Os meus gatinhos estão quase a fazer um ano. Tanto o Gaspar como o Crespim têm tido uma vida muito saudável para a qual muito tem contribuído a Mia, que faz questão de os exercitar diariamente com brincadeiras que incluem a destruição de almofadas, telecomandos e seringas de insulina (depois explico). Mas hoje, o que me traz aqui (para além de Deus Nosso Senhor Jesus Cristo) é a curiosa relação que o Gaspar tem vindo desenvolver com uma gaivota (sim, é sempre a mesma - a minha credulidade é infinita) que tem por hábito apanhar sol no telhado da casa. Tudo começou há cerca de duas semanas. Estava no sótão a trabalhar, quando ouço um bater de asas seguido de uma grande barulheira. Viro a cabeça e, acto contínuo, vejo uma silhueta entrar à velocidade da luz através da janela (era o Gaspar). A partir desse dia, os dois têm jogado uma série muito divertida de partidas de xadrez em que o bluff do meu felino tenta (em vão) abalar a indiferença táctica da gaivota. A foto que podem ver foi tirada há cerca de meia-hora com o meu telemóvel, mas está visto que tenho aqui matéria que justifica a colocação de uma câmara de filmar. A partida de hoje, por exemplo, terminou com um empate. É verdade que voaram duas penas, mas isso apenas chega para anular a bicada que o Gaspar levou numa pata. Como é óbvio, tudo isto me enche de uma felicidade parva (de longe, o melhor tipo de felicidade disponível no mercado), porque agora só me falta arranjar uma camisola verde de gola alta para, meninos e meninas, fechar os olhos e concretizar o maior sonho da minha infância.

O que é que acontece quando a Chan Marshall e o M. Ward se juntam para fazer uma canção? Há mais de um ano que me têm chegado ecos deste «Willie Deadwilder» (a primeira vez, creio que foi num artigo do João Bonifácio no Público), uma faixa extra do documentário «Speaking For Trees» de Mark Borthwick. No entanto, só ontem é que consegui deitar-lhe as unhas e, meus amigos, que coisa mais alucinada e bela. O que temos aqui é uma canção folk com mais de 18 minutos, em que a Cat Power debita versos sobre um falso loop de guitarra acústica de M. Ward (falso, porque ao longo do tema há variações subtis no dedilhar hipnótico do rapaz, como mudanças de tempo e intensidade ou a inclusão de harmónicos e hammer-ons). Tudo isto é muito Bob Dylan, claro, e faz sobretudo recordar hinos como «Desolation Row», «Sad-Eyed Lady of The Lowlands» e, sobretudo, o magnífico «Highlands» (tema com o qual, de resto, «Willie Deadwilder» parece entrar diversas vezes em diálogo). Digo isto não apenas porque a letra refere o nome de Dylan e de, pelo menos, meia-dúzia das suas canções, mas porque há uma polifonia, um sentido de humor auto-referencial e uma cadência narrativa que são a marca registada do autor de «Blood on Tracks». O que é que acontece quando a Chan Marshall e o M. Ward se juntam para fazer uma canção? A soma das partes torna-se uma multiplicação.

WILLIE DEADWILDER (2004)
(Letra & Voz: Chan Marshall / Música e Guitarra: M. Ward)

Willie Deadwilder and Rebecca
They knew that they loved one another
He said fuck this cabby life
She said fuck this old trailer
He said I want you for my wife

Willie Deadwilder and Rebecca
They saw the same things at once
They shared the kind of stuff
Everybody dreams of
Finding out about it's all about love

Willie Deadwilder and Rebecca
They got a few more years to go
Gonna have some good old times
No more sad, sad bad times
It's all that they've been waiting for
Someone to knock at that door
I tell you there are some people living alone
There are some people with nowhere to go
There are some people who don't believe in love
But Willie and Rebecca prove them all wrong

First time I saw him he smiled at me
And the first time I saw her she was beautiful
Sixty-two plus forty-six equals one hundred and eight
Possible years they'll live long to
That's almost half of the rest of his life
That's over half for her

Willie was shot once in his mind
His cry out saved his life
The second time was through the heart
The doctor pulled the bullet from inside
He had a job to do, he thought
That's his way of life
To take that car and pick her up
To be a man for her
Broken down and cutted
She had been married for most her life
Now she's finally free for a while
Long enough to see this man and what he means
When he tells her that God in on his side
No matter what and will you marry me?

Willie Deadwilder and Rebecca
They want to live a life
I wish I had a million dollars
So we could throw it all away
I wish I had a million dollars
So we could light it aflame
I wish I had one million dollars
So we could spend it every day
I'm on the same side as you
I'm just a little bit behind

And please don't bring me down
Please don't let me go
I'm looking for a new kind of thing
A place that makes my heart sing
Another question answered from above

Please don't let it worry you now
Please don't let it worry you now
I've seen inside your heart and soul
It's beautifully jacketed
An open hand and a mind to lend
There's nothing more romantic
Than a distant place behind your smile
Tells my eyes that I am coming home
Please don't bring me down
Please don't let me go

My heart is a worried thing
Memories have planted
Seeds of a field I now want to reap and sow
Maybe when I’m sixty-two, maybe when I’m forty-six
Maybe when I’m thirty, maybe the next time I see you
We will have our universe for the first time, again
Rings around our sweet friendship
Will tear up in into a run
Galloping forever more until tomorrow is gone

I deeply say to you now
I deeply say to you now
I deeply say to you now
There's another question answered from above
You're the kind of friend of mine I never had
You're the kind of love I had that I never thought there was
Saint Saint Saint Saint Augustine
Far far far away Georgie Koontz
We gotta stake this thing out
We gotta laugh the whole day through
We gotta live the way that we want to

As long as God is willing, I am too
And as long as you are here, I am too
As long as he and she can forgive and love again and still love us too
You take my heart and you give it to me
You show me love I’ve never seen
You take my heart and give it to me

When Dylan sang Ramona in the taxi that night
I knew it right away would either be hard or be right
Cause I'm not Ramona and you didn't write that song
Cause you're not Dylan, and I know we really do get along
Get along and get on with what it is you got to do
Go on get along with whom ever you choose
This is your life
But if God is willing, then I'm willing too, oh
I'll be in the front, back and side of you
Just many happily waiting for you
Saint Saint Saint Saint Saint Augustine
Far away far way Georgie Koontz
You know what it is
You know what it is you got to do

A young little girl named Jennifer gave me a turquoise ring
A native sentiment of joy love and peace
I thank you for this ring: it's beautiful to me
A lady future journalist gave to me a lucky sweater to wear
Stains she had since eighteen, amazing that she did that
It would have been hard to do for me

A man named John wrote a song for me to sing
Also the most unbelievable flowers I have ever seen
He is a very good man
And he has been an even very good man to me
I hope that one day that song I will sing
Another love named Jennifer gives her care to me
A radiant heart with holy power, she believed in me
And with that gift I cry right now
But a memory of her laughing kills the beast

Another love I still love, a familiar face to me
A standing arch above my heart I've never been to reach
He's laid my head on the bed
And told me «Sweet, I'm not crazy like the others say»
No, he's not crazy like me

This is a four hour song
And it will go on and on
A moment in time traveling on
Even if it is too long
I don't care
I love to share
I love to sing along
I know you do too
Feel the same way so come along
Sing your song
It's all that you have to do

I'm looking for that kind of mind
I never thought I’d find
I'm looking for that kind of love
I never thought was real
I'm looking for your heart
My dear, are you...looking for me?
Please don't bring me down
Please don't let me go

With your love I have foothold, I can carry on
But please don't let me worry you now
Please don't let me worry you now
There's nothing I am saying
That could ever be made wrong
I love you, love you so
I love you so strong
Please remember your heart in me
Please remember it's not anatomically correct
Please know there's no boundary
And if God is willing to protect our love, a world of love
I think you'd be willing too

Where are you from?
And where are you going to?
We have so much to do
Where you are going is
Where you do come from
And where I will be is with you
We have so much to do
We have so much to do
We have so much to do
Hurry, hurry, hurry let's go
Hurray, hurray, things are gonna be okay
Hurry, hurry let's go
All them children are waiting
It's time and they are ready
We got so much to do
And if God is willing
We have got so much
We have got so much

Numa altura em que andava bastante ocupado com dois discos (os novos dos Arcade Fire e dos Air, curiosamente dois objectos de lenta digestão), eis que me chega às mãos «Yellow House», o segundo álbum dos Grizzly Bear. Poderia agora demonstrar mais uma vez que sou exagerado e é exactamente isso que vou fazer: so far, c'est le disque del año. Música arrojada com pulso, capaz de invocar fantasmas distantes dos Beach Boys ou espectros mais recentes de uns Animal Collective - e viciante até dizer chega. Para prová-lo, não há nada de melhor que o vídeo de «Knife», um objecto estranho que parece saído da mente perversa de um Paulo Portas sob ácido e com sentido de humor (nunca menosprezem a arbitrariedade das minhas metáforas). A canção, essa, é uma obra filha dos seus tios. E reza assim: «I want you to know / When i look in your eyes / With every blow / Comes another lie / You think its alright.../ Can't you feel the knife?». Se sinto.

(Antichrist Television Blues) (Arcade Fire, 2007)

Don't wanna work in the building downtown
No I don't wanna work in the building downtown
I don't know what I'm gonna do
Cuz the planes keep crashing on us two by two
Don't wanna work in the building downtown
No I don't wanna see you when the planes hit the ground

Don't wanna work in the building downtown
Don't wanna work in the building downtown
Parking the cars in the underground
Their voices when they scream, well they make no sound
I wanna see the cities rust
And the trouble makers riding on the back of the bus

Dear god, I'm a good christian man
In your glory, I know you understand
You gotta work hard and you gotta get paid
My girl's thirteen but she don't act her age
She can sing like a bird in a cage
Oh Lord, if you could see her when she's up on that stage

You know that I’m a god fearing man
You know that I’m a god fearing man
Well i just gotta know if it's part of your plan
To seat my daughters there by your right hand
I know that you'll do what's right, Lord
For they are the lanterns and you are the light

Now I’m overcome
By the light of day
My lips are near but my heart is far away
Tell me what to say
I'll be your mouthpiece

Into the light of the bridge that burns
As I drive from the city with the money that I earned
Into the black of a starless sky
I'm staring into nothing and I’m asking you why:
Lord, will you make her a star
So the world can see who you really are?

Little girl, you're old enough to understand
You'll always be a stranger in a strange strange land
Men are gonna come while you're fast asleep
So you better just stay close and hold on to me
If my little mockingbird don't sing
Well then daddy won't buy no diamond ring

Dear god would you send me a child
Oh god would you send me a child
Cos I wanna put it up on the tv screen
So the world can see what your true word means
ill know it when you send me a sign
Cos I just gotta know if I’m wastin' my time

Now I’m overcome
By the light of day
My lips are near but my heart is far away
Now the war is won
How come nothing tastes good?

Oh you're such a sensitive child
You know you're such a sensitive child
Know you're tired, but it's alright
Just need you to sing for me tonight
You can have your day in the sun
You know god loves the sensitive ones

Oh my little bird in a cage
Oh my little bird in a cage
I need you to get up for me, up on that stage
Show the men that you're too old for your age
Now ain't the time for fear
But if you don't take it, it'll disappear

Oh my little mockingbird sing
Oh my little mockingbird sing
I need you to get up for me on the stage for me honey
Show the men it's not about the money
Wanna hold a mirror up to the world
So that they can see themselves inside my little girl

Do you know where I was at your age?
Any idea where I was at your age?
I was working downtown for the minimum wage
And I'm not gonna let you just throw it all away
I'm through being cute, I'm through being nice
Tell me lord, am I the anti-christ?

(Acaba mesmo assim. Aliás, não poderia acabar de outra forma, certo?)

Não é para me gabar (é é), mas sou o legítimo proprietário do primeiro álbum de M. Ward editado em 1999 e intitulado DUET FOR GUITARS #2 (nome giro para um disco de estreia), uma autêntica preciosidade que nem sequer vem listada aqui. Não irei aqui falar do dinheiro que gastei e das coisas que tive de colocar na boca para conseguir esta maravilha, mas apenas partilhar um tema chamado «Beautiful Car», que é uma obra-prima prematura do meu compositor favorito. Para além da música, vale bem a pena prestar atenção à letra. M. Ward fala-nos de um dia da sua infância marcado por dois acontecimentos antagónicos: a oportunidade de conduzir um Roadster de 1952 e o assassínio do filho do seu professor. Nada inocente é o critério que eleva o primeiro acontecimento à categoria de título e refrão.

BEAUTIFUL CAR (M. Ward, 1999)

I was washing antique cars
Working part-time for my dad after-school
When I got the go-ahead to pick a car
And spin around the neighborhood

It was a baby blue '52 Roadstar
It was a beautiful car

That was the night I heard of the fighting
And the murder of the schoolmaster's son
Last year I asked him who he was afraid of
And he answered «everyone»

But did I even flinch a wrist?
Should I have tried to undo what had been done?
Now, that's just the way it’s gotta be
I should never have to worry myself none

Mas há mais. Aqui numa gravação manhosa (mas, ó Deuses, tão preciosa) a interpretar a magnânime «Fuel For Fire» de TRANSISTOR RADIO (o disco editado o ano passado). Relativamente à versão de estúdio, há a registar a aparição de um xilofone (de longe, a palavra mais bela da língua portuguesa) e sobretudo, meninos e meninas, estejam atentos ao minuto 02:20, pois poderão ouvir o mais [colocar adjectivo] solo de harmónica que já ouviram nas vossas vidas. Ah pois é.

FUEL FOR FIRE (M. Ward, 2005)

My heart is always on the line
I've traveled all kinds of places
The song is always the same
Got lonesome fuel for fire

Got 45s to play at night
Got books to spend with every weekend
The story's always the same
Got lonesome fuel for fire

Fuel for fire, a bitter ending to a sweet, sweet day
Fuel for fire, the sour note inside the orchestra wail
Fuel for fire, the uncomfortable pulses between famous last words
Fuel for fire, missing persons in a small, small world

Só mesmo este rapaz para me fazer voltar a estas ruínas: o grande, único e incomparável M. Ward acaba outra vez de mimar o mundo com um novo álbum intitulado POST-WAR. Num momento em que andava a ter um ataque Bob Dylaniano (pelos vistos, não sou o único), ouvir este novo disco (que não é nem melhor nem pior que o resto da sua discografia - é mais uma obra-prima, ponto final) levou-me a reparar nas imensas semelhanças entre as suas canções e as do autor de «Tangled Up In Blue» - sobretudo às do período BRINGING IT ALL BACK HOME / HIGHWAY 61 REVISITED / BLONDE ON BLONDE, esses quinze magníficos meses em que Bob Dylan mudou para sempre a história da música. A única novidade relevante desse novo álbum é o facto de Ward ter agora uma banda a acompanhá-lo (até nisto a analogia é pertinente) e das suas canções (ó heresia!) terem um cunho ligeiramente mais pop. O cabrão do disco começa assim:

e depois, como se isso não bastasse, atira-nos com esta

magnífca versão de um original de Daniel Johnston (isso mesmo, o maluquinho dos desenhos a caneta de filtro). O resto do álbum continua neste tom de impune genialidade, mas não resisto a destacar o single de apresentação intitulado «Chinese Translation», cuja letra é um belíssimo nó cego (bem visível nas citações de segundo grau) que me faz lembrar os textos apócrifos dos autores orientais que o Borges gostava tanto de «citar»:

CHINESE TRANSLATION (M. Ward, 2006)

I sailed a wild wild sea, climbed up a tall tall mountain
I met a old old man beneath a weeping willow tree
He said: ««Now if you got some questions go and lay them at my feet
But my time here is brief, so you'll have to pick just three»

And I said: «What do you do with the pieces of a broken heart?
And how can a man like me remain in the light?
And if life is really as short as they say, then why is the night so long?»
And then the sun went down and he sang for me this song:

«See I once was a young fool like you afraid to do the things that I knew I'd to do
So I played an escapade just like you, I played an escapade just like you
I sailed a wild wild sea climbed up a tall tall mountain
I met an old old man he sat beneath a sapling tree
He said: «Now if you got some questions go and lay them at my feet
but my time here is brief so you'll have to pick just three»

And I said: «What do you do with the pieces of a broken heart?
And how can a man like me remain in the light?
And if life is really as short as they say, then why is the night so long?»
And then the sun went down and he sang for me this song...»

Ah, já agora, também há um belíssimo teledisco e tudo. Cortesia da 4AD:

Vocês estão à espera de quê para comprar aquele que é, de longe, o melhor álbum do ano? (Ou pelo menos até ouvir o novo dos Sparklehorse com o dedinho do Danger Mouse...)