft namn. Det är inte mycket till image man annars har kvar att vårda i den här åldern.
* * *
Klockan 13 i morgon kliver den ständige ut till världspressen och meddelar att en annan storrökare, Paul Auster, får årets Nobelpris i litteratur.

Over the last couple of days, Tom Waits has added another to Come On Up To The House on the list, with the heartbreaking Tom Traubert's Blues (Four Sheets To The Wind in Copenhagen). Here is a song about travelling, to the best of my understanding, but not travelling like Bruce Parry does, or like I do when I go on holiday. Tom Waits' travelling is more stumbling hobo, staggering through the streets with no conception of why or where he is. He's blinded with tears, he's wretched, he's given up hope.

Sadness is a marketable commodity these days. Whether it's several entire genres of movies designed to make you cry, or a hundred identical boys with thick glasses and striped jumpers wrenching their tears free, there's a selling point in there. Everybody wants to feel like they're not alone when they're sad - when Eric Carmen sang "Don't wanna be all by myself", he wasn't kidding. Misery loves company. But most people are happy to wallow in the likes of this list: some wonderful songs on there of course, and some heartaching ones, but nobody does that combination of sad, lonely, pathetic and hopeless like Tom Waits.

I can be deeply thankful I've never found myself in Tom Traubert's battered Stacys. This song sums up every battered, helpless feeling you've ever had, and magnifies it by relocating to a foreign city, with an unknown woman, with Bushmills in hand, lost, without a friend. Wasted and wounded, it ain't what the moon did... No one speaks English, and everything's broken... Now I've lost my St. Christopher, now that I've kissed her... it's a battered old suitcase to a hotel someplace, and a wound that will never heal... For me, the most telling lyric is "Now the dogs are barking and the taxi cabs parking, A lot they can do for me". It seems to sum up that pitiful nothingness of the song's protagonist.

Waits shows his melodic nous here as well - the beginning of each stanza makes a point of refusing to resolve the last: the effect is that each verse sounds like it's getting higher and higher than the one before, without actually changing in pitch. It's a trick of harmonic suspension that dates back to Wagner, who created the love and longing in Tristan und Isolde with it.

Above all that though, the lyrical and harmonic majesty, it's Tom Waits and with a voice like that, it was never going to be anything other than completely affecting. And so here, on the Old Grey Whistle Test - I almost shed a swift tear.

Tom Waits - Tom Traubert's Blues (Four Sheets to the Wind in Copenhagen)

That's just for this month, though.

Here's what I saw:

Q: What is up with your ears?

A: I have an audio stigmatism where by I hear things wrong- I have audio illusions. I guess now they say ADD. I have a scrambler in my brain and it takes what is said and turns it into pig Latin and feeds it back to me.

That is exactly what is going on with my brain. At long last, I'm not alone in the world.

]]> http://msfields.wordpress.com/?p=163 Sun, 05 Oct 2008 12:32:05 +0000 msfields http://msfields.fr.wordpress.com/2008/10/05/bram-stokers-dracula/ Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992)

--Do you believe in destiny? That even the powers of time can be altered for a single purpose? That the luckiest man who walks upon this earth is the one who finds... true love?

Bram Stoker’s immortal tale has been retold innumerable times. Its earliest version was the German silent classic, Nosferatu, which was famous for stripping away the romantic glamour of Dracula and showing him as the true undead creature he is. It is considered by many to be the scariest film ever made. Dracula was most famously portrayed by Bela Lugosi in the 1931 Tod Browning film. Lugosi made Dracula creepy but charming, sexy but sad. He is the yardstick by which all other vampires are measured.

I have a confession to make: vampires terrify me and always have. From the time I was a child, I have had dreadful nightmares starring the blood suckers. Needless to say, on the whole I’m not too fond of them and regard them unaffectionately as giant, overgrown ticks or other parasite. I am attracted to tales of immortals and their lives, but vampirism is my least favorite form of that genre. I tend to enjoy tales told from the point of view of vampire slayers like Buffy. Dracula, in fact, symbolizes in one character the most frightening boogeyman of my childhood and just reading the novel was an accomplishment for me. It was not easy for me to watch this film either although this now makes my second viewing.

Francis Ford Coppola ramps up the blood and the sex in this adaptation. The film has a beautiful mise en scene. The female characters wear gorgeous costumes in the first half of the film before changing to more sober garments in the later portion. All of the gothic elements are in place: a graveyard, a castle, a gigantic mansion, a madhouse, superstitious peasants, wolves, bats, fog. The atmosphere is so thick it practically flows off the screen into your living room.

The cast is certainly A-list: Gary Oldman, Anthony Hopkins, Winona Ryder, Keanu Reeves, Cary Elwes, Richard E. Grant and Tom Waits. Oldman tries to duplicate Lugosi’s sexy but sad, creepy but charming routine and succeeds to a certain extent. Although I appreciate the scenes that show Dracula as the corpse he really is, I felt Oldman’s performance was better as the younger-looking romantic Dracula. Anthony Hopkins is solid as Van Helsing, but not overwhelming. Cary Elwes and Richard E. Grant are both good as Lucy’s suitors while Tom Waits is a standout as the ever creepy Renfield. Keanu Reeves, unfortunately, is a bit stiff, especially in the earliest scenes. He relaxes more in the action scenes at the end. That leaves Winona Ryder. Her Mina is a confused young woman trying to maneuver through the pitfalls of Victorian sexual morality. She loves her fiancé, but she is also drawn to the exotic stranger wooing her in Jonathan’s absence. The new feelings he inspires in her are contrary to what she has been carefully taught.

What is about vampires? What makes them so scary to some and so irresistible to others? Vampire lovers point to the temptation of immortality and usually see all of the versions of Dracula as bittersweet love epics spanning the ages. As for me, I think it could be several factors about the creatures that frighten me. One that most readily comes to mind is a deep rooted fear I have about something preying on me in my sleep. It could be as simple as associating them with mosquitoes and their bites which I am allergic to or it could be a by-product of my fear of snakes…things with fangs, perhaps? In any event, I can count on one hand the number of vampire characters I’ve encountered in any fictional form that I enjoyed and pretty much only one that I genuinely like: Joss Whedon’s character Angel. Still, if you’d like to revisit the Count one more time this is a beautifully produced, lush rendition.

EM CARTAZ

Espetáculo: BEATLES NUM CÉU DE DIAMANTE

Charles Möeller e Claúdio Botelho fazem uma releitura das músicas dos Beatles, contando a trajetória de uma jovem da adolescência à vida adulta.

Texto: Charles Möeller e Cristiano Gualda. Direção: Charles Möeller. Direção Musical: Cláudio Botelho. Com Gottsha, Marya Bravo.

Dias/Horários/Preços: R$50 (QUI e SEX)/ R$60 (SÁB e DOM). Quinta às 18h; Sexta e sábado às 21h e Domingo ás 20h.

Local: Teatro Leblon - Sala Fernanda Montenegro (Rua Conde de Bernadotte, 26, Leblon)

Contato: (21) 2529-7700

**

Espetáculo: OS CAFAJESTES

Comédia musical de Aninha Franco brinca com os principais clichês do machismo e suas consequências, ilustrados por clássicos da MPB.

Direção: Fernando Guerreiro. Com Fábio Lago, Juan Alba, Leo Jaime e Osvaldo Mil.

Horários/Preços: R$50. Segunda e Terça às 21h.

Local: Teatro das Artes (Rua Marquês de São Vicente, 52/2º piso, Shopping da Gávea)

Contato: (21) 2540-6004

**

Espetáculo: CAIDAÇA

A Verdadeira Falsa Cantora de Cabaré. Stella Miranda dirige e estrela o espetáculo sobre uma mulher a caminho da terceira idade, cuja vida é embalada nas músicas de Tom Waits e Amy Whinehouse.

Direção: Stella Miranda. Com Carol Machado e Daniel Kristensen. Coreografia de Debora Colker.

Dias/Horários/Preços: R$40. Sexta a Sábado às 21h e Domingo às 20h.

Local: Espaço Cultural Sérgio Porto (Rua Humaitá, 163, Humaitá)

Contato: (21) 2266-0896

**

Espetáculo: AS CENTENÁRIAS

Duas carpideiras, que passam a vida em velórios e enterros no interior do Nordeste, encontram com celebridades locais e entram em confronto com a Morte.

Texto: Newton Moreno. Direção: Aderbal Freire-Filho. Com Marieta severo, Andréia Beltrão e Sávio Moll.

Dias/Horários/Preços: R$60(QUI e SEX)/R$70 (SÁB). Quinta a Sábado às 21h e Domingo às 20h.

Local: Teatro Poeira (Rua São João Batista, 104, Botafogo)

Contato: (21) 2537-8053

**

Espetáculo: CORDÉLIA BRASIL

Censurada em 1968, quando foi estrelada por Norma Benguell, a tragicomédia de Antônio Bivar sobre a auxiliar de escritório que se prostitui para sustentar seu companheiro, ganha nova montagem.

Direção: GIlberto Gawronski. Com Maria Padilha, Cadu Fávero e George Sauma.

Dias/Horários/Preços: R$16. Quinta a Sábado às 21h e Domingo às 20h.

Local: Espaço Sesc (Rua Domingo Ferreira, 160, Copacabana)

Contato: (21) 2547-0156

**

Ele insistia em tomar gim naquele pulgueiro de beira de estrada. Resmungou para o garçom mais gelo, mas não deram ouvidos. Ele observava a menina no balcão, algo chamava atenção naquela de cabelo grudendo no balcão, era o cigarro, a fumaça o puxava para ela e ele não conseguia desviar a atenção.

O cheiro o embalava como a música do Tom Waits fazia. Tomou em um só trago o gim, e no seu repertório imaginário ouvia um velho blues, a chuva acompanhava a batida e ele pediu mais um trago.

Ameçou se levantar para pedir um cigarro para a moça, mas um movimento brusco o fez parar,

Agora ela esta andando em direção a ele, ela briga com um ou outro cara no meio do caminho. Ela já esta passando do meio do caminho e ele se acovardou em seu canto. Ela o fita e sorri de canto de boca, ele vai em direção a rua logo atrás dela, tinha certeza que aquilo não era um teste... Aquilo era uma oferenda da terra da garoa para ele.

Come gather 'round cats and kittens while I laddle a little beat poetry into your soul waffle iron.

Here's seven slabs from my book of beatnik poems entitled Burma Signs Express: Observational Poetic Hogwash bled from Skids Turmoil. Don't look for it on Amazon or in Barnes & Noble, it's published by copy machines I've passed along the way on my career path.

The backstory. I worked a couple crappy ad jobs, got fired, saw an ad in AD AGE for "Circus Marketing Directors", laughed with a pal in a bar about how funny it'd be if I applied for it (sweet beer courage), applied for it, interviewed, got the job and ran away and joined the circus. I traveled ahead of the Clyde Beatty-Cole Bros. Circus Big Top and pimped the show in glamorous locals like Methuen, MA, Oneonta, NY, Bluefield, WV, Greenwood, MI, Port Arthur, TX-- you get the drift. 

I was the lonely carny man, a stranger in town living in cheap motels and hunkered over plates in greasy spoons slurping weak coffee and fighting the madness of loneliness. A young man trapped in a Tom Waits world.

I did that gig for a circus season and came back to reality. Then, at the tender age of 23, finally got around to reading Jack Keoruac's "On The Road". Having just come off the road, the manic prose of that way gone daddy was like angels blasting my eardrums out. I had heart palpitations. There were times I had to put the book down. Had to, man, lest I bust.

I had always suspected I was born in the wrong time. Always thought I was born too late. I was late to the beatnik party and beat was what I felt I was. I was young man out of time.

So for the next year and a half, I casually explored my beat soul: working my ad job by day and exploring my beat world by night. I wrote 96 of these beat poems, assembled them in an order that made some sense to me and called it "Burma Signs Express"  because like the old Burma Shave signs that were used along the road for so many years, together these poems would tell a story. Maybe they did, I don't know, but the beat journey was fun (and much cheaper than therapy).

Oh, and the name "Skids Turmoil", well, artsy fartsy types call writing under a different identity a nom de plume (pardon my French). I call it a fun beat name. These poems were written on an ancient 1950's IBM electric typewriter with a gorgeous font and erratic key striking pressure. I think the machine added to the beat soul of the project.

Here then are seven swatches, seven signs along the road. Maybe they'll add up to something for you, dig. 

widowers-cafe

so-littles-left

everybody-in-place

ears-afire

coaxed-spokes

blank-fewer

aesop-slop

Να καπνίσω ήθελα σήμερα – και δεν κάπνισα πάλι. Να γράψω δυο-τρία μεγάλα μηνύματα σε δυο-τρεις ανθρώπους, που θα θέλουν να μάθουν νέα μου, θέλω εδώ και μέρες να το κάνω, μα δεν πρόκειται να το κάνω απόψε (ή μήπως να γράψω ένα τηλεγράφημα, έστω, στη Μαριλένα;). Να μεταφράσω, πάντως, άλλο απόψε δεν το βλέπω να γίνεται.

Αυτό που κάνω από τις έντεκα η ώρα και μετά, κι αφού όλοι πέσανε για ύπνο στο σπίτι, είναι ν’ ακούω Tom Waits (ή/και Kronos Quartet) και να κοιτάζω την οθόνη του υπολογιστή ή τις τρεις γάτες που κοιμούνται σ’ ένα καλάθι στην μπροστινή βεράντα και κάθε φορά που ανοίγω το παράθυρο τινάζονται και με κοιτάζουν ενοχλημένες και να ψιθυρίζω, ως άλλος Τριάντης, «αργούν να βγουν κι οι Σημειώσεις».

Λέω να ακούσω άλλη μια φορά το God's Away on Business, να τελειώσω το Jameson που έχω βάλει στο ποτήρι μου και να πάω στο κρεβάτι κι εγώ – όχι για ύπνο όμως. Θα διαβάσω την Ιστορία της μελαγχολίας απόψε, έτσι έχω αποφασίσει, ποιο κεφάλαιο όμως; Την Παρέκβαση για τα δεινά του κόσμου των γραμμάτων· γιατί οι Μούσες έχουν μελαγχολία ή μήπως, για ν’ αλλάξουμε τόνο (που λέει κι ο Καρυωτάκης), τα Συμπτώματα μελαγχολίας σε παρθένες, καλόγριες και χήρες.

Καλό μήνα. Some days are better than others (U2).      

I spent an enjoyable last evening listening to Tom Waits and reading Bukowski poetry. I'm very beat. I recently finished Ham On Rye, and thoroughly enjoyed it: it's a very different sort of book from that to which I'd normally be drawn, but nevertheless it was compelling, brutally honest and a little bit sick.

I had always dismissed beat writing, to some extent: I read On The Road when I was too young, and have steered clear since from Ginsberg, Bukowski, Burroughs et al. But I was recently gently forced to read some Richard Brautigan, and found it charming, different and well worth my time. What endears Brautigan to me, and certainly Bukowski as well, is that charming naivety in their writing: on the one hand it's uncultured, short, and certainly not pretentious (as I had expected). On the other hand, look closer and it's extremely well-written.

Ham On Rye was a case in point, and I can compare it with what I'm reading now, The Old Gringo by Carlos Fuentes (btw, you just missed him). Fuentes' style is florid, full of colons and semi colons, superlatives, sweeping, panoramic scenery and insightful insights - I guess like a lot of authors that I love: Umberto Eco, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Bruce Chatwin (perhaps not quite  so much) and so on. Compared to these heavyweights, Bukowski's terse prose is kind of a refreshing change. I love the writing of these above, don't get me wrong: but every so often something is necessary to slap you around a bit.

Ham on Rye is so brutally honest it's almost painful to read at times. It's written as though it's juvenile protagonist was preparing the words himself, and thus there's no gushing literature or pomposity. Yet every word is in it's place, nothing's overdone, and it's just fantastic and it speaks volumes that, despite Henry Chinaski's complete vileness, the reader is very taken with him by the end.

The general squalor and sleaze fits well with Tom Waits' music, and especially his earlier barroom jazz. You could perhaps square him against Nick Cave, or Radiohead: artists just as vital but in a completely different realm, and with a completely different depiction of what art consists of.

 a whole nation... doing everything in the worst way possible, like voting for the presidential candidate who reminded them most of themselves

Charles Bukowski, Ham On Rye

Anyway, the winner this week is Tom Waits with 45 plays.

Rounding up the top five was Neil Patrick Harris, Boards of Canada, The Clean and Mogwai. Neil Patrick Harris makes it to second on the back of his four songs in the Doctor Horrible soundtrack. The trailer for that is below. I'm still listening to that over and over.

Another new feature I'm introducing to the "Band of the Week" is a new table. I decided to keep a points total for each band based on their plays for each week. It's also going to be adjusted for time, so bands that I'm listening to recently will be worth just that little more. I've been using last.fm for 6 weeks now to keep track of my listening habits - so here is the first list based on those first six weeks.

1. Mogwai 40.97
2. The Beatles 40.57
3. The Clean 35.77
4. R.E.M. 32.31
5. Neil Patrick Harris 28.72
6. DeVotchka 26.75
7. Belle & Sebastian 24.17
8. Tom Waits 22.04
9. The Chills 19.26
10. The Sparks 17.94

I'll post the full table over the break.

Jeg kan jo ta for meg artister jeg ikke helt takler. Først må jeg jo bare si det da at det virker som terskelen til studio og plateutgivelse har blitt EKSTREEEEMT lav for tiden. Hvem som helst kan jo gi ut plate. Og vet du hva? Jeg tror Idol er en stoooor synder der. Idol viste liksom at hvem som helst kan bli artist, og om du ved impuls fikk lyst til å stikke på en audition så kan du faktisk ende opp med å bli artist.. og det har gjort at standaren for artister har blitt superlav og jeg er en av de som må lide ved å høre musikken når jeg f.eks må ut å handle eller sitter på en kafé.

Men ja..artister jeg ikke takler.. du har jo f.eks Neil Young, Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan, Creedence Clearwater Revival er bl.a de artistene fra Oooold time som jeg ikke klarer. Null fan av musikken deres og synes jah..det fenger ikke i ørene mine. Jeg vet jeg beveger meg på tynn is her nå, men den sjansen er jeg NØDT til å ta ;)
Av kvinnelige artister så har vi jo også noen å ta av da.. Mariah Carey, Britney Spears, Cher, Christina Aguilera, Dido og ørten andre som jeg faktisk ikke har orket å lære meg navnet på.

La meg slippe å nevne boybanda..

Men mannlige og kvinnelige artister som er prime of the prime i mitt hodet er: Tom Waits, Jeff Buckley, Sufjan Stevens, Tony Bennet, Ben Harper, Thomas Dybdahl, Paal Flaata (riktignok i Midnight Choir) John Legend, Samuel Ljungblahd, Rick Pino, Jason Upton, Tori Amos, Ella Fitzgerald, Regina Spektor, Silje Nergaard, Maria Solheim, Misty Edwards.. jah.. det er så typisk at hjernen blir tømt for navn når jeg faktisk skal skrive om det.

Det finnes jo band som bare gir deg THE RIGHT FEELING liksom. A Perfect Circle, Pain of Salvation, Silver (HVERTFALL Billboard Blackout ep'n), Samuel Ljungblahd, Blindside, Thomas Dybdahl...yeah! Noe bare gir deg good feeling lissom:)

HVA gir deg good feeling når det kommer til musikk? Tell me tell me :)

Jeg synes det er en næsten uoverskuelig stor opgave, men nu er koder jo heller ikke min stærke side, og jeg priser mig lykkelig for, at der er skrappe kodehoveder i gruppen - og jeg hænger på så godt jeg kan!

Jeg har bestilt en ny bog på Amazone og jeg går og glæder mig vildt til den ankommer i min postkasse. Mit forrige indlæg her på bloggen omhandler den bog, som er en bog om håndtegnet mønstre.
Min plan er, at komme lidt igang med papir og pen og så på et senere tidspunkt, at kunne kombinere det analoge med det digitale og prøve, at få noget spændende ud af det.

Praktik, praktik, praktik......Tiden nærmer sig og jeg skal igang med, at have sendt nogle ansøgninger ud......men hvortil???

Mit ønske: et uformelt inspirerende kreativt "værksted" - Design/kunst.

Hm, hvor finder jeg det?
Jeg er optimistisk og tror på, at jeg finder det!

Nu er klokken blevet mange og jeg har svært ved, at komme op og igang så tidligt som mit skema kræver det, så jeg vil slutte her og sætte lidt musik på...

Nel 1971 mentre vivevo a Londra, stavo lavorando con un amico, Alan Power, intorno a un film sulla gente che viveva sulla strada nella zona attorno a Elephant and Castle e la stazione Waterloo. Quando erano ripresi, alcuni si mettevano a cantare canzoni da ubriachi – qualche volta pezzi di opere, qualche volta ballate sentimentali – e uno di loro, uno che in realtà non beveva, cantò una canzone religiosa, "Jesus' Blood Never Failed Me Yet". Questo pezzo alla fine non fu usato nel film e tutte le parti inutilizzate del nastro mi furono consegnate, compresa questa.

Quando la suonai a casa, scoprii che il canto di quell'uomo era in tono col mio piano, e improvvisai un breve acccompagnamento. Notai anche che la prima sezione della canzone – 13 battute in lunghezza – formava un efficace loop che si ripeteva in modo sottilmente imprevedibile. Portai il nastro a Leicester, dove lavoravo nella Facoltà di Belle Arti, e copiai il loop in una bobina continua, pensando di aggiungerci magari un accompagnamento orchestrale. La porta della sala di registrazione dava su una dei grandi laboratori di pittura e lasciai il nastro a copiare con la porta aperta mentre uscivo per un caffè. Tornando trovai la sala, che normalmente è molto animata, calma in modo innaturale. La gente si muoveva molto più lentamente del solito e alcuni stavano seduti da soli, piangevano in silenzio.

Mi stupii, e poi mi accorsi che il nastro stava ancora suonando, e che tutti si erano commossi a sentire quell'uomo cantare. Questo mi convinse del potere emotivo della musica e delle possibilità aperte con l'aggiunta di un semplice, anche se gradualmente in crescendo, accompagnamento orchestrale che rispetti la nobiltà e la fede semplice del vagabondo. Sebbene sia morto prima di poter ascoltare quello che avevo composto con il suo canto, il pezzo rimane un'eloquente, anche se contenuta, testimonianza del suo spirito e del suo ottimismo.

Il pezzo fu inciso in origine per la Obscure label di Brian Eno nel 1975, e per Point Records nel 1993 in una versione profondamente rivista ed estesa. La versione fatta dal mio gruppo fu composta per l'occasione nel 1993 nell'ultima incisione.

(traduzione dall'inglese di yours truly)
testo in inglese

(il CD Point Record è segnalato da Luca Sofri qui nel suo blog)

By Joel Francis

Robert Plant may never outlive the shadow of his onetime partner Jimmy Page, but Tuesday night at Starlight he showed unimaginable growth with his unlikely new muse, bluegrass legend Allison Krauss.

The pair's 23 song, two-hour set explored nearly every facet of American music with a subtly, nuance and beauty Plant's former four-piece could only dream of. From a rockabilly cover of Ray Charles' "Leave My Woman Alone" to Leadbelly's "In the Pines" the pair's voices waltzed in perfect, egoless harmony.

Clad in all black, Plant slinked around the stage like a cat burglar before spontaneously hopping into a spry dance step. Krauss stood in contrast in a bright floral dress, sporting a wide smile and, frequently, a violin on her shoulder.

"Black Dog" was reworked with a banjo delivering the main riff as Plant and Krauss's voices circled each other on the call-and-response chorus. A spellbinding reading of "Killing the Blues" in the encore set may have been the ultimate demonstration of their musical synergy.

The hammer of the gods may have been missing, but classics like "When the Levee Breaks" (to which Plant snuck a snippet of Bob Dylan's "Girl of the North Country") and "Black Country Woman" had plenty of thunder. A cover of Townes Van Zandt's "Nothin'" outrocked ‘em all, though. A harrowing tale of addiction much in the same vein as John Lennon's "Cold Turkey," one could feel the symptoms of withdrawal dripping from the stage as Plant unleashed a couple of his trademark primal wails.

It would be easy for a rocker of Plant's status to command the stage and bring a captivating performance, but he was very much a team player. He turned the stage over to Krauss for a stunning a cappella reading of "Down to the River to Pray" (boosted by the stellar backing vocals of guitarist Buddy Miller and fiddle/banjo/mandolin player Stuart Duncan) and a haunting version of Tom Waits' "Trampled Rose." Even bandleader T-Bone Burnett, producer of Krauss and Plant's "Raising Sand" album, the "O Brother Where Art There Soundtrack" got the spotlight for a song.

Other highlights included a chipper "Gone Gone Gone" performed in front of a shimmering gold curtain that helped the song feel like an autumn road trip. Plant's solo hit "In the Mood" was married to the Irish melody of "Matty Groves" and was a welcome surprise. "The Battle of Evermore" was the rare Zeppelin number that wasn't radically reworked.

The assembly of Miller, Duncan, Burnett, acoustic bass player Dennis Crouch and drummer Jay Bellerose defy the term "backing band." Their collective resumes include work with Waits, Elvis Costello, Beck, Emmylou Harris and Steve Earle, to name a few. Amazing songwriters and musicians in their own right, each of these guys are more than capable of mesmerizing solo performances. Together, they might be the greatest band of ringers ever assembled.

The wealth of material worked up for this tour begs for proper release on an encore collaboration or concert release. The entire evening was a treat that deserves to be relived as many times as possible. Hopefully the tour of a lifetime will be preserved for even longer.