Il Dylan degli anni Ottanta, da sempre etichettato come il Dylan "minore". E in parte sarà sicuramente vero, eppure io trovo che questo album sia un capolavoro.
Certo, i dischi dei '60 sono rivoluzionari, la trilogia elettrica ha fatto la storia del rock, e via dicendo. Ma Infidels - che sul piano strettamente musicale può vantare la produzione e la chitarra di Mark Knopfler - è il capolavoro della maturità; è il manifesto di un Dylan ormai disilluso: disilluso rispetto agli ideali giovanili dei primi album di protesta, alla fuga nei mondi surreali e visionari del signor Tamburino, alla conversione alla fede cristiana che aveva partorito la trilogia religiosa immediatamente precedente a quest'album. Infidels è l'album in cui Dylan sembra finalmente togliersi tutte le maschere e fare i conti con se stesso e con il mondo che lo circonda, affrontando temi importanti quali la religione, la politica, il progresso, il capitalismo, la condizione umana, con la voce dell'uomo maturo e disincantato, impietoso nel ritratto di una realtà spietata e degradata. Questo è un disco apparentemente facile e leggero, ma in realtà carico di contenuti e di innumerevoli spunti di riflessione.
Prendiamo la traccia d'apertura, la celebre "Jokerman": dietro un motivo facile ed orecchiabile si nasconde una lucidissima riflessione sulla religione e sui suoi paradossi; protagonista un'enigmatica figura divina o semi-divina (potrebbe essere Gesù Cristo - o anche no - ma non ha importanza) che sembra divertirsi con beffarda crudeltà a disorientare gli uomini mentre il mondo sprofonda nel baratro della guerra e della violenza. Nel testo Dylan riesce a disseminare con leggerezza incredibile una moltitudine di citazioni e riferimenti biblici, arrivando persino - nel finale - a prefigurare l'avvento dell'Anticristo. Non male, da parte di uno che fino all'album precedente cantava inni di lode al Signore e alla sua Grazia redentrice. E che ora ha le idee ben più chiare sul tema religioso, tanto che non si fa problemi a cantare - in "License to Kill" - che "l'altare a cui [l'uomo] prega è una pozza stagnante, e quando vede il suo riflesso è soddisfatto". "License to Kill" è forse la canzone più amara del lotto, quella in cui la disillusione assume i toni più pessimistici e senza via di scampo, nella descrizione di un'umanità accecata dall'avidità e dalla violenza, irrimediabilmente instradata verso l'autodistruzione. Un'umanità in cui "certe volte Satana si annuncia come un uomo di pace" ("Man of Peace") e fa subito proseliti tra gli uomini con i suoi modi affabili e seducenti.
"Neighborhood Bully" e "Union Sundown" trattano invece in maniera molto diretta (troppo?) temi di scottante attualità: rispettivamente, la questione di Israele (per la quale Dylan fu subito tacciato di sionismo) e la globalizzazione economica. Entrambe molto controverse, sono forse i brani più deboli dell’album, assieme alla conclusiva "Don't Fall Apart on Me Tonight", tipica canzone d'amore amara e sofferta come Bob ci aveva abituato fin dai tempi di Blood on the Tracks.
Ma a mio modesto parere le due perle più luminose di questo disco sono le stupende "Sweetheart Like You" e "I and I".
La prima, dolcissima, sembra una semplice canzone d'amore e invece è qualcosa di più. Lo scenario è sempre quello di una società spietata e corrotta, ma qui fortunatamente c'è una via di scampo, ed è rappresentata appunto da questa sorta di donna-angelo quasi stilnovistica, questa figura mistica e idealizzata a cui Dylan si rivolge accoratamente: "Ma cosa ci fa una bella ragazza come te in un buco come questo?" Molto si potrebbe discutere sull'identità di questa figura angelica che mostra al cantautore la via per "la terra dell'eterna beatitudine": c'è chi dice che potrebbe essere ancora una volta Cristo, visti anche qui gli insistiti rimandi alla Bibbia nel testo. Ma siccome alla fine ognuno è libero di dare l'interpretazione che vuole, personalmente mi sento di appoggiare un'analisi letta su Internet di un fan che la identificava con la Statua della Libertà, e di conseguenza con la personificazione della Libertà stessa per la quale Dylan rivendicherebbe dolcemente e fieramente l'amore, in un mondo che tende sempre più a soffocarla e umiliarla. Poi magari Dylan aveva in mente tutt'altro, ma mi piace vederla così perché mi ricorda per certi versi quell'altro gran pezzo di capolavoro che è "Se ti tagliassero a pezzetti" di Fabrizio De André, con quella sua appassionata dichiarazione d'amore alla "signora Libertà, signorina Anarchia" che peraltro è di appena due anni prima. Ma ora non voglio divagare troppo.
"I and I", infine, è forse il vero capolavoro del disco. Uno stupendo pezzo intimista in cui l'autore fa finalmente i conti se stesso. Io ed io. Robert Zimmermann e Bob Dylan. L'uomo e l'artista. La persona e la maschera. "Uno dice all'altro: nessuno vede la mia faccia e vive ancora". E ancora una volta l’amarezza, il pessimismo, la disillusione di fronte ai principi religiosi, agli ideali giovanili, alle illusioni dell'amore e dei sentimenti. Cosa è rimasto di tutto ciò nel Dylan di oggi? "Una volta ho preso un sentiero non battuto, dove non è il più agile a vincere la corsa, ché anzi la vince chi più vale, chi sa dispensare la parola di verità. C'è voluta una straniera a insegnarmi a fissare il bel volto della giustizia e a vedervi occhio per occhio e dente per dente" (...) "Con la mia bocca sta parlando qualcun altro, ma io presto ascolto solo al cuore. Ho fatto calzari per tutti, anche per voi, e vado ancora scalzo". Bellissimo. "I and I" è, insieme a "My Back Pages", "Not Dark Yet" e poche altre, una delle rare canzoni in cui Bob Dylan mette a nudo la propria anima e ci si presenta finalmente con le sue debolezze, insicurezze e sofferenze.
O forse no. O forse è solo un'altra maschera di un personaggio inafferrabile e indefinibile, che da decenni si diverte a confondere il suo pubblico presentandosi in vesti sempre diverse e imprevedibili. Anzi, torniamo alla prima traccia. Torniamo a "Jokerman". Il beffardo e inafferrabile uomo-jolly che è tutti e nessuno, è Cristo e l'Anticristo, Dio e Satana, il sacro e il profano allo stesso tempo. E se non fosse niente di tutto questo? E se - come ipotizzato da molti - fosse semplicemente lo stesso Bob Dylan?
Oh, Jokerman, you know what he wants.
Oh, Jokerman, you don't show any response.
Elenco tracce testi samples e video
01 Jokerman (06:19)
Standing on the water casting your bread
While the eyes of the idol with the iron head are glowing.
Distant ships sailing into the mist,
You were born with a snake in both of your fists while a hurricane was blowing.
Freedom just around the corner for you
But with truth so far off, what good will it do?
Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune,
Bird fly high by the light of the moon,
Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.
So swiftly the sun sets in the sky,
You rise up and say goodbye to no one.
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread,
Both of their futures, so full of dread, you don't show one.
Shedding off one more layer of skin,
Keeping one step ahead of the persecutor within.
Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune,
Bird fly high by the light of the moon,
Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.
You're a man of the mountains, you can walk on the clouds,
Manipulator of crowds, you're a dream twister.
You're going to Sodom and Gomorrah
But what do you care? Ain't nobody there would want to marry your sister.
Friend to the martyr, a friend to the woman of shame,
You look into the fiery furnace, see the rich man without any name.
Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune,
Bird fly high by the light of the moon,
Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.
Well, the Book of Leviticus and Deuteronomy,
The law of the jungle and the sea are your only teachers.
In the smoke of the twilight on a milk-white steed,
Michelangelo indeed could've carved out your features.
Resting in the fields, far from the turbulent space,
Half asleep neath the stars with a small dog licking your face.
Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune,
Bird fly high by the light of the moon,
Oh. oh. oh. Jokerman.
Well, the rifleman's stalking the sick and the lame,
Preacherman seeks the same, who'll get there first is uncertain.
Nightsticks and water cannons, tear gas, padlocks,
Molotov cocktails and rocks behind every curtain,
False-hearted judges dying in the webs that they spin,
Only a matter of time 'til night comes steppin' in.
Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune,
Bird fly high by the light of the moon,
Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.
It's a shadowy world, skies are slippery gray,
A woman just gave birth to a prince today and dressed him in scarlet.
He'll put the priest in his pocket, put the blade to the heat,
Take the motherless children off the street
And place them at the feet of a harlot.
Oh, Jokerman, you know what he wants,
Oh, Jokerman, you don't show any response.
Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune,
Bird fly high by the light of the moon,
Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.
02 Sweetheart Like You (04:35)
Well, the pressure's down, the boss ain't here,
He gone North, for a while,
They say that vanity got the best of him
But he sure left here in style.
By the way, that's a cute hat,
And a smile so hard to resist
What's a sweetheart like you doin' in a dump like this?
You know, I once knew a woman who looked like you,
She wanted a whole man, not just a half,
She used to call me sweet daddy when I was only a child,
You kind of remind me of her when you laugh.
In order to deal in this game, got to make the queen disappear,
It's done with a flick of the wrist.
What's a sweetheart like you doin' in a dump like this?
You know, a woman like you should be at home,
That's where you belong,
Taking care of somebody nice,
Who don't know how to do you wrong.
Just how much abuse will you be able to take?
Well, there's no way to tell by that first kiss.
What's a sweetheart like you doin' in a dump like this?
You know you can make a name for yourself,
You can hear them tires squeal,
You could be known as the most beautiful woman
Who ever crawled across cut glass to make a deal.
You know, news of you has come down the line
Even before ya came in the door.
They say in your father's house, there's many mansions
Each one of them got a fireproof floor.
Snap out of it, baby, people are jealous of you,
They smile to your face, but behind your back they hiss.
What's a sweetheart like you doin' in a dump like this?
Got to be an important person to be in here, honey,
Got to have done some evil deed,
Got to have your own harem when you come in the door,
Got to play your harp until your lips bleed.
They say that patriotism is the last refuge
To which a scoundrel clings.
Steal a little and they throw you in jail,
Steal a lot and they make you king.
There's only one step down from here, baby,
It's called the land of permanent bliss.
What's a sweetheart like you doin' in a dump like this?
03 Neighborhood Bully (04:37)
Well, the neighborhood bully, he's just one man,
His enemies say he's on their land.
They got him outnumbered about a million to one,
He got no place to escape to, no place to run.
He's the neighborhood bully.
The neighborhood bully he just lives to survive,
He's criticized and condemned for being alive.
Not supposed to fight back, and have thick skin,
Supposed to lay down and die when his door is kicked in.
He's the neighborhood bully.
Neighborhood bully been driven out of every land,
He's wandered the earth an exiled man.
Seen his family scattered, his people hounded and torn,
He's always on trial for just being born.
He's the neighborhood bully.
Well, he knocked out a lynch mob, he was criticized,
Old women condemned him, said he should apologize.
Then he destroyed a bomb factory, nobody was glad.
The bombs were meant for him.
He was supposed to feel bad.
He's the neighborhood bully.
Well, the chances are against it and the odds are slim
That he'll live by the rules that the world makes for him,
There's a noose at his neck and a gun at his back
And a license to kill him given out to every maniac.
He's the neighborhood bully.
Well he got no allies to really speak of.
What he gets he must pay for, he don't get it out of love.
He buys obsolete weapons and he won't be denied
But no one sends flesh and blood to fight by his side.
He's the neighborhood bully.
Well, he's surrounded by pacifists who all want peace,
They pray for it nightly that the bloodshed will cease.
Now, they wouldn't hurt a fly.
To hurt one they would weep.
They lay and they wait for this bully to fall asleep.
He's the neighborhood bully.
Every empire that's enslaved him is gone,
Egypt and Rome, even the great Babylon.
He's made a garden of paradise in the desert sand,
In bed with nobody, under no one's command.
He's the neighborhood bully.
Now his holiest books have been trampled upon,
No contract he signed was worth what it was written on.
He took the crumbs of the world and he turned it into wealth,
Took sickness and disease and he turned it into health.
He's the neighborhood bully.
What's anybody indebted to him for?
Nothin', they say.
He just likes to cause war.
His pride and prejudice his superstition indeed,
They wait for this bully like a dog waits to feed.
He's the neighborhood bully.
What has he done to wear so many scars?
Does he change the course of rivers?
Does he pollute the moon and stars?
Neighborhood bully, standing on the hill,
Running out the clock, time standing still,
Neighborhood bully.
06 Union Sundown (05:25)
Well, my shoes, they come from Singapore,
My flashlight's from Taiwan,
My tablecloth's from Malaysia,
My belt buckle's from the Amazon.
You know, this shirt I wear comes from the Philippines
And the car I drive is a Chevrolet,
It was put together down in Argentina
By a guy makin' thirty cents a day.
Well, it's sundown on the union
And what's made in the U.S.A.
Sure was a good idea
'Til greed got in the way.
Well, this silk dress is from Hong Kong
And the pearls are from Japan.
Well, the dog collar's from India
And the flower pot's from Pakistan.
All the furniture, it says "Made in Brazil"
Where a woman, she slaved for sure
Bringin' home thirty cents a day to a family of twelve,
You know, that's a lot of money to her.
Well, it's sundown on the union
And what's made in the U.S.A.
Sure was a good idea
'Til greed got in the way.
Well, you know, lots of people complainin' that there is no work.
I say, "Why you say that for
When nothin' you got is U.S.-made?"
They don't make nothin' here no more,
You know, capitalism is above the law.
It say, "It don't count 'less it sells."
When it costs too much to build it at home
You just build it cheaper someplace else.
Well, it's sundown on the union
And what's made in the U.S.A.
Sure was a good idea
'Til greed got in the way.
Well, the job that you used to have,
They give it to somebody down in El Salvador.
The unions are big business, friend,
And they're goin' out like a dinosaur.
Well they used to grow food in Kansas
Now they want to grow it on the moon and eat it raw.
I can see the day coming when even your home garden
Is gonna be against the law.
Well, it's sundown on the union
And what's made in the U.S.A.
Sure was a good idea
'Til greed got in the way.
Democracy don't rule the world,
You'd better get that in your head.
This world is ruled by violence
But I guess that's better left unsaid.
From Broadway to the Milky Way,
That's a lot of territory indeed
And a man's gonna do what he has to do
When he's got a hungry mouth to feed.
Well, it's sundown on the union
And what's made in the U.S.A.
Sure was a good idea
'Til greed got in the way.
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Di ilsuonatorejones
Un ottimo album vittima di bizzarre scelte di track list.
Che album avremmo potuto avere senza 'Union Sundown' e 'Don’t Fall Apart On Me' ma con le altre gemme? Sarebbe stato un disco degno di 'Highway 61' o 'Desire'!
