The Little Willies

Norah y sus amigos los Little Willies sacan disco nuevo en breve (estos días se puede escuchar entero en la web de NPR). Escuché el primer disco como un poseso y de todas las canciones mi preferida sin duda era esta maravilla, que probablemente ya he puesto aquí :)

Me maravilla el poder evocador de la música: mientras traduzco, vuelvo a escuchar The Fall (Spotify), el disco que Norah Jones sacó justo durante mi primera visita a Nueva York, que escuché compulsivamente esos días y apenas he vuelto a oír desde entonces, y me sobrevienen sensaciones de la ciudad. No son recuerdos concretos, no hay imágenes ni sonidos definidos, pero siento de pronto que estoy de nuevo allí, that I go back to Manhattan.

Stay (forever) young, stay foolish

(Vía OpenCulture)

Long way home

Esta canción de Hayes Carll es de esas que me descubro silbando una y otra vez (a veces, incluso, sin al principio qué es lo que estoy silbando, o de quién).

El sonido no es muy bueno, pero no he encontrado nada mejor en Youtube (aquí está en Spotify):



Ramblin' boy you been around
From Dallas to the underground
High above and down below
Places I was scared to go

You sang it loud in case they heard
Hangin' on to every word
Gentle as a lullaby
Firecrackers in your eyes

And I would give anything
For one more night to run
For one last song to sing

You weren't askin' much at all
Just catch you when you fall
On your own, the long way home


What's that sadness in your smile
You've been cryin' all the while
Could you lean upon my shoulder
I guess you'd die to just get older

So what are we supposed to do
Just walk around forever blue
And all this hurry up and wait
Was it chance or was it fate?

And I would give anything
For one more night to run
For one last song to sing

You weren't askin' much at all
Just catch you when you fall
On your own, the long way home

Hayes Carll

Por cierto, gracias a Youtube caigo en que es el mismo título que el de una canción de Tom Waits (aquí en Spotify) que canta Norah Jones:

How Many Times Have You Broken My Heart?

New York City, such a beautiful disease...

I can't remember what I planned tomorrow
I can't remember when it's time to go
When I look in the mirror
Tracing lines with a pencil
I remember what came before

I wanted to think there was endless love
Until I saw the light dim in your eyes
In the dead of the night I found out
Sometimes there's love that won't survive

New York City
Such a beautiful disease
New York City
Such a beautiful,
Such a beautiful disease

Laura kept all her disappointments
Locked up in a box behind her closet door
She pulled the blinds and listened to the thunder
With no way out from the family store

We all told her things could get better
When you just say goodbye
I'll lay awake one more night
Caught in a vision I want to deny

And did I mention the note that I found
Taped to my locked front door
It talked about no regrets
As it slipped from my hand to the scuffed tile floor

I rode the train for hours on end
And watched the people pass me by
It could be that it has no end
Just an action junkie's lullaby

New York City
Such a beautiful disease
New York City
Such a beautiful,
Such a beautiful disease

We were full of the stuff that every dream rested
As if floating on a lumpy pillow sky
Caught up in the whole illusion
That dreams never pass us by
Came to a tattoed conclusion
That the big one was knocking on the door
What started as a mass delusion
Would take me far from the place I adore

New York City
Such a beautiful disease
New York City
Such a beautiful,
Such a beautiful disease


The Peter Malick Group

You can play with fire but you'll get the bill

Grande Dylan, grande Norah!

La letra que canta Norah cambia el he original de Dylan por un she pero a mí, por supuesto, me gusta más cantársela a ella.

Por cierto, este disco de Norah con el grupo de Peter Malick se titula New York City ("such a beautiful disease", "qué hermosa enfermedad"... Je!).






Heart of mine be still,
You can play with fire but you'll get the bill.
Don't let her know
Don't let her know that you love her.
Don't be a fool, don't be blind
Heart of mine.

Heart of mine go back home,
You got no reason to wander, you got no reason to roam.
Don't let her see
Don't let her see that you need her.
Don't put yourself over the line
Heart of mine.

Heart of mine go back where you been,
It'll only be trouble for you if you let her in.
Don't let her hear
Don't let her hear you want her.
Don't let her know she's so fine
Heart of mine.

Heart of mine you know that she'll never be true,
She'll only give to others the love that she's gotten from you.
Don't let her know
Don't let her know where you're going.
Don't untie the ties that bind
Heart of mine.

Heart of mine so malicious and so full of guile,
Give you an inch and you'll take a mile.
Don't let yourself fall, don't let yourself stumble.
If you can't do the time, don't do the crime
Heart of mine.

Bob Dylan

I'll go back to Manhattan...

...en poco más de un mes.

Con parada y fonda en Brooklyn, of course.


Con la voz de Norah como compañía y Muñoz Molina como guía.

:-P

Llega el verano...

...aunque aún no haya empezado ni la primavera.

Drexler saca disco y sale de gira (Madrid, 7 de mayo; Barcelona, 9 de junio, entradas aquí)

Y Norah viene a España (Bilbao, 11 de julio, entradas aquí; Vigo, 14 de julio; Perelada, 16 de julio)

Esa habitación

You and me and,
Me and you,
In my little room,
There's room enough for us to do,
The things we like to do.

Oops, I hit my elbow on the doorknob,
It's right there,
It's by the bed next to my head,
But I don't even care.

There's stars up on the wall,
And they all glow in the dark,
And we can hear the children playing,
Outside in the park.

There's bars on the window,
And if there were a fire,
We'd burn up for sure,
But that's just fine by me 'cause,
We would be together ever more.

In this little room,
In the big city we're so far,
From the people that we knew
In my big ol' blue car.

But if we stick together,
Then I know we'll be ok,
'cause when it gets too cold outside,
This room is where we'll stay.

Norah Jones

NYC. The end.

Todo tiene su final, y mi viaje también, claro.

Ya estoy en casita, aún despistado con el cambio horario (pero con unas ganas locas de volver mañana al curro...), aunque mi kabeza es probable que permanezca en NYC durante un tiempo, que ya nos conocemos.

Por lo pronto, sigo escuchando el último disco de Norah Jones, que ha sido mi banda sonora obsesiva estos días.



I'll go back to Manhattan
As if nothing ever happened
When I cross that bridge
It'll be as if this don't exist

I have a prince who is waiting
And it came about time
I'll go back to Manhattan
As if nothing ever happened

You don't have to speak at all
I won't look into your eyes,
And I won't have to fall
You don't have to speak at all

But Brooklyn holds you
It holds my heart too
What a fool I was to think I could let them both go

You don't have to speak at all
I won't look into your eyes,
And I won't have to fall
I don't have to speak at all

I should go back to Manhattan
It's just a train ride away
I know nothing about leaving
But I know I should do it today

Norah Jones



If I touched myself
The way you touched me
If I could hold myself
The way you held me

Then I wouldn't need you
I wouldn't need you
No, I wouldn't need you
To love me

If I could replace
The things you gave me
If I could see my face
Without the tragedy

Then I wouldn't need you
I wouldn't need you
No, I wouldn't need you
To love me

But I do
So come back
Come back

If you could see the way I act
When I'm alone
If you could hear my voice crack
Over the phone

Then you'd know I need you
You'd I need you
Oh, you'd know I need you
To love me

Norah Jones

La bizca por excelencia estrena disco.

Norah se hace mayor.

Not too late

Sí, sí, me estoy quitando, pero entretanto...



Tell me how you've been,
Tell what you've seen,
Tell me that you'd like to see me too.

'cause my heart is full of no blood,
My cup is full of no love,
Couldn't take another sip even if I wanted.

But it's not too late,
Not too late for love.

My lungs are out of air,
Yours are holding smoke,
And it's been like that for so long.

I've seen people try to change,
And I know it isn't easy,
But nothin' worth the time ever is.

And it's not too late,
It's not too late for love,
For love,
For love,
For love.

Norah Jones

Lo dicho.

La semana pasada vi al fin Cosas que nunca te dije, de Isabel Coixet, una peli con cierto pedigrí por la que siempre había sentido curiosidad, en parte por recomendación de mi querido B.

Y me pasó lo que esperaba, lo que me ha pasado con otras pelis suyas (la excepción, Mi vida sin mí, que no me atrevo a volver a ver por si acaso...): me molesta el toque Coixet, me pone nervioso.

Para mí se trata de una mezcla de tristeza impostada, romanticismo cursi y el recurso a las casualidades, a los sucesos inexplicables, absurdos, para crear una atmósfera lírica que a mí sólo me resulta patética, en el peor sentido de la palabra.

No me emociona. Y además me irrita.

Anoche me temí lo peor cuando empecé a ver My blueberry nights, de Wong Kar Wai, autor de la maravillosa In the mood for love, y mi fino olfato percibió el tufillo Coixet...

Menos mal que, mitómano y arbitrario como soy, el hecho de que la película la protagonizase Norah Jones (sí, Norah Jones) hizo que suspendiese el juicio y disfrutase de una película extraña, de la habilidad estética del director, de la actuación de sus compañeros de reparto (casi nada: Jude Law, Natalie Portman, el gran David Strathairn, la bellísima Rachel Weisz).

La verdad es que Norah, en su debut como actriz, no lo hace mal pero no está a la altura de esos monstruos. Y no es raro, porque ésa es mucha altura.

Pero me da igual, porque para mí ya está más allá del bien y del mal. Varias veces a lo largo de la película me sorprendió una sensación que no había tenido nunca: cuando la oía hablar, algo me hacía pensar "yo esta voz la conozco", me sonaba como la voz de una amiga, de un familiar, tan cercana que no me cuadraba oírla en la televisión.

Es que son ya unos cuantos años y, sobre todo, miles y miles de veces, las que llevo escuchando su hipnótica voz en canciones como esta preciosidad, escrita por uno de los grandes del country, Waylon Jennings, y que aquí ella canta junto a otro mito viviente, Willie Nelson:



The Wurlitzer Prize

I'm not here to forget you
I'm here to recall
The things we used to say and do
I don't want to get over you
I don't want to get over you

I haunt the same places
We used to go
Alone at a table for two
I don't want to get over you
I don't want to get over you

Outta give me the wurlitzer prize
For all the silver I let slide down the slot
Playing those songs so blue
Help me remember you
I don't want to get over you

A fresh roll of quarters
Same old song
Missing you through and through
I don't want to get over you
I don't want to get over you

Outta give me the wurlitzer prize
For all the silver I let slide down the slot
Playing those songs so blue
Help me remember you
I don't want to get over you
I don't want to get over you
I don't want to get over you

Waylon Jennings

Y ya que estoy lanzado, Norah con Kris Kristofferson cantando a Johnny Cash:

My life wasn't meant to be lived,
it was meant to be sung

Dayna Kurtz

Conciertazo el martes en Clamores: Dayna Kurtz, "la última trovadora folk de Nueva York".

Su caso, como el de Ruibal, no deja de sorprenderme: música de calidad, poesía en las letras, una voz única, poderosa y capaz de emocionar, y sin embargo no dejan de ser conocidos únicamente por pequeñas y fieles minorías: todas las mesas estaban ocupadas en el pequeño templo del jazz madrileño, si bien es cierto que había sitio para bastante más gente de pie.

Dayna, que se trabajó los mismos escenarios del circuito alternativo neoyorkino que Norah Jones (con la que llegó a grabar una versión del clásico de Duke Ellington I got it bad (and that ain't good)), no tuvo sin embargo un golpe de fortuna como el que llevó a la Jones a grabar un disco casi sin querer (como ella misma reconoce aquí: "the first album was sort of let's throw stuff at a wall and see what sticks") y a convertirse en una accidental superstar.

Y por eso sigue actuando en sitios pequeños como Clamores, que consigue llenar por completo con su intensa música (esta vez, además de su voz y su guitarra, le acompañaba un pianista que, por la pinta, podría perfectamente haberse escapado de cualquier laboratorio de físicos locos...).

Y nosotros, mientras podamos, aprovecharemos este pequeño lujo.

Hay canciones que se me quedan pegadas, que no puedo quitarme de encima, que me paso el día entero silbando, para desesperación de quienes me rodean ;-). Son canciones que necesito escuchar cada cierto tiempo, que a menudo me descubro tarareando sin darme cuenta. Una de ellas es ésta de The Little Willies, el grupo de colegas de Norah Jones. No sé si es la letra, la música, o simplemente la maravillosa voz de Norah, pero me parece una joya. ¿No os pasa lo mismo? ¿con qué canciones?

It's not you, it's me

I just can't keep going along
Making believe nothing's wrong
It's wrong and it's always gonna be
Nothing you did in any way
Nothing you said or didn't say
It's not you, baby it's me

So keep on being long and tall
Keep on talkin with the same ol' drawl
Keep on baby don't you trip and fall over me

The petals of the daisy drop
You love me then, you love me not
You love me not, it's plain to see

Who keeps the fire burning bright
The one who's losing sleep at night
It ain't you, baby it's me

So keep the rose you never brought
Keep that ring that you never bought
It's all my fault, it's all my fantasy

Oh, but I can't give you no more of myself
'Cuz I'm lookin out for somebody else
It ain't you, baby it's me

Oh, but I can't give you no more of myself
'Cuz I'm lookin' out for somebody else
It ain't you, baby it's me.

Norah Jones

Aunque la vendan como la nueva gran cantante de jazz, aunque sus discos los publique Blue Note, no es puramente jazz lo que hace, sino una mezcla suavecita de country, folk, con alguna gotita de jazz de su piano.

Pero hay algo fascinante en su voz. Yo no me canso de escucharla: It soothes my soul.

Ahora mismo escucho lo último suyo que he encontrado, un disco que ha grabado con algunos de sus músicos habituales y otros amigos, bajo el nombre de los Little Willies.

De hecho, no son los discos que graba a su nombre lo que más me gusta de ella, sino sus colaboraciones, sus versiones: el disco New York City con el Peter Malick Group, el Here we go again con Ray Charles o este maravilloso Wurlitzer price en el homenaje a Waylon Jennings (Hace unos meses me enteré, por pura casualidad, viendo una peli cualquiera, de qué era una Wurlitzer: la típica máquina de discos de los baretos americanos, la jukebox).

Hela aquí en dúo con Willie Nelson:




I'm not here to forget you
I'm here to recall
the things we used to say and do

I don't wanna get over you
I don't wanna get over you
I haunt the same places
we used to go
alone at a table for two
I don't wanna get over you
I don't wanna get over you

They ought to give me the Wurlitzer prize
for all the silver I let slide down the slot
playin' those songs sung blue
(They) help me remember you
I don't want to get over you

A fresh roll of quarters
same old song missing
you through and through
I don't wanna get over you
I don't wanna get over you


Y, claro, luego está el hecho de que es tremendamente guapa, esa mezcla de rasgos blancos e hindús (es hija de Ravi Shankar), con esos ojos negros algo rasgados y un pelín bizcos. Y esos labios... Uff.