Ο ΞΕΝΟΣ

...ή αλλιώς "O Estrangeiro" απο το ομώνυμο άλμπουμ του Caetano Veloso. Eίμαστε πλέον στα μέσα της δεκαετίας του ΄80 και ο μεγάλος αυτός βραζιλιάνος καλλιτέχνης, έχει ξεφύγει απο τα τροπικαλο-ψυχεδελικά παιχνίδια των - καταπληκτικών - πρώτων του έργων και έχει αρχίσει να ωριμάζει, μαζεύοντας όλες τις εμπειρίες που του χάρισε (και του χαρίζει) η ζωή του. Μην ξεχνάμε οτι για κάποια χρόνια ήταν (αυτο)εξόριστος λόγω της χούντας στην πατρίδα του, εκεί στα τέλη '60, αρχές '70. Για μας τους ευρωπαίους (τρομάρα μας), το Μπραζιλ ήταν πάντα καρναβάλι, ριο, σάμπα, πελέ, ρομάριο, φαβέλες και χορεύτριες...
Η πραγματικότητα δεν θα μπορούσε ποτέ να είναι πιο ψεύτικη. Ή, για την ακρίβεια, πιο παραπλανητική.
Μια φοβερή χώρα, ενας απίστευτος "μείκτης" διαφορετικών πολιτισμών, που απο τη μια σου εμφανίζει την Κοπακαμπάνα και απο την άλλη τον Αμαζόνιο, που αν ξεκινήσει κανείς να απαριθμεί τη μουσική προσφορά σε αυτόν τον πλανήτη, θα χαθεί πριν καλά καλά φύγει απο τον Heitor Villa Lobos για να μεταβεί στον Antonio Carlos Jobim, αν δεν έχει εν τω μεταξύ χάσει το μυαλό του στη διασταύρωση των λεωφόρων Gilberto Gil και Os Mutantes...
Μια αρκετά επιτυχημένη περιγραφή της Βραζιλίας την κάνει ο Cyro Baptista στο τραγούδι του "Anthropofagia". Οσοι ενδιαφέρονται για πραγματική μουσική περιπέτεια, ας ψάξουν το θέμα!!!
Επιστρέφοντας στον "Ξένο", θαυμάζω τον τρόπο με τον οποίο η αρχική μουσική εισαγωγή (με δυτικότροπο πιάνο) μετατρέπεται σε ενα διονυσιακό όργιο.. Απόλαυση των αισθήσεων και της ψυχής. Διαβάζοντας όμως τους στίχους, οι κόμποι στο λαιμό σε επαναφέρουν στην πραγματικότητα που θέλει να σου δείξει ο καλλιτέχνης (με "Κ" κεφαλαίο)

O pintor Paul Gauguin amou a luz na Baía de Guanabara
O compositor Cole Porter adorou as luzes na noite dela
A Baía de Guanabara
O antropólogo Claude Levy-strauss detestou a Baía de Guanabara:
Pareceu-lhe uma boca banguela.
E eu menos a conhecera mais a amara?
Sou cego de tanto vê-la, te tanto tê-la estrela
O que é uma coisa bela?
O amor é cego
Ray Charles é cego
Stevie Wonder é cego
E o albino Hermeto não enxerga mesmo muito bem
Uma baleia, uma telenovela, um alaúde, um trem?
Uma arara?
Mas era ao mesmo tempo bela e banguela a Guanabara
Em que se passara passa passará o raro pesadelo
Que aqui começo a construir sempre buscando o belo e o amaro
Eu não sonhei que a praia de Botafogo era uma esteira rolante deareia brancae de óleo diesel
Sob meus tênis
E o Pão de Açucar menos óbvio possível
À minha frente
Um Pão de Açucar com umas arestas insuspeitadas
À áspera luz laranja contra a quase não luz quase não púrpura
Do branco das areias e das espumas
Que era tudo quanto havia então de aurora
Estão às minhas costas um velho com cabelos nas narinas
E uma menina ainda adolescente e muito linda
Não olho pra trás mas sei de tudo
Cego às avessas, como nos sonhos, vejo o que desejo
Mas eu não desejo ver o terno negro do velho
Nem os dentes quase não púrpura da menina
(pense Seurat e pense impressionista
Essa coisa de luz nos brancos dentes e onda
Mas não pense surrealista que é outra onda)
E ouço as vozes
Os dois me dizem
Num duplo som
Como que sampleados num sinclavier:
"É chegada a hora da reeducação de alguém
Do Pai do Filho do espirito Santo amém
O certo é louco tomar eletrochoque
O certo é saber que o certo é certo
O macho adulto branco sempre no comando
E o resto ao resto, o sexo é o corte, o sexo
Reconhecer o valor necessário do ato hipócrita
Riscar os índios, nada esperar dos pretos"
E eu, menos estrangeiro no lugar que no momento
Sigo mais sozinho caminhando contra o vento
E entendo o centro do que estão dizendo
Aquele cara e aquela:
É um desmascaro
Singelo grito:
"O rei está nu"
Mas eu desperto porque tudo cala frente ao fato de que o rei é mais bonito nú
E eu vou e amo o azul, o púrpura e o amarelo
E entre o meu ir e o do sol, um aro, um elo.
("Some may like a soft brazilian singer
but i've given up all attempts at perfection").
...
και στα αγγλικά (όπως αποδόθηκε απο ενα βραζιλιάνο χρήστη του youtube):
The painter Paul Gauguin loved the light in Guanabara bay
The composer Cole Porter loved the lights in its evening
The anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss hated Guanabara bay,
It looked to him like a toothless mouth
To me, less that I knew it, more I loved it
I´m blinded by its starry glow
What is a beatiful thing?
Love is blind
Ray Charles is blind
Stevie Wonder is blind
And the albino Hermeto (εννοεί τον Ερμέτο Πασκοάλ) can't really see very well.
A Whale, a soap-opera, one alaude (λαούτο βραζιλιάνικο) , one train?
A parrot?
But it was at the same time beatiful and toothless mouth the Guanabara bay.
In that have passed, pass and will pass one unique nightmare.
That I start to build here, always searching for the beauty and the bitter.
I didn't dream:
The Botafogo beach was rolling mat of white sand and diesel oil on my sneakers.
Sugar loaf was less obvious possible in front of me
One Sugar loaf with its unsuspected edges
The strong orange light against an almost no light, almost non purple
In the white of sand and the foams
That was all that there was in this dawn
On my back there are an old man with a hairy nose
And a very beautiful still teenager girl
I don't look back but I know everything
An inside out blind, like in the dreams, I see what I wish
But I don't wish to see the old man's black suit
Neither the girl's almost non purple teeth
(Think Seurat and think impressionist
this thing of a light in white tooth and wave,
but don't think surreal because this is another trend)
I hear the voices
Both of them are telling me
In a double sound
Like they've being sampled in a Sinclavier:
"Time has come to reeducate somebody"
Father, son, holy spirit, amem
The right is a crazy take electro-shock
The right is to know that the right is right
The adult white male always in charge
The rest is rest, the sex is the cut, the sex
Recognize the necessary value of a hypocritical act
Get rid of the native indians, and wait nothing from afro Brazilians/americans
Me, less foreigner in a place that now
I keep walking alone, walking against the wind
I understand the core of what they are saying
That guy and that other one(she)
It is an unmask
A simple cry:
"The king is naked"
But I wake up because everything is silent to the fact that the king is more beautifully naked
And I go and love the blue, the purple and the yellow
And between my going and of the sun's, one hoop, a link
("Some may like a soft brazilian singer
But I've given up all attempts at perfection")

--..Μεγαλούτσικη σήμερα η ανάρτηση, αλλά άξιζε τον κόπο..--