Chi ha letto il bellissimo romanzo di John Steinbeck da noi tradotto come "Furore", pietra miliare della letteratura americana, ha perso le tracce del fantasma di Tom Joad negli anni '30, ai tempi della Grande Depressione. Lo ha perso di vista mentre vagava, non si sa se morto o vivo, intorno ad uno degli squallidi accampamenti di carovane dove i disgraziati d'America di allora, gli "okies" provenienti dall'Oklahoma e da altre terre rese sterili dalle coltivazioni intensive, si accalcavano alla disperata ricerca di un lavoro da schiavi, pur di sopravvivere nella Terra Promessa Californiana. Le teste appena un po' più calde, come il nostro Tom Joad, alla prima rissa finivano nel mirino della polizia, specie se la causa era la legittima e sacrosanta difesa contro i soprusi degli sfruttatori. In tal modo perdevano anche la speranza di essere reclutati come raccoglitori di pesche, di cotone o di qulasiasi altra merce, diventando così veri e propri fantasmi viventi.
Nel 1995, in pieno Ottimismo Clintoniano, Bruce Springsteen gettò un bel sasso nello stagno di un'America intorpidita dal proprio presunto benessere, cantando che il fantasma di Tom Joad dopo più di sessant'anni non aveva ancora trovato pace, ma si aggirava intorno agli accampamenti odierni, lungo le autostrade, dove "le famiglie dormono nelle loro macchine nel Sudovest... niente casa niente lavoro niente pace niente riposo". Per meglio lanciare questo monito tornò alle radici musicali della sua terra, riprendendo lo scarno ed essenziale stile country che molti anni prima aveva dato come frutto l'ottimo "Nebraska", ma aggiungendo qua e là cupe tonalità di basso o spettrali effetti di tastiere, che nei brani più riusciti danno il senso concreto della tragedia descritta, quella dell'America che non esiste, che non risulta nelle statistiche. Ciò che è venuto fuori non è uno dei capolavori del Boss, ma merita attenzione e rispetto se non altro per il coraggio di trattare argomenti impopolari e per l'ostinata contrapposizione alle mode dell'epoca, che poi sono le stesse di ora.
Le ballate che catturano anche l'orecchio non sono molte e si concentrano più che altro all'inizio: The Ghost Of Tom Joad è da pelle d'oca a prescindere dal testo, Youngstown è fatta di potenza e fuoco come la fonderia "Jenny", ormai chiusa, che è la vera protagonista, Straight Time e Highway 29 hanno toni più pacati che contrastano con le crude vicende dei disperati protagonisti, uno appena uscito di prigione e costretto a rigare dritto, l'altro in fuga verso il Messico dopo una rapina.
Il confine, una linea maledetta e sfuggente che impedisce la libertà o la felicità agognata, è un tema ricorrente. Lo varca la bella messicana Louisa, con la compiacenza del poliziotto di frontiera di The Line, che ne è innamorato. Immagina di varcarlo, in senso inverso, il povero sognatore che nella splendida Across The Line intravede la sua felicità al di là, nelle acque fangose del Rio Bravo.
Se la musica a tratti tende ad appiattirsi su un country un po' standard, in compenso le storie sono sempre coinvolgenti, i personaggi sono tragici Tom Joad, dai contorni tremendamente reali. In "The Ghost Of Tom Joad" Springsteen riserva le parole più significative proprio a lui, a Tom: "Mamma, dovunque c'è un poliziotto che picchia un ragazzo, dovunque c'è un neonato affamato che piange, dove c'è una lotta contro il sangue e l'odio nell'aria, cercami mamma, io sarò lì. Dovunque c'è qualcuno che combatte per un posto in cui stare o per un lavoro decente o per una mano d'aiuto, dovunque qualcuno lotta per ottenere la libertà, guarda nei loro occhi, mamma, e vedrai me". Tom Joad il 2 novembre non ha votato né l'ottuso militarismo di Bush, né il progressismo da salotto di Kerry, ma ha continuato a vagare per le strade americane, e continuerà ancora, finché qualcuno non si accorgerà di lui.
Elenco tracce testi e video
01 The Ghost of Tom Joad (04:27)
Men walking along the railroad tracks
Going someplace there's no going back
Highway patrol choppers coming up over the ridge
Hot soup on a campfire under the bridge
Shelter line stretching round the corner
Welcome to the new world order
Families sleeping in their cars in the southwest
No home no job no peace no rest
The highway is alive tonight
But nobody's kiddin' nobody about where it goes
I'm sittin' down here in the campfire light
Searching for the ghost of Tom Joad
He pulls prayer book out of his sleeping bag
Preacher lights up a butt and takes a drag
Waiting for when the last shall be first and the first shall be last
In a cardboard box neath the underpass
Got a one-way ticket to the promised land
You got a hole in your belly and gun in your hand
Sleeping on a pillow of solid rock
Bathing in the city aqueduct
The highway is alive tonight
But where it's headed everybody knows
I'm sitting down here in the campfire light
Waiting on the ghost of Tom Joad
Tom said "Mom, wherever there's a cop beating a guy
Wherever a hungry newborn baby cries
Where there's a fight against the blood and hatred in the air
Look for me Mom I'll be there
Wherever there's somebody fighting for a place to stand
Or decent job or a helping hand
Wherever somebody's struggling to be free
Look in their eyes Mom you'll see me."
The highway is alive tonight
But nobody's kidding nobody about where it goes
I'm sitting down here in the campfire light
With the ghost of old Tom Joad
04 Youngstown (03:57)
Here in northeast Ohio
Back in eighteen-o-three
James and Danny Heaton
Found the ore that was linin' Yellow Creek
They built a blast furnace
Here along the shore
And they made the cannonballs
That helped the Union win the war
Here in Youngstown
Here in Youngstown
My sweet Jenny I'm sinkin' down
Here darlin' in Youngstown
Well my daddy worked the furnaces
Kept 'em hotter than hell
I come home from 'Nam worked my way to scarfer
A job that'd suit the devil as well
Taconite coke and limestone
Fed my children and make my pay
Them smokestacks reachin' like the arms of God
Into a beautiful sky of soot and clay
Here in Youngstown
Here in Youngstown
Sweet Jenny I'm sinkin' down
Here darlin' in Youngstown
Well my daddy come on the Ohio works
When he come home from World War Two
Now the yard's just scrap and rubble
He said "Them big boys did what Hitler couldn't do."
These mills they built the tanks and bombs
That won this country's wars
We sent our sons to Korea and Vietnam
Now we're wondering what they were dyin' for
Here in Youngstown
Here in Youngstown
My sweet Jenny I'm sinkin' down
Here darlin' in Youngstown
From the Monongahela valley
To the Mesabi iron range
To the coal mines of Appalachia
The story's always the same
Seven hundred tons of metal a day
Now sir you tell me the world's changed
Once I made you rich enough
Rich enough to forget my name
And Youngstown
And Youngstown
My sweet Jenny I'm sinkin' down
Here darlin' in Youngstown
When I die I don't want no part of heaven
I would not do heaven's work well
I pray the devil comes and takes me
To stand in the fiery furnaces of hell
06 The Line (05:19)
I got my discharge from Fort Irwin
Took place on the San Diego county line
Felt funny bein' a civilian again
It'd been some time
My wife had died a year ago
I was still tryin' to find my way back whole
Went to work for the INS on the line
With the California border patrol
Bobby Ramirez was a ten-year veteran
We became friends
His family was from Guanajuato
So the job it was different for him
He said "They risk death in the deserts and mountains
Pay all they got to the smugglers rings
We send 'em home and they come right back again
Carl hunger is a powerful thing"
Well I was good at doin' what I was told
Kept my uniform pressed and clean
At night I chased their shadows
Through the arroyos and ravines
Drug runners farmers with their families
Young women with little children by their sides
Come night we'd wait out in the canyons
And try to keep 'em from crossin' the line
Well the first time I saw her
She was in the holdin' pen
Our eyes met and she looked away
Then she looked back again
Her hair was black as coal
Her eyes reminded me of what I'd lost
She had a young child cryin' in her arms
I asked "Señora is there anything I can do?"
There's a bar in Tijuana
Where me and Bobby drink alongside
The same people we'd sent back the day before
She said her name was Louisa
She was from Sonora and had just come north
We danced and I held her in my arms
And I knew what I would do
She said she had some family in Madera county
If she, her child and younger brother could just get through
At night they come across the levee
In the searchlight's dusty glow
We'd rush 'em in our Broncos
Force 'em back down into the river below
She climbed into my truck
She leaned toward me and we kissed
As we drove her brother's shirt slipped open
And I saw the tape across his chest
We were just about on the highway
When Bobby's jeep come up in the dust on my right
I pulled over and let my engine run
And I stepped out into his lights
I felt myself movin'
My gun restin' 'neath my hand
We stood there starin' at each other
As off through the arroyo she ran
Bobby Ramirez he never said nothin'
Six months later I left the line
I drifted to the central valley
And I took what work that I could find
At night i searched the local bars
And the migrant towns
Lookin' for my Louisa
With the back hair fallin' down
08 Dry Lightning (03:37)
Dry Lightning
I threw my robe on in the morning
Watched the ring on the stove turn red
Stared hypnotized into a cup of coffee
Pulled on my boots and made the bed
Screen door hangin� off it's hinges
Kept bangin� me awake all night
As I look out the window
The only thing in site
Is dry lightning on the horizon line
Just dry lightning and and you on my mind
I chased the heat of her blood
Like it was the holy grail
Descend beautiful spirit
Into the evening pale
Her appaloosa�s
Kickin� in the corral smelling rain
There's a low thunder rolling�cross the mesquite plain
But there's just dry lightning on the horizon line
It's just dry lightning and and you on my mind
I'd drive down to alvarado street
Where she'd dance to make ends meet
I'd spend the night over my gin
As she'd talk to her men
Well the piss yellow sun
Comes bringin� up the day
She said �ain't nobody can give nobody
What they really need anyway.�
Well you get so sick of the fightin�
You lose your fear of the end
But I can't lose your memory
And the sweet smell of your skin
And it's just dry lightning on the horizonline
Just dry lightning and and you on my mind
11 Galveston Bay (05:07)
Galveston Bay
For 15 years le bin sonfought side by side with the americans
In the mountains and deltas
Of vietnamin �75 saigon fell and he left his command
And brought his family to the promised land
Seabrook, texas and the small towns in the gulf of mexico
It was delta country and reminded him of home
He worked as a machinist, put his money away
And bought a shrimp boat with his cousin
And together they harvested galveston bay
In the mornin� �fore the sun come up
He'd kiss his sleepin� daughter
Steer out thru thechannel
And cast his nets into the water
Billy sutter fought with charlie company
In the highlands of quang tri
He was wounded in the battle of chu lai
Shipped home in �68
There he married and worked the gulf fishing grounds
In a boat that'd been his father�s
In the morning he'd kiss his sleeping son
And cast his nets into the water
Billy sat in front of his tv as the south fell
And the communists rolled into saigon
He and his friends watched as the refugees came
Settled on the same streets and worked the coast they'd grew up on
Soon in the bars around the harbor was talk
Of america for the americans
Someone said �you want 'em out, you got to burn 'em out.�
And brought in the texas klan
One humid texas night there were 3 shadows on the harbor
Come to burn the vietnamese into the sea
In the fire�s light shots rang out
2 texans lay dead on the ground
Le stood with a pistol in his hand
A jury acquitted him in self-defense
As before the judge he did stand
But as le walked down the courthouse steps
Billy said �my friend you're a dead man.�
One late summer night le stood watch along the waterside
Billy stood in the shadows
His k-bar knife in his hand
And the moon slipped behind the clouds
Le lit a cigarette, the bay was still as glass
As he walked by billy stuck his knife into his pocket
Took a breath and let him pass
In the early darkness billy rose up
Went into the kitchen for a drink of water
Kissed his sleeping wife
Headed into the channel
And cast his nets into the water
Of galveston bay
12 My Best Was Never Good Enough (02:00)
My Best Was Never Good Enough
�every cloud has a silver lining, every dog has his day.
�she said �now don't say nothin�
If you don't have something nice to say
The tough now they get going when the going gets
Tough.�
But for you my best was never good enough
�now don't try for a home run baby
If you can get the job done with a hit
Remember a quitter never wins
And a winner never quits
The sun don't shine on a sleepin� dog�s ass.�
And all the rest of that stuff
But for you my best was never good enough
�if God gives you nothin� but lemons then you make some lemonade
The early bird catches the fuckin� worm,=20
Rome wasn't built in a day
Now life�s like a box of chocolatesyou never know what you're going to get
Stupid is as stupid does� and the rest of that shit
Come on pretty baby call my bluff
'cause for you my best was never good enough
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Altre recensioni
Di carmineman
"The Ghost of Tom Joad è un lucido camminare con l’occhio di un uomo che vive in mezzo agli altri e che fotografa l’amara realtà della vita."
"Il disco è un tornare sulla strada, senza nessuna corsa verso qualcosa, un riscatto per se stesso e per chi ha creduto nella sua onestà artistica."
Di theacrobat
Il Paradiso può attendere: stufi di stare al verde, stufi di rigare dritto, “con un buco nello stomaco e in mano una pistola”.
Aspettando il momento in cui gli ultimi saranno i primi e i primi saranno gli ultimi.
