O Bardo

É o meu artista! Assim, sem preferidos nem meio-preferidos. Não há, para mim, universo mais atractivo, assombroso e cativante do que o que Tom Waits construiu ao longo de três décadas. Um universo demasiado complexo e retorcido para que eu possa aqui dissertar sobre ele. Só ouvindo a voz deste homem, um misto de bourbon e tabaco concentrado com vidro esmigalhado, se poderá realmente entender a força que ele coloca em cada uma das suas composições. Só lendo atentamente as suas histórias, contos de demência, deboche e criaturas soturnas - verdadeiros freak-shows - poderemos abraçar toda a imaginação pulsante e brilhante deste senhor, meio ermita, que infelizmente já quase desistiu de dar concertos.

Apesar de tantos ambientes soturnos e degradantes, o Senhor consegue, como ninguém, aliá-los com uma estranha doçura, quase infantil. E quando assim é, arranca-me lágrimas com enorme facilidade.
Quando estive em Nova Iorque fiz uma «peregrinação» ao local onde Tom passava dias a fio, bêbado como humanamente seria impossivel, em busca da (aparentemente fácil) inspiração para escrever as suas histórias. O Empire Dinner. Senti-me em casa.
Entendam:

The piano has been drinking
My necktie's asleep
The combo went back to New York, and left me all alone
The jukebox has to take a leak
Have you noticed that the carpet needs a haircut?
And the spotlight looks just like a prison break
And the telephone's out of cigarettes
As usual the balcony's on the make
And the piano has been drinking, heavily
The piano has been drinking
And he's on the hard stuff tonight
The piano has been drinking
And you can't find your waitress
Even with the Geiger counter
And I guarantee you that she will hate you
From the bottom of her glass
And all of your friends remind you
That you just can't get served without her
The piano has been drinking
The piano has been drinking
And the lightman's blind in one eye
And he can't see out of the other
And the piano-tuner's got a hearing aid
And he showed up with his mother
And the piano has been drinking
Without fear of contradiction I say
The piano has been drinking
Our Father who art in?
Hallowed by thy glass
Thy kindom come, thy will be done
On Earth as it is in the lounges
Give us this day our daily splash
Forgive us our hangovers
As we forgive all those who continue to hangover against us
And lead us not into temptation
But deliver from evil and someone you must all ride home
Because the piano has been drinking
And he's your friend not mine
Because the piano has been drinking
And he's not my responsibility
The bouncer is this Sumo wrestler
Kinda cream puff casper milk toast
And the owner is just a mental midget
With the I.Q. of a fencepost
I'm going down, hang onto me, I'm going down
Watch me skate across an acre of linoleum
I know I can do it,
I'm in total control
And the piano has been drinking
And he's embarassing me
The piano has been drinking, he raided his mini bar
The piano has been drinking
And the bar stools are all on fire
And all the newspapers were just fooling
And the ash-trays have retired
And I've got a feeling that the piano has been drinking
It's just a hunch
The piano has been drinking and he's going to lose his lunch
And the piano has been drinking
Not me, not me,
The piano has been drinking not me