Viser opslag med etiketten Solitudevej. Vis alle opslag
Viser opslag med etiketten Solitudevej. Vis alle opslag

lørdag den 22. april 2017

Iggy i regnvejr på Solitudevej

AT THE CORNER OF DESPERATE AVENUE
AND LONELINESS ROAD

I fødselsdagsinterview i Rolling Stone er der links to splinternye, tyst og dirrende (og nydende) inderlige sange, "Every Day" og "Loneliness Road", som Iggy har indspillet sammen med en jazz-trio - her nogle bidder fra selve interviewet:

"I was just listening to them in the car in stolen moments at first, and I took a lot more time with this than I normally would. "Every Day" was the one that just kind of flew out of my mouth in little bits. The other ones took more thought – "Gee, how would I structure a melody and phrasing that swings it a little?" I tried to keep everything small, in keeping with the quietude about the tunes.
The house I have [in Miami] on a little river, there's a back door with a washer and dryer and a little old chair that I bought on Fifth Avenue in the Eighties – it's an African chair, one of the oldest possessions I have. I sit there with a boom box and mumble some stuff. For some reason, Third Man Records had sent me a bunch of these little tiny books. Anyway, I wrote these lyrics in little tiny notebooks in very bad handwriting. Just kinda worked 'em up that way – as long as it had the feeling and I'd done the proper planning, so that I wasn't gonna dick around.
So I went in and did them, and they were basically first-take on each one. I was a little surprised at how feeble I sounded on certain parts of it [laughs], but I thought that was OK. You know, I kinda thought that the feeling fit. I thought it was my best effort, and I sent 'em in. I thought about it a couple of weeks, and I thought, just let it be what it is.
(...)
"Every Day," to me, sounded like something that, if he wanted to, Barry White or Donny Hathaway or Teddy Pendergrass could have really wailed on. "Don't Lose Yourself," I thought the music sounded a little Doors-y, and so I tried to sing something a little against it – I was looking for phrasing that would make it swing a little. And "Loneliness Road," I kept thinking of Floyd Cramer and his chord voicings. So I had stuff within me emotionally that I wanted to say, on all three – and then, technically, you're influenced by what the music is. "Every Day" would have sounded really terrible if there were a lot of sophisticated verbal images. Better to me if it's plainspoken. Some of the lines are lines you've heard in other songs or in other ways, like "What you see is what you get."
You alter the cliché, though: You say "What you see is what you're gonna get."
Well, yeah [laughs]. There's a little bit of desire and fidelity kind of mixed in there, and also, you know, a little bit of need for love, which is different from desire. Everybody has that, but there are ways to get around it when you're younger. Then, when you're older, there's not.
The music that you're singing over is full of the little imperfections of jazz. There's a lot of wisdom in it, and it's kind of open and unguarded.
Yes, that's what appealed to me. There's no big, bashing thing or echo trick to hide behind. And then there are little things where it kinda goes on and on, rises and falls, and it's a trio – they were doing what they wanted within their own boundaries. I tried to come in and live in it, basically.
Was that the challenge?
Yes, to get inside it. That's the big one. Listening very, very carefully is an art. Sometimes it's just like cooking an egg – there's steps you gotta do to get to know it – but at other points you've got to do it in a state of extreme enjoyment, almost bliss, to allow something happen, to come out of yourself, to connect with the thing.
For instance, in "Loneliness Road," I noticed, OK, Steve's coming in with the bass line early. Suddenly the soundscape suddenly changes. I thought, "Ooh, that's the place to come in with a certain pickup line." It just matched. I knew that in my register it would be good.
Later in that one, there were bits where they kinda started swangin', a little bit like a show band, and you'll hear me up the ante a little bit and give a little discreet shout once in a while.
(...)
This reflective guy you inhabit on these songs on Loneliness Road – he's a persona. I feel that we've seen him before. What else do you know about that guy?
Yeah, right – they kind of pop out, these guys. I don't really sit around working on them. Well, you know, he's lonesome, a little bit of an airhead, a little bit head-in-the-clouds, maybe. A little bit weary of the game he's in. Yeah, you know. You know. Like so many other people. In a way this started back when I was at the height of the touring machine with the re-formed Stooges, when I wrote a song called "I Want to Go to the Beach." That was a very melancholic song – it's the same guy. I wrote it in that little house with a feeling of hopelessness that I would ever be able to find a place to record it, how would I put it out, where would it find a home. And with a feeling of hopelessness that I would ever overcome that melancholy. But I've made a habit of writing out my pessimism, and it tends to lead to a surprisingly optimistic outcome.
(...)
And then a few years later this guy brought me a bottle of wine to the gig in Lyon. He owns a very nice wine shop in Lyon, and he said, "Every so often I order 25 copies of Apres and I put them on the counter next to the cash register, and they sell out."
Nice!
Yeah! [Laughs] I like being at the wine shop! I like that idea! Yeah! But I look at the albums I've done and I think there's some good in there, and I'm in a fortunate enough area right now to kinda let them all sit, and there are people who will check them all out and enjoy them if I don't deluge them with a bunch of albums. But I like singin'. So I kinda like being a guest. Different position.
I have heard that you are about to turn 70.
[Laughs] Yeah, I keep hearing about it too! I haven't made it yet. I gotta get to Friday.
Tell me something. ... I would guess that for you, 70 is arbitrary: just a number. But I would expect that as a worker, you are looking at the precedents that have been set, scanning around the history of music, looking at singers who got to that exact age and were making great things at that age. Is that true?I haven't really thought about it that way. Maybe I should.
You definitely think prosaically about "what kind of work can I do," "what kind of work would I be comfortable doing," and "what kind of work can I get." But on the other hand, there's this other guy [laughs]. There's this other thing going on. I really like Sleaford Mods, and they have a particularly vicious track called "Chop Chop Chop." I covered it the other day in rehearsal, and I put my own verses in there about the most scathing episodes in my life history.
Anyway, you get a little more circumspect. If you manage to live this long, that's O.K.; you want to live longer, but at the same time you don't want to do that just for the sake of breathing.
But it's really do a little bit here, do a little bit there, and try to be a decent hang."

Billedresultat for iggy pop

onsdag den 29. april 2015

Blur does Solitudevej

Sangen "Lonesome Street" på den nye, hovedrige Blur-plade er selvfølgelig på streng repeat indtil i morgen klokken 12:40: 

What do you got?
Mass produced in somewhere hot
You'll have to go on the Underground
To get things done here
(And then you have to see)
If you need a yellow duck - service done
This is a place to come to, or, well, it was
I know a hot spot
Crossing on the guillotine

And if you have nobody left to rely on
I'll hold you in my arms and let you drift
It's got to be that time again
And June, June will be over soon again

So get yourself up, get past on your way
There's nothing to be ashamed of
Taking off again
The 514 to East Grinstead
(You've sent me off to see)
We're going up, up, up, up, up
Coursing on our greatest night
And talking types will let us down, again
Talk, talk on your arse all night
You wanna be there

Step inside the tarmac ride
To the land that crime forgot
Oh, just don't go there
Cracks inside the tarmac ride
To the land that crime forgot, oh no

And if you have nobody left to rely on
I'll hold you in my arms and let you drift
Going down to Lonesome Street
Going down to Lonesome Street
Lonesome Street
Going down to Lonesome Street
Lonesome Street
Going down to Lonesome Street
Lonesome Street


(og her en forgænger, der hedder det samme, Sven Gyldmark og rimmesteren Poetens "Solitudevej" (og som bekendt er Solitudevej en virkelig og virkelig ensom, kort og blind vej på Nørrebro du støder lige ind i den cyklende til byen fra Literaturhaus)

Jeg er altså døbt Gertrude.
Og min ven han hedder Kaj.
Så en mandag sku' han møde mig på Solitudevej.
Der stod jeg, og det blev regnvejr.
Tiden gik, men ingen Kaj.
Men jo mere koldt og klamt det blev,
jo mere længselsfuld og varm blev jeg.
Uh, man trænger til en te'r forgude sig.
Om manda'n. I regnvejr. På Solitudevej.
For der er ikke muntert derude, nej.
Om manda'n. I regnvejr. På Solitudevej.
Så med et var der li'som en tanke, der sa':
"Hvis nu Kaj er brændt ud, og så du bli'r brændt a'?"
Det var ikke en tanke, der huede mig.
Om manda'n. I regnvejr. På Solitudevej.

Regnen drypped' ned fra himlen.
Teinten drypped' ned fra mig.
Drippe, drappe, dryppe op og ned ad Solitudevej.
Næsesløret og pleurøsen
hængte li'som sørgeflag.
Jeg var gennemblødt, så undertøjet føltes
nærmest som et grødomslag.
Og min stråhat - den hang her og buede sig.
Om manda'n. I regnvejr. På Solitudevej.
Og så åbnede skoenes snude sig.
Om manda'n. I regnvejr. På Solitudevej.
Kjolen hang som en gulvklud med ikk' en plissé.
Og der stod jeg så klam som en ål i gele.
Både sorg og forkølelse truede mig.
Om manda'n. I regnvejr. På Solitudevej.

Men tålmodighed belønnes:
Pludselig så så jeg Kaj.
Og det var, som solen skinned' over Solitudevej.
Men med et blev solen borte.
Jeg blegned' som en selleri.
Det gik op for mig, at Kaj han sikkert ikke
var mig rigtig tro, fordi
i hans kølvand der viste en skude sig.
Om manda'n. I regnvejr. På Solitudevej.
Til hans mund med et trykkys hun sugede sig.
Om manda'n. I regnvejr. På Solitudevej.
Ind i porten skrås overfor så jeg de gled,
og på tredje sal blevet gardin rullet ned.
Og der stod jeg, mens de leged' brudeleg.
Om manda'n. I regnvejr. På Solitudevej.

Nu' jeg altså en slags enke.
Jeg blev aldrig gift med Kaj.
Ensom bor jeg i mit jomfrubur på Solitudevej.
Og især når det er mandag,
og især når det er regn,
ka' jeg bli' så melankolisk, når jeg sidder
der og kikker ned på vej'n.
Så vemodigt bedugger min rude sig.
Om manda'n. I regnvejr. På Solitudevej.
Mens jeg sidder og syr på stra-pude-maj.
Om manda'n. I regnvejr. På Solitudevej.
Der er dryp ned fra himlen og dryp i mit blik.
Og vi græder om kap med en ostebutik.
Og jeg drømmer om Kaj - uh, det studekvaj !
Om manda'n. I regnvejr. På Solitudevej.