Tom Waits "A song to the soul #29"



1992, Bone Machine , onzième album de Tom Waits. Le plus tordu, le plus singulier le meilleur selon moi. Rempli de percussions semblant provenir d’une casse automobile, une production sans fioriture et une musique étrange qui semble résulter de perditions nocturnes alcoolisées et droguées lors desquelles se multiplièrent les rencontres improbables dans des lieux improbables avec des gens improbables.

Dans la seconde moitié du disque, arrive Murder in the red barn : son ultra sec, poussiéreux et grinçant comme les gonds d’une porte métallique fortement grippés. Pas une goutte de flotte, juste un whisky sec en plein cagnard. Et les mots :

"The trees are bending over

The cows are lying down

The atumn’s taking over

You can hear the buckshot hounds

The watchman said to Reba the loon

Was it pale at Manzanita

Or Blind Bob the raccoon ?

Pin it on a drifter

They sleep beneath the bridge

One plays the violin

And sleeps inside a fridge

There was a murder in the red barn

Someone’s crying in the woods

Someone’s burying all his clothes

Now Slam the Crank from Wheezer

Slept outside last night and froze

Road kill has its seasons

Just like anything

It’s possums in the autumn

And it’s farm cats in the spring

There was a murder in the red barn

Now thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s house

Or covet thy neighbor’s wife

But for some

Murder is the only door through which they enter life

Now they surrounded the house

They smoke him out

They took him off in chains

The sky turned black and bruised

And we had months of heavy rains

Now the raven’s nest in the rotted roof

Of Chenoweth’s old place

And no one’s asking Cal

About that scar upon his face

’Cause there’s nothin’ strange

About an axe with bloodstains in the barn

There’s always some killin’

You got to do around the farm

A murder in the red barn

Now the woods will never tell

What sleeps beneath the trees

Or what’s buried ’neath a rock

Or hiding in the leaves

’Cause road kill has it’s seasons

Just like anything

It’s possums in the atumn

And it’s farm cats in the spring

A murder in the red barn

Now a lady can’t do nothin’

Without folks’ tongues waggin’

Is this blood on the tree

Or is it autumn’s red blaze

When the ground’s soft for diggin’

ANd the rain will bring all this gloom

There’s nothing wrong with a lady

Drinking alone in her room

But there was a murder in the red barn"

Mortel, quoi.


Le 6 mars 2014, par Boog

PJ Harvey

This mess we’re in

Tom Waits

A song to the soul #29

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