miércoles, 17 de marzo de 2010

Deadbeats Poets

MADRAS MAN


En el acto cotidiano de abrir el correo y ver como las cartas digitales caen en un buzón que no es tal, un remitente llama mi atención de manera especial, mi amigo Frank Secich me cuenta como va la grabación del nuevo disco de su banda. Frank que como bien sabrán los lectores de este blog fué parte de los impresionantes Blue Ash, para años más tarde formar parte del proyecto en solitario de Stiv Bators con otro disco básico de los 80’s (al menos en mi vida), como fué “Disconnected”, para incluso a posteriori, tocar con los Dead Boys. De unos años a esta parte se encuentra plenamente entregado a los Deadbeats Poets que ya están terminando su segundo disco en el cual las canciones de pop brillan de manera especial como percibo tras escuchar los primeros esbozos de temas como “The Staircase Stomp!" que me tienen tan ilusionado como lo están los mismísimos Poets.
Fué anoche al escuchar el resultado final de este “Madras Man” al compartir impresiones y emociones con algún que otro colaborador especial de este blog, tocado también por la “magia Secich”, afianzando los vértices, encajando de nuevo los lados de un tríángulo de imposible definición, cuando una invisible e irreverente sonrisa es dibujada por las melodías de las doce cuerdas, un órgano que revive los discos de Dylan y guiños continuos a trabajos de Paul Collins en un tema largo pero que engancha de manera envolvente a medida que suena … y vuelvo a confiar de pleno en las composiciones de este amigo, de este gran músico que tanto me ha dado en estos últimos años, aunque ni él mismo sea consciente de ello. (M&Okotj-2010)




MADRAS MAN (A Blues In Three/Four Time)
(Frank Secich)


I was walking on my hands
On the rail of the Oakland Avenue Bridge
A dream fell from my pocket and
Sailed west over the Ohio ridge
I looked up at Highway 62 below
I saw a small dust devil up and blow
Around a pile of Autumn leaves into a perfect cameo of
Madras Man and the Herringbone
Girl of his dreams but she and her
Madras Man were about to come apart at the seams

I saw Sherlock Holmes with a magnifying glass
He said "I have recovered your dream"
In an overgrown field called Circustown
With burgundy buildings made of corrugated steel
A trap door opened, someone hit me from behind
The next I know I'm on my way to Shanghai
The crew were keel-hauling.... an albatross
They already had a fire and some barbecue sauce
When they saw
Madras Man but the image did not compute
What looked so much like
Madras Man all decked out in a houndstooth diving suit

I took the lure of the carnival
The "Scrambler" and the "Tilt-A-Whirl"
On the midway I heard a barker call
It was Robert Preston, he was 30 feet tall
I paid the fee but was a little uncertain
Then was struck in awe when they opened the curtain
Revealing Madras Man wearing Chinese finger cuffs
A sad weeping Madras Man crying Paisley tears into a cup


The gypsy girl said "I'm here to warn ya
To stay away from that girl from California"
I said "don't know what you're talkin' bout..I've never been there"
She said "you will to both so you'd better beware"
Through the back of my head
I saw her shivering and crying
As I was overcome by Mohair and wine
Just when I thought that all was good and fine
I saw Madras Man out there lying in the west coast sun
Most definitely Madras Man doing something that he never should have done


Just when things could not get more out of hand
I put a cherry bomb in your garbage can
The sound was heard for a mile or two
Damaged the garbage in the process too
A reporter was called there was nothing left to chance
In his MacIntosh coat and matching continental pants
He got real excited, did a holy roller dance
Took out a highlighter that he shoplifted in France
With no warning in advance went into a trance
Wound up like Bobby Shantz
Then he brought the heat and
Threw it at Madras Man who jumped out of his nailed on shoes
A mound charging Madras Man, halfway home
With a broken banjo playing a three four time blues