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luís soares

Blog do escritor Luís Soares

Patti Smith - For Sam Shepard

the murdered boy 
the murdered boy 
the murdered boy 

Oh I was bad 
didn't do what I should 
mama catch me with a lickin' 
and tell me to be good 
when I was bad twice times 
she pushed me in a hole 
and cut off all my fingers 
and laid them in a finger bowl 

My mother killed me 
my father grieved for me 
my little sister Alma Lee 
wept under the almond tree 

Oh I loved a car 
and when I was feeling sad 
I'd lay down on my daddie's ford 
and I'd start to feel good 
but I got real bad 
robbed hubcaps from the men 
and sold them to the women 
then stole them back again 
and you know when I was grown 
had hubcaps of my own 
and a Hudson Hornet car 
and rolled the pretty ladies 
and often went too far 

I went to Chicago 
I went to Kalamazu 
I slid down to Nashville 
raced in Tolkume 
I rode to Selenas 
rode by the sea 
but the people all scolded 
and pointed to me 
they said there's a bad boy 
I was so bad boy 
that they gathered their daughters 
I heard what they said 
stay away from him honey 
cause that boy is bad 
and though he's hung good 
and flashes that loot 
steer away from his highway 
he rides a wrong route 
cause he's a bad boy 
Yeah I was so bad boy 
my mama killed me 
my father grieved for me 
my little sister Alma Lee 
wept under the almond tree 

She Wept For Me 

And I wept on the stock car 
I crashed through the trees 
fenders hot as angels 
blazed inside me 
I captured the junkyards 
I jack knifed the cars 
and sped to the canyon 
but never hid far 
from the auto mechanics 
car wreckers 
den of thieves 
murderers greasers 
I worshiped these men 
but they hated me mom 
They called me mamas boy 
they screamed me to leave them 
they threatened to me then 
mom mom mom 
Mom Mom Mom 

Oh Monday at midnight 
til Tuesday at two 
drunk on tequila 
I was thinking of you mom 
I drove my car on mom 
My stock car was blazing 
wrecking cars was my art 
I held a picture of you ma 
close to my heart 
I rode closed window 
it was 90 degrees 
the croud was screaming 
screaming at me they hated me 
they said I was nonsense 
true diver chicken driver 
no sence 

But I couldn't hear them 
I couldn't see 
those fenders hot as angels 
blazed inside me 
I sped on lined with speed and heat 
and mama I cracked up with the croud at my feet 
I rolled in flames rolled in a pit 
where you laid me out with a tire iron 
and shot me with your shit 

And I could've got up 
bur the croud it screamed no 
That boy is evil 
too bad for parole 
so bad his mama 
rolled him in a hole 
and cut off all his fingers 
and laid them in a finger bowl 

His mother killed him 
His father grieved for him 
His little sister Alma Lee 
wept under the almond tree 

People Have The Power

Patti Smith's official music video for 'People Have The Power'.


I was dreamin' in my dreamin'
Of an aspect bright and fair
And my sleepin' it was broken
But my dream it lingered near

In the form of shinin' valleys
Where the pure air recognized
Oh, and my senses newly opened
And I awakened to the cry

And the people have the power
To redeem the work of fools
From the meek the graces shower
It's decreed the people rule

People have the power
People have the power
People have the power
People have the power

Patti Smith reads Oscar Wilde

Singer and artist Patti Smith reads from Oscar Wilde’s 100-page letter De Profundis, which he wrote during his two-year incarceration in Reading Prison.

For the first time this notorious prison has opened to the public where artists, writers, performers and ex-prisoners have been responding to the work of Wilde and the environment of the prison itself.

Exhibition curated by Artangel.

Patti Smith lê Álvaro de Campos

"Saudação a Walt Whitman” / “Salutation to Walt Whitman” de / by Álvaro de Campos por /by Patti Smith from Cecília Folgado on Vimeo.

Em visita à Casa Fernando Pessoa (Lisboa, 21 de Setembro de 2015), Patti Smith lê excerto do poema "Saudação a Walt Whitman”de / by Álvaro de Campos (tradução de Richard Zenith).
Patti Smith reads “Salutation to Walt Whitman” by Álvaro de Campos (translated by Richard Zenith) whilst visiting Casa Fernando Pessoa (21 September 2015).

Discursos para Lou Reed.

Laurie Anderson:


Thank you all. It’s wonderful to be here in Cleveland, and Lou would've loved this. He's here with his heroes — Otis and Dean. He’s here with B.B. King, who he loved and admired. Aretha, who he saw so many times. His dear friend, Doc Pomus, who taught him so much and with who he sang to in his beautiful record Magic and Loss. Of course, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is the place where the names of great musicians become completely magic words – Buddy Holly, Little Richard, the Coasters. And now, Lou Reed is one of those magic words.
Lou’s songs are full of life and complexity, and they’re about people who have names. Candy and Caroline, Little Joe and Junior Dad and the man. So, now, they’re all here, too. The people from his imagination along with his serious rock & roll groove. Like he said, "Despite all amputation, you can still dance to a rock & roll station. And it was all right."
Lou really knew the difference between himself as a writer and himself a person and as a rock & roll star. He’d shift between his rolls with such skill. He could take his fame off like one of his leather jackets, or, he could just decide to use it. The fame, itself, was heavily important. Lou’s genuinely proud of what he’d done and could really appreciate his own work. And, tonight, he would have been so immensely proud to be a part of this.
Lou loved musicians. He played with so many — Ornette [Coleman], [Luciano] Pavarotti, Metallica. He brought Jimmy Scott back out into the light and his early champion supporter, Etienne. He had a really big talent for friendship, and he had so many friends — Hal Willner, Julian Schnabel, Bob Ezrin, Doc Pomus, John Zorn, Bill Bentley, Tony Visconti. And Lou loved hearing new music. He and his friend, the encyclopedic and fantastical Hal Willner, had a radio show called New York Shuffle, which was all about featuring new music and new bands.
In the last year and a half, I’ve heard from literally hundreds of people, and they’ve said how much Lou has changed their lives, pushing them towards something, pushing them to be better. Recently a guitar player told me about the time when she was playing with Lou onstage, and it was some kind of benefit with lots of people stepping out and doing solos. Like many musicians, like Lou, she was nervous about what he had to say about her playing. She stepped out and did her solo and she thought it was pretty good, and after she passed him onstage and said "So?" And he said, "Is that all you’ve got?" She couldn’t believe he said that. She was really frustrated and an hour later, she did another solo, and this time she just stepped on it. And she passed him by again, and he said, "That’s what I’m talking about."
Lou is a wunderkind. He loved gear, he loved good sound. He was a photographer; he was an inventor; he was a warrior of tai chi. He was a great dancer. He could take watches apart and put them back together. He was kind; he was hilarious; he was never, ever cynical. Lou was my best friend, and he was also the person I admire most in the world. In the 21 years we were together, there were a few times I was mad, and there were a few times I was frustrated, but I was never, ever bored. We were touring musicians, and we often had to be apart.
Recently, a musician friend was telling me that he and his girlfriend were on the road so much that he decided not to live anywhere at all. I said, "How do you do that? Isn’t that disorienting not to have a place anywhere?" And he said, "She is my home." I realized that was what it was like for me and Lou. It just didn’t really matter where we were. Lou loved his sister Merrill and her family. He loved and admired his Aunt Shirley, who's also known as "Red Shirley," who was the subject of his film. He was also a radical innovator and an artist right up until the end of his life. He made groundbreaking work like the live versions of Metal Machine Music.
One of his last projects was his album with Metallica. And this was really challenging, and I have a hard time with it. There are many struggles and so much radiance. And after Lou's death, David Bowie made a big point of saying to me, "Listen, this is Lou’s greatest work; this is his masterpiece. Just wait, it will be like Berlin. It will take everyone a while to catch up." I've been reading the lyrics and it is so fierce. It's written by a man who understood fear and rage and venom and terror and revenge and love. And it is raging. Anyone heard Lou sing "Junior Dad" will never forget the experience of that song, torn out of the Bible. This was rock & roll taken to whole new levels.
Lou understood pain and he understood beauty. And he knew that these two were often intertwined and that was what energized him. In this duality between yin and yang, he was also in tai chi and he was a tai chi master and he had the most beautiful meditation master of tai chi all over the world. As meditators and students of Buddhism, for many years we often talked about the advice of our Buddhist teacher, which had become central for our lives. One of the things our teacher told us — and something we tried very hard to learn — was this, he said, "You should try to practice how to feel sad without actually being sad," which is really hard to do, how to feel sad without actually being sad.
As I said, Lou taught me a lot about growth, and I found out what it is to love and to be completely loved in return. This will be a part of me for the rest of my life. It's also something that changes you forever, to have the love of your life die in your arms. And when Lou died in mine, I watched as he did tai chi with his hands, and I watched with joy and surprise that came over his face as he had died, and I became less afraid. One more thing he taught me. It crosses my mind every hour. It seems like after a year and a half, I'm still waiting for him to call, and sometimes he actually does call. And suddenly I remember one of his phrases or some random words or songs he made up, and I'm reminded also the three rules we came up with, rules to live by. And I’m just going to tell you what they are because they come really handy, because things happen so fast, it's always good to have with you, like patchworks to fall back on.
And the first is, one: Don’t be afraid of anyone. Now can you imagine living your life afraid of no one? Two: Get a really good bullshit detector. And three: Three is be really, really tender. And with those three things, you don't need anything else. For people with experience when their partners die, you’re compelled into a magical world where you fully understand many things that were complete mysteries up to that point. And so funnily, I see how people can turn into legs, and turn into music, and eventually turn into other people, and how fluid these bones are. And that's what the Hall of Fame to me is all about, the transformation of people who took names that stand in beauty and style.
They say you die three times. The first is when your heart stops, and the second is when you’re buried or cremated. And the third is the last time someone says your name. I am so happy that Lou’s name is added to the list of people who will be remembered for the beautiful music that they made. Lou, my sweet lover, I love your last song, "The Power of the Heart." You know me, I like to dream a lot. Of what there is and what there’s not. But mainly, I dream of you a lot. The power of the heart, the power of the heart. I accept this in your name. One more Lou.


Patti Smith:


Hello everybody. On October 27th, 2013, I was at Rockaway Beach, and I got the message that Lou Reed had passed. It was a solitary moment. I was by myself, and I thought of him by the ocean, and I got on the subway back to New York City. It was a 55-minute ride, and in that 55 minutes, when I returned to New York City, it was as if the whole city had transformed. People were crying on the streets. I could hear Lou's voice coming from every café. Everyone was playing his music. Everyone was walking around dumbfounded. Strangers came up to me and hugged me. The boy who made me coffee was crying. It was the whole city. It was more [Pauses] Sorry. I realized, at that moment, that I had forgotten, when I was on the subway, that he was not only my friend, he was the friend of New York City.
I made my first eye contact with Lou dancing to the Velvet Underground when they were playing upstairs at Max’s Kansas City in the summer of 1970. The Velvet Underground were great to dance to because they had this sort of transformative, like a surf beat. Like a dissonant surf beat. They were just fantastic to dance to. And then somewhere along the line, Lou and I became friends. It was a complex friendship, sometimes antagonistic and sometimes sweet. Lou would sometimes emerge from the shadows at CBGBs. If I did something good, he would praise me. If I made a false move, he would break it down.
One night, when we were touring, separately, we wound up in the same hotel, and I got a call from him, and he asked me to come to his room. He sounded a little dark, so I was a little nervous. But I went up, and the door was open, and I found him in the bathtub dressed in black. So I sat on the toilet and listened to him talk. It seemed like he talked for hours, and he talked about, well, all kinds of things. He spoke compassionately about the struggles of those who fall between genders. He spoke of pre-CBS Fender amplifiers and political corruption. But most of all, he talked about poetry. He recited the great poets — Rupert Brooke, Hart Crane, Frank O’Hara. He spoke of the poets' loneliness and of the poets' dedication to the highest muses. When he fell into silence, I said, "Please, take care of yourself, so the world can have you as long as it can." And Lou actually smiled.
Everything that Lou taught me, I remember. He was a humanist, heralding and raising the downtrodden. His subjects were his royalty that he crowned in lyrics without judgment or irony. He gave us, beyond the Velvet Underground, Transformer and "Walk on the Wild Side," Berlin, meditations to New York, homages to Poe and his mentor Andy Warhol and Magic and Loss.
His consciousness infiltrated and illuminated our cultural voice. Lou was a poet, able to fold his poetry within his music in the most poignant and plainspoken manner. Oh, such a perfect day. Sorry. [Crying] Such a perfect day. I’m glad I spent it with you. You made me forget myself. I thought I was someone else. Someone good. You were good, Lou. You are good.
True poets must often stand alone. As a poet, he must be counted as a solitary artist. And so, Lou, thank you for brutally and benevolently injecting your poetry into music. And for this, we welcome you, Lou Reed, into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Soundwalk Collective - Killer Road (with Patti Smith)

Killer Road is a sound exploration of Nico's tragic death while riding her bike on the island of Ibiza. A hypnotic meditation on the idea of perpetual motion and the cycle of life and death, the composition features the unique voice of Patti Smith whispering Nico's last poems and Nico's signature instrument, the harmonium.
The sound production features the participation of Stefan Betke - aka Pole (~Scape).