"Love over gold" si sente rivestito dello stesso compito che era toccato a "Communiquè", vale a dire quello di confermare e ampliare il proprio predecessore. Questo perchè i Dire Straits con "Making movies" hanno aperto un nuova fase musicale della propria carriera, fase iniziata con il botto ma, appunto, bisognosa di certezze. E se "Communiquè", rispetto all'album d'esordio, aveva confermato troppo e ampilato poco, "Love over gold" porta vittoriosamente a termine la missione sparando soli cinque colpi. Pochi, precisi, mortali.
La linfa musicale che scorre attraverso il quarto lavoro dei Dire Straits conferma che il loro padre-padrone, lo schivo e pacato Mark Knopfler di Glasgow, ha raggiunto lo zenith della propria creatività artistica; il disco viene concepito in quel momento di libertà di cui un artista di successo gode appena dopo essere entrato nell'Olimpo ("Making movies") e appena prima di essere dichiarato immortale ("Brothers in arms"), con tutti i pro e i contro del caso. E' quel momento in cui gironzoli affascinato per le vie di una nuova città poco prima di abitarla in pianta stabile, scoprendone i problemi. Non sono molti gli artisti che sanno sfruttare questo attimo, non sono molti coloro che si rendono conto neanche di averlo a disposizione, ma Knopfler sì, e allora ecco un disco di poche tracce in cui non solo viene ripreso il discorso interrotto due anni prima ma viene arricchito tanto da sembrare quasi un altro, con nuovi vestiti e una pettinatura spiazzante.
Girando per le vie di quella città, ci si imbatte subito nel più imponente dei monumeti e si rimane a bocca aperta per quattordici minuti: "Telegraph road", signori, è il Colosseo di Knopfler, è la piazza Duomo dei Dire Straits, la tour Eiffel di "Love over gold". Si ha subito la sensazione che il disco sia stato studiato nota per nota vista l'accuratezza dei suoni e la perfetta danza di piano, chitarra e voce, che dominerà poi tutto il lavoro. Il continuo crescendo del pezzo innalza quel monumento di battuta in battuta, e già durante il primo assolo si capisce che sarà una delle enne meraviglie straitsiane. Dietro l'imponenza, la riservatezza: "Private investigations" è un bar accogliente che si trova appena usciti dalle vie del centro, un bar di solitudini, musicisti annoiati e ottimi drinks. L'azzardo di lanciarla come primo singolo del disco dopo che il pianeta aveva ancora nelle orecchie "Tunnel of love" ha del folle e tremendamente affascinante. Knopfler stupisce chi lo ascolta parlando una canzone che forse è l'espressione più sincera di quel cielo tempestoso raffigurato in copertina. Poi ci sono le frivolezze, le vie del centro con i giocolieri e le luci dei negozi zeppi di inutilità apparente e storie di gente, c'è "Industrial disease". La mamma di "Walk of life", e nonna di "Cannibals", racconta con fare giocoso uno dei testi più impegnati della carriera di Knopfler, un po' come le vetrine ricche di giocattoli nascondono dietro al bancone un uomo triste che sorride ai bambini. Sta lì in mezzo, "Industrial disease", quasi a concedere un intervallo tra un primo tempo tempestoso e un secondo più romantico. La title track infatti rappresenta una delle ballate più riuscite all'omino di Glasgow, che fonde assieme in modo incredibile la melodia con il testo tramite la figura della ballerina su ghiaccio ("..you're a dancer on thin ice.."), forse l'unica immagine che riesce ad esprimere il freddo gelido che circonda una canzone calda e rasserenante come "Love over gold", una pista di ghiaccio nel cuore della nostra città dove la gente, finito di pattinare, beve cioccolata e tea fumante.
"It never rains", a chiudere, è uno di quei pezzi da ascoltare quando tutto va a rotoli per via del bene che sprigiona: è una carezza sulla testa, è l'immagine di una donna vista piangere attraverso la finestra, con quelle "tears of a clown" sulle guance, donna che abbracceresti per il solo fatto che mentre si ascolta "yes and it's all that remains of the years spent doing that round..." non si può non voler bene a qualcuno. La seconda parte della canzone, da 3:53 in poi, diventa più aspra, distante, come disillusione, la fine di un sogno che la prima parte aveva regalato. L'assolo wahwah conclusivo riporta con i piedi per terra e chiude degnamente quello che è il capolavoro dei Dire Straits.
Del disco in questione avrebbe dovuto far parte anche "Private dancer", scritta da Knopfler e portata poi al successo da Tina Turner. Su questo punto, pare che Knopfler al momento di incidere il pezzo si fosse sentito a disagio a cantare un testo che aveva come protagonista una donna, e nella fattispecie una puttana. Ha quindi pensato a Tina Turner.
Elenco tracce testi e video
01 Telegraph Road (14:18)
A long time ago came a man on a track
Walking thirty miles with a sack on his back
And he put down his load where he thought it was the best
He made a home in the wilderness
He built a cabin and a winter store
And he ploughed up the ground by the cold lake shore
And the other travellers came riding down the track
And they never went further and they never went back
Then came the churches then came the schools
Then came the lawyers then came the rules
Then came the trains and the trucks with their loads
And the dirty old track was the telegraph road
Then came the mines - then came the ore
Then there was the hard times then there was a war
Telegraph sang a song about the world outside
Telegraph road got so deep and so wide
Like a rolling river...
And my radio says tonight it's gonna freeze
People driving home from the factories
There's six lanes of traffic
Three lanes moving slow...
I used to like to go to work but they shut it down
I've got a right to go to work but there's no work here to befound
Yes, and they say we're gonna have to pay what's owed
We're gonna have to reap from some seed that's been sowed
And the birds up on the wires and the telegraph poles
They can always fly away from this rain and this cold
You can hear them singing out their telegraph code
All the way down the telegraph road
You know I'd sooner forget but I remember those nights
When life was just a bet on a race between the lights
You had your hand on my shoulder you had your hand in my hair
Now you act a little colder like you don't seem to care...
But believe in me baby and I'll take you away
From out of this darkness and into the day
From these rivers of headlights these rivers of rain
From the anger that lives on these streets with these names
'Cos I've run every red light on memory lane
I've seen desperation explode into flames
And I don't wanna see it again...
From all of these signs saying sorry but we're closed
All the way down the telegraph road
02 Private Investigations (06:46)
It's a mystery to me ... the game commences
for the usual fee ... plus expenses
confidential information ... it's in a diary
This is my investigation ... it's not a public inquiry
I go checking out the reports ... digging up the dirt
you get to meet all sorts in this line of work
treachery and treason ... there's always an excuse for it
and when I find the reason I still can't get used to it
And what have you got at the end of the day?
what have you got to take away?
a bottle of whisky and a new set of lies
blinds on the windows and a pain behind the eyes
Scarred for life ... no compensation
private investigations
03 Industrial Disease (05:50)
Warning lights are flashing down at Quality Control
Somebody threw a spanner and they threw him in the hole
There's rumors in the loading bay and anger in the town
Somebody blew the whistle and the walls came down
There's a meeting in the boardroom they're trying to trace the smell
There's leaking in the washroom there's sneak in personnel
Somewhere in the corridors someone was heard to sneeze
'Goodness me could this be Industrial Disease?'
The caretaker was crucified for sleeping at his post
They're refusing to be pacified it's him they blame the most
The watchdog's got rabies the foreman's got the fleas
And everyone's concerned about Industrial Disease
There's panic on the swichboard tongues are ties in knots
Some come out in sympathy some come out in spots
Some blame the management some the employees
And everybody knows it's the Industrial Disease
The work force is disgusted downs tools and walks
Innocence is injured experience just talks
Everyone seeks damages and everyone agrees
That these are 'classic symptoms of a monetary squeeze'
On ITV and BBC they talk about the curse
Philosophy is useless; theology is worse
History boils over there's an economics freeze
Sociologists invent words that mean 'Industrial Disease'
Doctor Parkinson declared 'I'm not surprised to see you here
You've got smokers cough from smoking brewer's droop from drinking beer
I don't know how you came to get the Bette Davis knees
But worst of all young man you've got Industrial Disease'
He wrote me a prescription he said 'you are depressed
But I'm glad you came to see me to get this off your chest
Come back and see me later - next patient please
Send in another victim of Industrial Disease'
I go down to Speaker's Corner I'm thunderstruck
They got free speech, tourists, police in trucks
Two men say they're Jesus, one of them must be wrong
There's a protest singer singing a protest song - he says
'They wanna have a war to keep their factories
They wanna have a war to keep us on our knees
They wanna have a war to stop us buying Japanese
They wanna have a war to stop Industrial Disease
They're pointing out the enemy to keep you deaf and blind
They wanna sap your energy incarcerate your mind
They give you Rule Brittania, gassy beer, page three
Two weeks in Espana and Sunday striptease'
Meanwhile the first Jesus says 'I'll cure it soon
Abolish Monday mornings and Friday afternoons'
The other one's out on hunger striker he's dying by degrees
How come Jesus gets Industrial Disease?
05 It Never Rains (07:59)
I hear the seven deadly sins
And the terrible twins came to call on you
The bigger they are baby
The harder they fall on you
And you you're always the same
You persevere on the same old pleasure ground
Oh and it never rains around here
It just comes pouring down
You had no more volunteers
So you got profiteers for to help you out
Well, with friends like that babe
Good friends you had to do without
And now they've taken the chains and the gears
From off your merry-go-round
Oh and it never rains around here
It just comes pouring down
And your new Romeo
Was just a gigolo when he let you down
See the faster they are babe
The faster they get out of town
Leaving makeup stains and the tears of a clown
Yes and it never rains around here
It just comes pouring down
Oh you were just a roller coaster memory
I don't know why I was even passing through
I saw you making a date with destiny
Yeah, they came around here asking after you
In the shadow of the wheel of fortune
You're busy trying to clear your name
You say "I may be guilty yeah that may be true
"But I'd be lying if I said I was to blame"
See we could have been major contenders
We never got no money no breaks
You've got a list of all the major offenders
You got a list of all their major mistakes
And he's just standing in the shadows
Yes and you smile that come-on smile
Oh I can still hear you say as clear as the day
"I'd like to make it worth your while"
Oh, but it's a sad reminder
When your organ grinder has to come to you for rent
And all you've got to give him
Is the use of your side-show tent
Yes, and that's all that remains of the years
Spent doing the rounds
And it never rains around here
Well it just comes pouring down
Now you know what they say about beggars
You can't complain about the rules
You know what they say about beggars
You know who's the first to blame his tools
You never gave a damn about who you pick up
And leave laying bleeding on the ground
You screw people over on the way up
Because you thought that you were never coming down
And he takes you out in Vaudeville Valley
With his hand up smothering your screams
And he screws you down in Tin Pan Alley
In the city of a billion dreams
Carico i commenti... con calma
Altre recensioni
Di Torre Ste
"Isolatevi dal resto del mondo, mettetevi gli auricolari e tenete tra le mani un grande disco come Love Over Gold dei Dire Straits."
"I Dire Straits non sono capaci solo di essere romantici e allegri, ma anche molto cupi, capaci di scrivere melodie alla Pink Floyd."
Di claudio carpentieri
"Telegraph Road è la traccia più provocante, dove chitarre e tastiere si fondono magicamente in un tutt’uno nel finale."
"La title-track è una vera perla, una chitarra acustica che domina la scena con un’interpretazione vocale intensa e caliginosa."
Di Bromike
Knopfler è uno dei migliori strumentisti rock inglesi: tranquillamente sopra ai pur bravi Harrison, May, Richards ecc...
L'album dimostra una preparazione tecnica veramente eccezionale, con testi coraggiosi e di grande impatto.
