El cheque de papá.
El reflejo en las canciones. Una realidad social de la clase trabajadora.
Coincidencias. De eso se trata, de buscar coincidencias. Una vez aprendí que en una investigación periodística, al momento de recopilar todo el material de las entrevistas, lo que se busca son testimonios coincidentes que refuercen la idea de lo que se quiere transmitir.
Lo que aquí me ocupa es una coincidencia acerca de un hecho muy simple y a la vez muy contundente. Siempre me interesó explorar el mensaje en las canciones; algunas son tristes, melancólicas, otras crean conciencia, educan, otras son simplemente melodiosas.
En esta exploración, que no se limita a escuchar, sino a hacer un pequeño esfuerzo adicional y tratar de descifrar el contenido, he encontrado un mensaje que me ayudó a entender una realidad social.
Bob Dylan escribió en el año 1974 “Tangled Up In Blue”, una de sus más emblemáticas canciones. Jeff Tweedy, integrante del grupo Wilco, es el compositor de la canción “She’s a Jar” del año 1999. Dos autores dando un mensaje relacionado con la clase trabajadora de los Estados Unidos.
Dylan, en una especie de autobiografía, expresa en la citada canción que no le gustaba el vestido a medida de su mamá y que el dinero en la cuenta de banco de su papá no era suficiente para afrontar los gastos de la familia: “Papa’s bankbook wasn’t big enough”.
“She’s a Jar” describe una traumática relación familiar, con una frase en la que el autor, a modo de conclusión, expresa que “Yo creo que todo esto sucedía porque el pago de papá no era suficiente” según la traducción del inglés: “I believe it’s just because Daddy’s payday is not enough”
Teniendo en cuenta la idea que inspiró a estos autores, el contexto histórico y el período comprendido entre la creación de las canciones, podemos pensar que la lucha de la clase trabajadora ha sido una constante a través del tiempo; las frases citadas hacen referencia a la subsistencia de los trabajadores estadounidenses y el impacto en sus familias.
Tradicionalmente desde otros países de América Latina se observaba el norte como fuente de riqueza y esplendor. Lo valioso de estos textos es que han contribuido a crear una conciencia o a entender una realidad quizás desconocida, sobre todo en una época en la que no había mucha información excepto una difusión cultural destinada a mostrar solo una parte de la realidad.
Tangled Up In Blue
Written by: Bob Dylan
Early one mornin’ the sun was shinin’
I was layin’ in bed
Wond’rin’ if she’d changed at all
If her hair was still red
Her folks they said our lives together
Sure was gonna be rough
They never did like Mama’s homemade dress
Papa’s bankbook wasn’t big enough
And I was standin’ on the side of the road
Rain fallin’ on my shoes
Heading out for the East Coast
Lord knows I’ve paid some dues gettin’ through
Tangled up in blue
She was married when we first met
Soon to be divorced
I helped her out of a jam, I guess
But I used a little too much force
We drove that car as far as we could
Abandoned it out West
Split up on a dark sad night
Both agreeing it was best
She turned around to look at me
As I was walkin’ away
I heard her say over my shoulder
“We’ll meet again someday on the avenue”
Tangled up in blue
I had a job in the great north woods
Working as a cook for a spell
But I never did like it all that much
And one day the ax just fell
So I drifted down to New Orleans
Where I happened to be employed
Workin’ for a while on a fishin’ boat
Right outside of Delacroix
But all the while I was alone
The past was close behind
I seen a lot of women
But she never escaped my mind, and I just grew
Tangled up in blue
She was workin’ in a topless place
And I stopped in for a beer
I just kept lookin’ at the side of her face
In the spotlight so clear
And later on as the crowd thinned out
I’s just about to do the same
She was standing there in back of my chair
Said to me, “Don’t I know your name?”
I muttered somethin’ underneath my breath
She studied the lines on my face
I must admit I felt a little uneasy
When she bent down to tie the laces of my shoe
Tangled up in blue
She lit a burner on the stove
And offered me a pipe
“I thought you’d never say hello,” she said
“You look like the silent type”
Then she opened up a book of poems
And handed it to me
Written by an Italian poet
From the thirteenth century
And every one of them words rang true
And glowed like burnin’ coal
Pourin’ off of every page
Like it was written in my soul from me to you
Tangled up in blue
I lived with them on Montague Street
In a basement down the stairs
There was music in the cafés at night
And revolution in the air
Then he started into dealing with slaves
And something inside of him died
She had to sell everything she owned
And froze up inside
And when finally the bottom fell out
I became withdrawn
The only thing I knew how to do
Was to keep on keepin’ on like a bird that flew
Tangled up in blue
So now I’m goin’ back again
I got to get to her somehow
All the people we used to know
They’re an illusion to me now
Some are mathematicians
Some are carpenters’ wives
Don’t know how it all got started
I don’t know what they’re doin’ with their lives
But me, I’m still on the road
Headin’ for another joint
We always did feel the same
We just saw it from a different point of view
Tangled up in blue
She’s a Jar
Songwriters: Jay Bennett / Jeff Tweedy. By Wilco
She’s a jar
With a heavy lid
My pop quiz kid
A sleepy kisser
A pretty war
With feelings hid
She begs me not to miss her
She says forever
To light a fuse
We could use
A hand full of wheel
And a day off
And a bruised road
However you might feel
Tonight is real
When I forget how to talk, I sing
won’t you please
Bring that flash to shine
And turn my eyes red
Unless they close
When you click
And my face gets sick
Stuck
Like a question unposed
Just climb aboard
The tracks of a trains arm
In my fragile family tree
And watch me floating inches above
The people under me
Please beware the quiet front yard
I warned you
Before there were water skies
I warned you not to drive
Dry your eyes, you poor devil
Are there really ones like these?
The ones I dream
Float like leaves
And freeze to spread skeleton wings
I passed through before I knew you
I believe it’s just because
Daddy’s payday is not enough
Oh, I believe it’s all because
Daddy’s payday is not enough
Just climb aboard
The tracks of a trains arm
In my fragile family tree
And watch me floating inches above
The people under me
She’s a jar
With a heavy lid
My pop quiz kid
A sleepy kisser
A pretty war
With feelings hid
You know she begs me not to hit her
Muy bueno el articulo e interesante.