MarmaladeSkiesWebzine

BALL AND CHAIN (1968)

(Willie Mae "Big Mama" Thornton)

Sittin’ down by my window,
Honey, lookin’ out at the rain.
Oh, Lord, Lord, sittin’ down by my window,
Baby, lookin’ out at the rain.
Somethin’ came along, grabbed a hold of me, honey,
And it felt just like a ball and chain.
Honey, that’s exactly what it felt like,
Honey, just dragging me down.

And I say, oh, whoa, whoa, now hon’, tell me why,
Why does every single little tiny thing I hold on to go wrong?
Yeah it goes wrong, yeah.
And I say, oh, whoa, whoa, now babe, tell me why,
Hey, here you gone today, I wanted to love you,
I just wanted to hold you, I said, for so long,
Yeah! Alright! Hey!

Love’s got a hold on me, baby,
Feels like a ball and chain.
Now, love’s just draggin’ me down, baby,
Feels like a ball and chain.
I hope there’s someone out there who could tell me
Why the man I love wanna leave me in so much pain.
                 
And I say, oh, whoa, whoa, now hon’, tell me why,
Now tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me why,yeah.
And I say, oh, whoa, whoa, whoa, when I ask you,
When I need to know why, c’mon tell me why, hey hey hey,
Here you’ve gone today,
I wanted to love you and hold you
Till the day I die.
I said whoa, whoa, whoa!!

And I say oh, whoa, whoa, no honey
It ain’t fair, daddy it ain’t fair what you do,
I see what you’re doin’ to me and you know it ain’t fair.
And I say oh, whoa whoa now baby
It ain’t fair, now, now, now, what you do
I said hon’ it ain’t fair what, hon’ it ain’t fair what you do.
Oh, here you gone today and all I ever wanted to do
Was to love you
Honey you can still hear me rock and roll the best,
Only it ain’t roll, no, no, no, no, no.

Sittin’ down by my window,
Lookin’ out at the rain.
Lord, Lord, Lord, sittin’ down by my window,
Lookin’ out at the rain, see the rain.
Somethin’ came along, grabbed a hold of me,
And it felt like a ball and chain.
Oh this can’t be in vain
And I’m gonna tell you one more time, yeah, yeah!

And I say oh, whoa whoa, now baby
This can’t be, no this can’t be in vain,
And I say no no no no no no no no, whoa,
And I say whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Now now now now now now now now now no no not in vain
Hey, hope there is someone that could tell me
Hon’, tell me why love is like
Just like a ball
Just like a ball
Baaaaaaalllll
Oh daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy
And a chain.
Yeah.

ANT TRIP CEREMONY

24 HOURS (1968 Kann-A-Reck)

Direttamente da un buco nero spazio temporale... è da li’ che arriva questo lavoro, tanto affascinante quanto coperto da un totale alone di mistero. Band proveniente dall’Ohio, sconosciuta (ai piu’) già all’epoca, responsabile di questo unico lavoro (sembra con l’aiuto di David Crosby) introvabile nella sua edizione originale (non piu’ di 300 copie stampate). Il disco si snoda fra esercizi di stile jazzistico, folk-blues e schizzi di psichedelia con morbide digressioni, mai sopra le righe e che forse (con il senno di poi…) paga un po’ il passare del tempo, ma la versione di Hey Joe e soprattutto la mini-suite Elaborations rendono pienamente merito alla formazione di Roger Goodman, con la sua voce volutamente sommessa, ma ferma ed abrasiva nel dipanare le proprie litanie; costruite su tappeti “classici” di chitare-basso-batteria ed incursioni di armonica e flauto. E, se pure non sara’ il disco del secolo, è un’incredibile testimonianza del fervore artistico che girava nel periodo dell’Estate dell’Amore.

MANIC DEPRESSION (1967)

Manic depression is touching my soul
I know what I want but I just dont know
How to, go about gettin it
Feeling sweet feeling,
Drops from my fingers, fingers
Manic depression is catchin my soul

Woman so weary, the sweet cause in vain
You make love, you break love
Its all the same
When its, when its over, mama
Music, sweet music
I wish I could caress, caress, caress
Manic depression is a frustrating mess

Well, I think Ill go turn myself off,
And go on down
All the way down
Really aint no use in me hanging around
In your kinda scene

Music, sweet music
I wish I could caress, caress, caress
Manic depression is a frustrating mess

YABBA-DABBA-BUSH

Smog – Doctor Came At Dawn (1996 – Drag City)

Bill Callahan (unico responsabile e depositario dell’acronimo Smog) emerge sul finire degli anni 80 dal calderone musicale denominato “lo-fi”, anche se da subito la sua produzione si assesta su livelli stilistici molto piu’ raffinati ed intimisti, tanto da venire subito notato (e scritturato) dall’etichetta Drag City di Chigago (responsabile delle migliori menti della musica americana dei 90… Jim O’Rourke, tanto per fare un nome…). Nel 93 licenzia, con l’aiuto di Cynthia Dall e dello stesso O’Rourke) il suo indiscusso capolavoro, Julius Caesar. Ma ben presto torna a forme piu’ intimiste (e di conseguenza solitarie) che producono l’ottimo Wild Love del 1995 e questo Doctor Came At Dawn, a mio avviso la summa del Callahan pensiero. Costruito interamente sulla sua voce dimessa e sulla chitarra, con rarissime incursioni di pianoforte e violini, per terminare con Hangman Blues, per sola voce. Spesso accostato a grandi folk singer del passato (Leonar Cohen e Nick Drake su tutti), Smog ne ripercorre gli umori e le sensazioni, immergendone la natura nel tetro incedere di fine millennio, sradicando via anche il ben che minimo alone di speranza. Impedibile, per chiunque ami la solitudine delle strade deserte, la notte, nel tepore del primo autunno.

Bummer The Summer (1967)

Well i remember when you used to look so good
And i did everything that i possibly could for you
We used to ride around all over town
But they're puttin' you down for bein' around with me
But you can go ahead if you want to
'cause i ain't got no papers on you

In the middle of the summer i had a job bein' a plumber
Just to pass till the fall it was you i wanna ball all day
Ah-we were walkin' along, honey, hand in hand
I'm a-thinkin' of you, mama, when you're thinkin' of another man
But you can go ahead if you want to
'cause i ain't got no papers on you
(no, i don't i ain't got no papers on myself)

All alone on the bone when i didn't have a home
When i saw the way i was and i knew where i was supposed to be
I was twitchin' so i turned and it's really hard to learn
That everyone i saw was just another part of me
But you can go ahead if you want to
'cause nobody's got no papers on you
(no, babe, it's just a falsehood)

MONTEREY (1970)

Under a loop of stars in the vulgar cold
The dead airport lay
By the pebbles of the highway
Through the snail clouds
You soared to your lover
I hurried away my darling
With a howl in my throat.
Hiding inside the weeds
In the orange grove,
The black rooster crowed
Through the hollow of the midnight.

With my shot blood,
With stains on my fingers,
I run with the damned, my darling:
They have taught me to laugh