• Innocent When You Dream (Tom Waits)

    Somewhere in the United States (probably), in the late 80’s (maybe).

     

     

    This is a song my dad taught me when I was a kid.
    That’s a lie.
    This is a song I learned from some kids in the alley behind the theatre
    That’s a lie too.
    I learned this from Gregory Peck.
    That too is a lie.
    They’re all lies.
    The whole song is a lie.
    No it’s not.
    I learned this from Pavarotti…

    The bats are in the belfry
    The dew is on the moor
    Where are the arms that held me
    And pledged her love before
    And pledged her love before

    And it’s such a sad old feeling
    All the fields are soft and green
    It’s memories that I’m stealing
    But you’re innocent when you dream
    When you dream
    You’re innocent when you dream
    When you dream
    You’re innocent when you dream

    I made a golden promise
    That we would never part
    I gave my love a locket
    And then I broke her heart
    And then I broke her heart

    And it’s such a sad old feeling
    All of the fields are soft and green
    And it’s memories that I’m stealing
    But you’re innocent when you dream
    When you dream
    You’re innocent when you dream
    When you dream
    You’re innocent when you dream

    We’ve running through the graveyard
    And we laughed, my friends and I
    We swore we’d be together
    Until the day we died
    Until the day we died

    And it’s such a sad old feeling
    All of the fields are soft and green
    And it’s memories that I’m stealing
    But you’re innocent when you dream
    When you dream
    You’re innocent when you dream
    When you dream
    You’re innocent when you dream

    And it’s such a sad old feeling
    The fields are soft and green
    And it’s memories that I’m stealing
    But you’re innocent when you dream
    When you dream
    You’re innocent when you dream
    When you dream
    You’re innocent when you dream

    . . .

  • It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)

    Bob Dylan England Tour, May 1965

    (Traduction du texte en français : https://www.bobdylan-fr.com/trad/itsallrightma.html)

    Darkness at the break of noon
    Shadows even the silver spoon
    The handmade blade, the child’s balloon
    Eclipses both the sun and moon
    To understand you know too soon
    There is no sense in trying

    Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
    Suicide remarks are torn
    From the fool’s gold mouthpiece
    The hollow horn plays wasted words
    Proves to warn that he not busy being born
    Is busy dying

    Temptation’s page flies out the door
    You follow, find yourself at war
    Watch waterfalls of pity roar
    You feel to moan but unlike before
    You discover that you’d just be
    One more person crying
    So don’t fear if you hear
    A foreign sound to your ear
    It’s alright, Ma, I’m only sighing
    As some warn victory, some downfall
    Private reasons great or small
    Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
    To make all that should be killed to crawl
    While others say don’t hate nothing at all
    Except hatred
    Disillusioned words like bullets bark
    As human gods aim for their mark
    Made everything from toy guns that spark
    To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
    It’s easy to see without looking too far
    That not much is really sacred
    While preachers preach of evil fates
    Teachers teach that knowledge waits
    Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
    Goodness hides behind its gates
    But even the president of the United States
    Sometimes must have to stand naked
    An’ though the rules of the road have been lodged
    It’s only people’s games that you got to dodge
    And it’s alright, Ma, I can make it
    Advertising signs that con you
    Into thinking you’re the one
    That can do what’s never been done
    That can win what’s never been won
    Meantime life outside goes on
    All around you

     

    You lose yourself, you reappear
    You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
    Alone you stand with nobody near
    When a trembling distant voice, unclear
    Startles your sleeping ears to hear
    That somebody thinks they really found you
    A question in your nerves is lit
    Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
    Insure you not to quit
    To keep it in your mind and not fergit
    That it is not he or she or them or it
    That you belong to
    Although the masters make the rules
    For the wise men and the fools
    I got nothing, Ma, to live up to
    For them that must obey authority
    That they do not respect in any degree
    Who despise their jobs, their destinies
    Speak jealously of them that are free
    Do what they do just to be nothing more than something they invest in
    While some on principles baptized
    To strict party platform ties
    Social clubs in drag disguise
    Outsiders they can freely criticize
    Tell nothing except who to idolize
    And then say God bless him
    While one who sings with his tongue on fire
    Gargles in the rat race choir
    Bent out of shape from society’s pliers
    Cares not to come up any higher
    But rather get you down in the hole that he’s in
    But I mean no harm nor put fault
    On anyone that lives in a vault
    But it’s alright, Ma, if I can’t please him
    Old lady judges watch people in pairs
    Limited in sex, they dare
    To push fake morals, insult and stare
    While money doesn’t talk, it swears
    Obscenity, who really cares
    Propaganda, all is phony
    While them that defend what they cannot see
    With a killer’s pride, security
    It blows the minds most bitterly
    For them that think death’s honesty
    Won’t fall upon them naturally
    Life sometimes must get lonely
    My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
    False gods, I scuff
    At pettiness which plays so rough
    Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
    Kick my legs to crash it off
    Say okay, I have had enough
    What else can you show me
    And if my thought-dreams could be seen
    They’d probably put my head in a guillotine
    But it’s alright, Ma, it’s life, and life only

    . . .

  • Alberta Hunter sings the blues

    Alberta Hunter a commencé sa carrière de chanteuse dans les années 20. En 1922, elle écrit « Downhearted Blues » dont Bessie Smith fera un énorme succès l’année suivante. Elle enregistre beaucoup dans les années 20 et 30 puis disparaît petit à petit de la scène avant de se retirer définitivement dans les années 50. Elle sera infirmière pendant plus de 20 ans et ne reprendra la chanson qu’à la fin des années 70 quand l’hôpital où elle travaillait l’obligera à prendre sa retraite!

    La vidéo qui suit est tirée de « Jazz at the Smithsonian : Alberta Hunter (1982) », elle avait alors 87 ans. Elle est accompagnée de Gerald Cook au piano et Jimmy Lewis à la contrebasse et interprète le génial « Nobody Knows You When You’re Down and Out » de Jimmy Cox.

    Nobody Knows You When You’re Down and Out (Alberta Hunter change une bonne partie des paroles originales…) :

    I once lived the life of a millionaire
    Spending my money I didn’t care
    Always taking my friends out for a good time
    Buying champagne, gin and wine
    But just as soon as my dough got low
    I couldn’t find a friend, no place I go
    If I ever get my hands on a dollar again
    I’m gonna squeeze it, and squeeze it
    Till the eagle grins

     

    Nobody knows you when you’re down and out
    In your pocket, not one penny
    And your friends, you haven’t any
    And as soon as you get on your feet again
    Everybody is your long lost friend
    It’s mighty strange, without a doubt, but
    Nobody wants you when you’re down and out

    You know folks, I once had a mansion
    Way up on the side of a hill
    I’d give champagne and caviar parties
    Just for fun and get a thrill
    But you know things they just can’t stay like that forever
    And now I can’t muscle up enough money
    To buy a shot of gin

    But you know, if I ever get my hands on a dollar again
    I’m gonna squeeze it, and squeeze it till the eagle grins
    It’s mighty strange, without a doubt
    Nobody wants you
    Nobody needs you
    Nobody wants you when you’re down and out

    Alberta_Hunter

    . . .