Invitation to the blues - Tom Waits

 

 

Hace tiempo que quería volver al blog, y por volver hubiera vuelto con cualquier monserga de ritmo por encargo y letra pegadiza para hacer chillar a un par de adolescentes,  pero no. Quiero volver a lo grande.  

 

Quiero una canción con una devastadora melodía que distorsione la realidad y lo vuelva todo opaco, penumbroso, como llovizna de madrugada en una cansada estación de buses, desolada y mal iluminada, con algunos carros abandonados y derruidos, con una cafetería que apesta a cigarro, atendida por una mesera ojerosa de delantal sucio, corazón roto y sueños perdidos, con clientes de zapatos rotos y mojados que de buena gana se largarían de ahí si tuvieran a dónde ir. 

 

Quiero una atmósfera que invada y contamine el mundo con su apatía y su pesadumbre, y nos haga pensar que es una verdadera calamidad estar vivo escuchando esta canción, y nos cierre de un portazo la esperanza encontrar una sonrisa en el bolsillo para ponérnosla de afán mientras pedimos otro café, muy cargado y sin azúcar, a la espera del bus que parta para quién sabe donde y dormir contra la ventana para ahorrarse lo del hotel.  Quiero con una letra que invite a apostar la vida a los números perdedores solo para acabar de una vez por todas con todo esto.

 

Por  eso escojo a Tom Waits, hoy acepto su invitación al Blues.

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Invitation to the blues - Tom Waits

Well she's up against the register with an apron and a spatula,
Yesterday's deliveries, tickets for the bachelors
She's a moving violation from her conk down to her shoes,
Well, it's just an invitation to the blues

And you feel just like Cagney, she looks like Rita Hayworth
At the counter of the Schwab's drugstore
You wonder if she might be single, she's a loner and likes to mingle
Got to be patient, try and pick up a clue

She said "How you gonna like 'em, over medium or scrambled?",
You say "Anyway's the only way", be careful not to gamble
On a guy with a suitcase and a ticket getting out of here
It's a tired bus station and an old pair of shoes
This ain't nothing but an invitation to the blues

But you can't take your eyes off her, get another cup of java,
It's just the way she pours it for you, joking with the customers
Mercy mercy, Mr. Percy, there ain't nothing back in Jersey
But a broken-down jalopy of a man I left behind
And the dream that I was chasing, and a battle with booze
And an open invitation to the blues

But she used to have a sugar daddy and a candy-apple Caddy,
And a bank account and everything, accustomed to the finer things
He probably left her for a socialite, and he didn't 'cept at night,
And then he's drunk and never even told her that her cared
So they took the registration, and the car-keys and her shoes
And left her with an invitation to the blues

'Cause there's a Continental Trailways leaving local bus tonight, good evening
You can have my seat, I'm sticking round here for a while
Get me a room at the Squire, the filling station's hiring,
And I can eat here every night, what the hell have I got to lose?
Got a crazy sensation, go or stay? now I gotta choose,
And I'll accept your invitation to the blues



Para resaltar:
what the hell have I got to lose?
I'll accept your invitation to the blues