• Versione 1 Voto:
Gli errori si possono forse perdonare, ma non dimenticare. E questo si chiama rimpianto.
Oppure si possono forse dimenticare, ma non perdonare. E questo si chiama rimorso.
Non ho mai visto suonare dal vivo Warren Zevon. E questo è per me un ENORME rimpianto, conscio come sono che a ciò non esisterà mai rimedio, perchè purtroppo (e son già otto anni, che mi paiono ottanta) "...anche la Speme, ultima dea, fugge i sepolcri". Ma è soprattutto un TERRIBILE rimorso. Ho visto concerti a pacchi di: strafamosi, famosi, mediamente noti, oscuri, oscurissimi, non rintracciabili dal sonar. Per alcuni di questi ho percorso pure svariate centinaia di chilometri, ma tanti, forse troppi, non hanno lasciato traccia alcuna, dimenticabili e dimenticati. Potessi, li metterei assieme tutti, ce ne aggiungerei come mancia un bel tot di belli, un paio magari di bellissimi e pure la medaglietta d'oro della prima comunione in cambio della possibilità di vederne uno solo di Warren Zevon.
[Inciso: per me Warren Zevon sta al rock come Sam Peckimpah al cinema, o Cormac McCarthy alla letteratura. Lui e pochi altri (pochissimi, quasi nessuno) è riuscito a soddisfare la mia sete di un rock che sappia essere assieme spettacolo e riflessione, plot e piacere della scrittura, pensiero e azione, pancia e cervello, muscoli e cuore. Lui (forse solo lui) è stato in grado, nel bel mezzo di una strofa rotonda o di un ritornello ben congegnato, con una chitarra affilata e una cassa banalmente in quattro, di tratteggiare figure memorabili della comédie humaine di ogni tempo e luogo: fuorilegge e cowboys del vecchio West, mercenari senza scrupoli, proletari chicani, lupi mannari urbani, doppizeri tossicomani, addirittura tormentati pugili-filosofi. Uno che in tre righe ti sbozzava con la medesima facilità ed efficacia quadretti "sociali" ("Portate avvocati, pistole e soldi / la merda è arrivata al ventilatore..."), oppure "personali" ("Stanno tutti in guerra al giorno d'oggi / Facciamo una piccola tregua / Ho bisogno di un po' di igiene sentimentale"). Rose che sbocciavano nel deserto. Così improvvisamente, così semplicemente. Fine dell'inciso].
Perciò, lasciando da parte per un attimo rimpianti e rimorsi e chiudendo gli occhi, ogni tanto DEVO far girare questo suo disco dal vivo del 1981, compendio di cinque spettacoli in cinque giorni tenutisi nella sua odiamata Los Angeles. Dire goduria somma è dire poco, con il poeta che si traveste da animale da palconoscenico per sorprenderci una volta di più. Perfino le sue ballatone voce e piano su cui ha costruito buona parte del suo monumento, quelle col cuore in mano e gli stivali texani impolverati, ottengono un surplus di emozione e ancora non ci si crede. In sostanza tutte le sue canzoni migliori, capolavori tra i capolavori da quei primi tre album (in realtà, quattro, perchè esisterebbe pure la falsa partenza dell'esordio del 1970 "Wanted: Dead or Alive", ma presto consegnato da tutti, autore compreso, al dimenticatoio) più un paio allora mai editate qui dentro cessano di essere bellissime ragazze con l'occhialetto intellettuale che ti fanno girare la testa in biblioteca, viceversa si mettono su da sera, trucco pesante e tacchi alti, meravigliose e ancheggianti puttane da una notte che non devono fare troppo sforzo per adescarti. Quello che perdono in intimismo se lo riprendono con i dividendi in muscolarità, accelerate da una batteria metronomica e pestona, da un piano boogie a rullo compressore, tutte impreziosite dall'amalgama di una band sontuosa su cui spiccano le svisate, da orgasmo, all'elettrica di David Landau. Poco o nulla qui di Dylan, Waits o dell'amicone Jackson Browne (beninteso, quello migliore). Invece, un po' di Reed, molto Springsteen (beninteso, quello migliore, quello che all'epoca stava sul palco anche cinque ore filate) e moltissimo Jim Carrol. E se cover dev'essere, allora che sia la fondamentale rozzezza di un Bo Diddley. Distillato di rock. Essenza di rock. Di quello che più invecchia e più è buono, perchè NON invecchia. Di quello che è al tempo stesso fuga in macchina a 200 miglia alla Kowalski o discesa nei bassifondi con Marlon Brando, il Jack Daniel's e le Lucky Strike. E soprattutto è sesso a (almeno) due con chiunque volete voi. Valga per tutte questa qui, solo e sempre 5 milioni di stellette a lei e a Zevon, perchè ancora oggi al milionesimo ascolto riesce a farmi sentire un ragazzo eccitabile.
Tutto il resto è masturbazione.
Forse il tuo manager non te l'ha comunicato, Warren, ma domani sera ti avrebbe organizzato un concerto. A casa mia.
Elenco tracce e testi
02 Jeannie Needs a Shooter (04:11)
written by Bruce Springsteen and Warren Zevon 1980 Zevon Music BMI and Bruce Springsteen ASCAP
I was born down by the river where the dirty water flows
And the cold wind cut through me, it cut right through my clothes
And the anger and the yearning, like fever in my veins
Set the fire burning
She came down from Knightstown with her hands hard from the line
From the first time I laid eyes on her
I knew that she'd be mine
Her father was a lawman, he swore he'd shoot me dead
'Cause he knew I wanted Jeannie and I'd have her like I said
Jeannie needs a shooter
Shooter like me
Jeannie needs a shooter
Shooter on her side
Jeannie needs a shooter
We met down by the river, on the final day in May
And when I leaned down to kiss her, she did not turn away
I drew out all my money and together we did vow
To leave that very evening and get away somehow
Jeannie needs a shooter
Shooter like me
Jeannie needs a shooter
Shooter on her side
Jeannie needs a shooter
The night was cold and rainy down by the borderline
I was riding hard to meet her when a shot rang out behind
As I lay there in the darkness with a pistol by my side
Jeannie and her father rode off into the night
Jeannie needs a shooter
03 Excitable Boy (04:03)
Written By Warren Zevon & LeRoy P. Marinell
c. 1976 Zevon Music/BMI and Polite Music/ASCAP
Well, he went down to dinner in his Sunday best
Excitable boy, they all said
And he rubbed the pot roast all over his chest
Excitable boy, they all said
He took in the four a.m. show at the Clark
Excitable boy, they all said
And he bit the usherette's leg in the dark
Excitable boy, they all said
Well, he's just an excitable boy
He took little Suzie to the Junior Prom
Excitable boy, they all said
And he raped her and killed her, then he took her home
Excitable boy, they all said
Well, he's just an excitable boy
After ten long years they let him out of the home
Excitable boy, they all said
And he dug up her grave and built a cage with her bones
Excitable boy, they all said
Well, he's just an excitable boy
04 Mohammed's Radio (04:50)
written by Warren Zevon 1976 Zevon Music BMI
Everybody's restless and they've got no place to go
Someone's always trying to tell them
Something they already know
So their anger and resentment flow
But don't it make you want to rock and roll
All night long
Mohammed's Radio
I heard somebody singing sweet and soulful
On the radio, Mohammed's Radio
You know, the Sheriff's got his problems too
He will surely take them out on you
In walked the village idiot and his face was all aglow
He's been up all night listening to Mohammed's Radio
Don't it make you want to rock and roll
All night long
Mohammed's Radio
I heard somebody singing sweet and soulful
On the radio, Mohammed's Radio
Everybody's desperate trying to make ends meet
Work all day, still can't pay the price of gasoline and meat
Alas, their lives are incomplete
Don't it make you want to rock and roll
All night long Mohammed's Radio
I heard somebody singing sweet and soulful
On the radio, Mohammed's Radio
You've been up all night listening for his drum
Hoping that the righteous might just might just might just come
I heard the General whisper to his aide-de-camp
"Be watchful for Mohammed's lamp"
Don't it make you want to rock and roll
All night long Mohammed's Radio
05 Werewolves of London (04:59)
I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand
Walking through the streets of SoHo in the rain
He was looking for the place called Lee Ho Fooks
For to get a big dish of beef chow mein
Refrain:
Ah-wooo, Werewolves of London
Ah-wooo
(x2)
You hear him howling around your kitchen door
Better not let him in
Little old lady got mutilated late last night
Werewolves of London again
(Refrain)
Hunh!
He's the hairy-handed gent
Who ran amok in Kent
Lately he's been overheard in Mayfair
You better stay away from him
He'll rip your lungs out, Jim
Hunh, I'd like to meet his tailor
(Refrain)
I saw Lon Chaney walking with the Queen
Doin' the Werewolves of London
I saw Lon Chaney Jr. walking with the Queen
Doin' the Werewolves of London
I saw a werewolf drinkin' a pina colada at Trader Vic's
His hair was perfect...hinh!
Ah-wooo
Werewolves of London
Hunh, draw blood
Ah-wooo
Werewolves of London
06 Lawyers, Guns and Money (03:58)
Written By Warren Zevon
c. 1978 Zevon Music/BMI
I went home with the waitress
The way I always do
How was I to know
She was with the
Russians, too?
I was gambling in Havana
I took a little risk
Send lawyers, guns and money
Dad, get me out of this hyeah
I'm the innocent bystander
Somehow I got stuck
Between the rock
and a hard place
And I'm down on my luck
Yes I'm down on my luck
Well I'm down on my luck
I'm hiding in Honduras
I'm a desperate man
Send lawyers, guns and money
The shit has hit the fan
All right
Send lawyers, guns and money
Huh!
Uh...
Send lawyers, guns and money
Uhh!
Send lawyers, guns and money
Hyah!
Send lawyers, guns and money
Ooh!
Yeah!
Yeah
Yeah...
Uh!
08 Poor Poor Pitiful Me (04:18)
I'd lay my head on the railroad tracks
And wait for the Double "E"
But the railroad don't run no more
Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
These young girls won't let me be
Lord have mercy on me
Woe is me
Well, I met a girl in West Hollywood
I ain't naming names
She really worked me over good
She was just like Jesse James
She really worked me over good
She was a credit to her gender
She put me through some changes, Lord
Sort of like a Waring blender
Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
These young girls won't let me be
Lord have mercy on me
Woe is me
Well, I met a girl at the Rainbow bar
She asked me if I'd beat her
She took me back to the Hyatt House
I don't want to talk about it
Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
These young girls won't let me be
Lord have mercy on me
Woe is me
(Well, I met a girl from the Vieux Carre`
Down in Yokahama
She picked me up and she throwed me down
I said, "Please don't hurt me, Mama")
09 I'll Sleep When I'm Dead (04:46)
written by Warren Zevon 1976 Zevon Music BMI
(note from Zevonfan1--I greatly prefer the alternate reading of "And I DON'T intend to use it on myself")
So much to do, there's plenty on the farm
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Saturday night I like to raise a little harm
I'll sleep when I'm dead
I'm drinking heartbreak motor oil and Bombay gin
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Straight from the bottle, twisted again
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Well, I take this medicine as prescribed
I'll sleep when I'm dead
It don't matter if I get a little tired
I'll sleep when I'm dead
I've got a .38 special up on the shelf
I'll sleep when I'm dead
If I start acting stupid
I'll shoot myself
I'll sleep when I'm dead
So much to do, there's plenty on the farm
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Saturday night I like to raise a little harm
I'll sleep when I'm dead
11 Johnny Strikes Up the Band (03:58)
Dry your eyes my little friend
Let me take you by the hand
Freddie get ready Rock steady
When Johnny strikes up the band
They'll be rocking in the projects
Walking down along the strand
Freddie get ready Rock steady
When Johnny strikes up the band
Johnny strikes up the band
When Johnny strikes up the ...
When Johnny strikes up the ...
When Johnny strikes up the band
And Johnny is my main man
He's the keeper of the keys
He'll put your mind at ease
He's guaranteed to please
Back by popular demand
Look around, my little friend
Jubilation in the land
Freddie get ready Rock steady
When Johnny strikes up the band
Johnny strikes up the band
When Johnny strikes up the ...
When Johnny strikes up the ...
When Johnny strikes up the band
13 Frank and Jesse James (04:27)
Written By Warren Zevon
published by Warner-Tamerlane/Darkroom Music BMI, 1973
On a small Missouri farm
Back when the west was young
Two boys learned to rope and ride
And be handy with a gun
War broke out between the states
And they joined up with Quantrill
And it was over in Clay county
That Frank and Jesse finally learned to kill
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Frank and Jesse James
Keep on riding, riding, riding
'Til you clear your names
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Across the rivers and the range
Keep on riding, riding, riding Frank and Jesse James
After Appomattox they were on the loosing side
So no amnesty was granted
And as outlaws they did ride
They rode against the railroads,
And they rode against the banks
And they rode against the governor
Never did they ask for a word of thanks
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Frank and Jesse James
Keep on riding, riding, riding
'Til you clear your names
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Across the prairies and the plains
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Frank and Jesse James
Robert Ford, a gunman
Did exchange for his parole
Took the life of James the outlaw
Which he snuck up on and stole
No one knows just where they came to be misunderstood
But the poor Missouri farmers knew
Frank and Jesse do the best they could
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Frank and Jesse James
Keep on riding, riding, riding
'Til you clear your names
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Across the rivers and the range
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Frank and Jesse James
14 Hasten Down the Wind (04:33)
(Warren Zevon)
She tells him she thinks she needs to be free
He tells her he doesn't understand
She takes his hand
She tells him nothing's working out the way they planned
She's so many women
He can't find the one who was his friend
So he's hanging on to half her heart
He can't have the restless part
So he tells her to hasten down the wind
Then he agrees he thinks she needs to be free
Then she says she'd rather be with him
But it's just a whim
By which she hopes to keep him on the limb
She's so many women
He can't find the one who was his friend
So he's hanging on to half her heart
He can't have the restless part
So he tells her to hasten down the wind
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