maandag 2 augustus 2010

Elis Regina

Elis Regina is in de jaren zestig en zeventig voor de braziliaanse muziek wat Billie Holliday voor de Jazz was, Janis Joplin voor de popmuziek, Jacques Brel voor de Chanson. Als zij zingt wordt ze wat ze zingt. Of nee, eigenlijk weet je zeker dat zij altijd al was wat ze zingt, het gaat over haar. Liefdesverdriet, passie, melancholie; met haar luie en perfecte timing geloof je alles wat ze je verteld. Ook al versta je de woorden niet.

In het eerste fimpje betovert ze je de eerste twee en een halve minuut met haar verschijning en verhaal. Om daarna gelukzalig te gaan zingen over...?? (Coco, ik wil dit vertaald hebben)



De tweede video is uit een fantastische reeks opnames die makkelijk op Youtube is te vinden. De tekst van dit poetische lied mag niet ontbreken:



Waters of March

A stick, a stone,
It's the end of the road,
It's the rest of a stump,
It's a little alone

It's a sliver of glass,
It is life, it's the sun,
It is night, it is death,
It's a trap, it's a gun

The oak when it blooms,
A fox in the brush,
A knot in the wood,
The song of a thrush

The wood of the wind,
A cliff, a fall,
A scratch, a lump,
It is nothing at all

It's the wind blowing free,
It's the end of the slope,
It's a beam, it's a void,
It's a hunch, it's a hope

And the river bank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the end of the strain,
The joy in your heart

The foot, the ground,
The flesh and the bone,
The beat of the road,
A slingshot's stone

A fish, a flash,
A silvery glow,
A fight, a bet,
The range of a bow

The bed of the well,
The end of the line,
The dismay in the face,
It's a loss, it's a find

A spear, a spike,
A point, a nail,
A drip, a drop,
The end of the tale

A truckload of bricks
in the soft morning light,
The shot of a gun
in the dead of the night

A mile, a must,
A thrust, a bump,
It's a girl, it's a rhyme,
It's a cold, it's the mumps

The plan of the house,
The body in bed,
And the car that got stuck,
It's the mud, it's the mud

Afloat, adrift,
A flight, a wing,
A hawk, a quail,
The promise of spring

And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the promise of life
It's the joy in your heart

A stick, a stone,
It's the end of the road
It's the rest of a stump,
It's a little alone

A snake, a stick,
It is John, it is Joe,
It's a thorn in your hand
and a cut in your toe

A point, a grain,
A bee, a bite,
A blink, a buzzard,
A sudden stroke of night

A pin, a needle,
A sting, a pain,
A snail, a riddle,
A wasp, a stain

A pass in the mountains,
A horse and a mule,
In the distance the shelves
rode three shadows of blue

And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the promise of life
in your heart, in your heart

A stick, a stone,
The end of the road,
The rest of a stump,
A lonesome road

A sliver of glass,
A life, the sun,
A knife, a death,
The end of the run

And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the end of all strain,
It's the joy in your heart.


Tenslotte een opname met Tom Jobim. Samen met hem heeft zij het mooiste bossa nova album ooit opgenomen: 'Elis & Tom'
Luister hoe mooi ze op het eind zachtjes breekt...

1 opmerking:

Petra Kremer zei

Prachtige tekst en heel mooi nummer, volgens mij ergens eerder gehoord....