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luís soares

Blog do escritor Luís Soares

Montage of Heck.

Poucos (mas bons) sabem que ando a escrever sobre música. Mais, para já, não digo mas depois de ler os diários do Kurt, gostava muito de ver este documentário abaixo. A questão é se alguém o vai comprar, distribuir, exibir em Portugal ou se será necessário encontrar outras formas de o ver. Agradecido.

Jim Carroll - 8 Fragments For Kurt Cobain

Genius is not a generous thing
In return it charges more interest than any amount of royalties can cover
And it resents fame
With bitter vengeance


Pills and powdres only placate it awhile
Then it puts you in a place where the planet's poles reverse
Where the currents of electricity shift


Your Body becomes a magnet and pulls to it despair and rotten teeth,
Cheese whiz and guns


Whose triggers are shaped tenderly into a false lust
In timeless illusion


The guitar claws kept tightening, I guess on your heart stem.
The loops of feedback and distortion, threaded right thru
Lucifer's wisdom teeth, and never stopped their reverbrating
In your mind


And from the stage
All the faces out front seemed so hungry
With an unbearably wholesome misunderstanding


From where they sat, you seemed so far up there
High and live and diving


And instead you were swamp crawling
Down, deeper
Until you tasted the Earth's own blood
And chatted with the Buzzing-eyed insects that heroin breeds


You should have talked more with the monkey
He's always willing to negotiate
I'm still paying him off...
The greater the money and fame
The slower the Pendulum of fortune swings


Your will could have sped it up...
But you left that in a plane
Because it wouldn't pass customs and immigration


Here's synchronicity for you:


Your music's tape was inside my walkman
When my best friend from summer camp
Called with the news about you


I listened them...
It was all there!
Your music kept cutting deeper and deeper valleys of sound
Less and less light
Until you hit solid rock


The drill bit broke
and the valley became
A thin crevice, impassible in time,
As time itself stopped.


And the walls became cages of brilliant notes
Pressing in...
That's how diamonds are made
And that's WHERE it sometimes all collapses
Down in on you


Then I translated your muttered lyrics
And the phrases were curious:
Like "incognito libido"
And "Chalk Skin Bending"


The words kept getting smaller and smaller
Separated from their music
Each letter spilled out into a cartridge
Which fit only in the barrel of a gun


And you shoved the barrel in as far as possible
Because that's where the pain came from
That's where the demons were digging


The world outside was blank
Its every cause was just a continuation
Of another unsolved effect


But Kurt...
Didn't the thought that you would never write another song
Another feverish line or riff
Make you think twice?
That's what I don't understand
Because it's kept me alive, above any wounds


If only you hadn't swallowed yourself into a coma in Roma...
You could have gone to Florence
And looked into the eyes of Bellinni or Rafael's Portraits


Perhaps inside them
You could have found a threshold back to beauty's arms
Where it all began...


No matter that you felt betrayed by her


That is always the cost
As Frank said,
Of a young artist's remorseless passion


Which starts out as a kiss
And follows like a curse