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Pain is something real, so wrenching and powerful it shakes the foundations of the soul and brings to light things better left dormant. Blues is its music, played by desperate souls, by those who do not long for a caress or a hug but only to tell their torment, to unload that burden that bends their bones and makes them scream in the night onto someone.
Robert Johnson, the bluesman par excellence, was born exactly one hundred years ago, in the distant 1911 in Hazlehurst (United States), and this collection once again aims to celebrate his legend, to inscribe once again on optical media those immortal tracks that have inspired, and still inspire, artists from all over the world, who have found in that strange voice and incredible guitar an inspiration or a path to follow, in order to express their life with music and give voice to their hearts. In the end, what are we all looking for? A job? Love? Financial security? Yes, for heaven's sake, these are all important things, but in the end, deep down, everyone just wants to be heard, not understood, because the mystery surrounding a man is so unfathomable that it is unknown even to the one living it. It is hard not to feel alone in a world that sometimes is either too fast for you or you are too ahead for it, so you scan the eyes of passersby looking for a light, a glimmer that makes you exclaim: "Wow, finally someone like me! Now I can talk, stop being silent!" But that light doesn’t always appear, in fact, most times you see nothing but the flashes of your own thoughts, and then you convince yourself that that's just how it works, no one cares about your story and your emotions, you can search and search but in the end, the prize is just a great pain in the legs and that physical exhaustion that leads to sleep, and hopefully dream. There is, however, another way of storytelling that is equally effective: listening. We are not the only wandering souls; there are many ready to unfold their stories, so why not listen to them? Why not let their words muffle those "hellhounds" that tear chunks of flesh from your bones every day, only to leave you on the ground alone and wounded? We should not take on the burden of others' pain, heaven forbid, we are already laden enough, but we can let it float, to look at it and perhaps understand and fight it.
But it's too hard to stop running, isn't it? As long as we run, the "dogs" can't bite us, or at least we want to believe so, since, anyway, at the end of the day they are there, hungry, and you are too tired to fight them, so you let them feast, closing your eyes and praying to sleep; the next day everything starts again, on the run again through the city's streets, already tired after just a couple of hours of fleeing. But if we desire a break, why don't we stop? Why, if someone offers us their refuge, do we run even faster? Maybe we see in others a reflection of ourselves, or we are so distrustful that we mistake a palace for a cold, dark cave, or maybe, more simply, slowing down means shortening too much the distance between us and our personal "bloodhounds."
"Hey, but you haven't talked about the album!" Oh, that's right! So: there are two CDs in a plastic case, accompanied by a nice booklet with pictures and explanatory notes. If you place one of the two optical discs in the player, you hear a man playing a guitar.
Tracklist and Lyrics
02 I Believe I'll Dust My Broom (03:02)
I'm gon' get up in the mornin', I believe I'll dust my broom
I'm gon' get up in the mornin', I believe I'll dust my broom
Girlfriend, the black man you been lovin', girlfriend, can get my room
I'm gon' write a letter, telephone every town I know
I'm gon' write a letter, telephone every town I know
If I can't find her in West Helena, she must be in East Monroe, I know
I don't want no woman, wants every downtown man she meet
I don't want no woman, wants every downtown man she meet
She's a no good doney, they shouldn't 'low her on the street
I believe, I believe I'll go back home
I believe, I believe I'll go back home
You can mistreat me here, babe, but you can't when I go home
And I'm gettin' up in the morning, I believe I'll dust my broom
And I'm gettin' up in the morning, I believe I'll dust my broom
Girlfriend, the black man that you been lovin', girlfriend, can get my room
I'm gon' call up Chiney, she is my good girl over there
I'm gon' call up Chiney, she is my good girl over there
If I can't find her on Philippine's Island, she must be in Ethiopia somewhere
03 Sweet Home Chicago (03:02)
Oh
Baby, don’t you want to go
Oh
Baby, don’t you want to go
Back to the land of California
To my sweet home Chicago
Oh
Baby, don’t you want to go
Oh
Baby, don’t you want to go
Back to the land of California
To my sweet home Chicago
Now one and one is two
Two and two is four
I’m heavy loaded baby
I’m booked, I gotta go
Cryin’, baby
Honey, don’t you want to go
Back to the land of California
To my sweet home Chicago
Now two and two is four
Four and two is six
You gon’ keep on monkeyin’ ‘round here friend-boy,
You gon’ get your
Business all in a trick
But I’m cryin’, baby
Honey, don’t you want to go
Back to the land of California
To my sweet home Chicago
Now six and two is eight
Eight and two is ten
Friend-boy, she trick you one time
She sure gon’ do it again
But I’m cryin’, baby
Honey, don’t you want to go
Back to the land of California
To my sweet home Chicago
I’m goin’ to California
From there to Des Moines, Iowa
Somebody will tell me that you
Need my help someday, cryin’
Hey, hey
Baby, don’t you want to go
Back to the land of California
To my sweet home Chicago
04 Ramblin' on My Mind (02:25)
I got ramblin', I got ramblin' on my mind
I got ramblin', I got ramblin' all on my mind
Hate to leave my baby, but you treats me so unkind
I got mean things, I got mean things all on my mind
Little girl, little girl, I got mean things all on my mind
Hate to leave you here, babe, but you treats me so unkind
Runnin' down to the station, catch the first mail train I see
(spoken: I think I hear her comin' now)
Runnin' down to the station, catch the old first mail train I see
I got the blues about Miss So-and-So and the child got the blues about me
And I'm leavin' this mornin', with my arm' fold' up and cryin'
And I'm leavin' this mornin', with my arm' fold' up and cryin'
Hate to leave my baby, but she treats me so unkind
I got mean things, I've got mean things on my mind
I got mean things, I got mean things all on my mind
I got to leave my baby, well, she treats me so unkind
06 Come On in My Kitchen (02:47)
Mmm... you better come on in my kitchen babe, it’s goin’ to be rainin’ outdoors
The woman I love, took from my best friend
Some joker got lucky, stole her back again
You better come on in my kitchen babe, it's goin' to be rainin' outdoors
Oh, she's gone, I know she won't come back
I've taken the last nickel out of her nation sack
You better come on in my kitchen, baby, it's goin' to be rainin' outdoors
(Spoken: Oh, can't you hear that wind howl?)
Can't you hear that wind howl?
You better come on in my kitchen, baby, it's goin' to be rainin' outdoors
When a woman gets in trouble, everybody throws her down
Lookin' for her good friend, none can't be found
You better come on in my kitchen, baby, it's goin' to be rainin' outdoors
Winter time's comin', it's goin' to be slow
You can make the winter, babe, that's dry long so
You better come on in my kitchen, 'cause it's goin' to be rainin' outdoors
07 Terraplane Blues (03:03)
Terraplane Blues
And I feel so lonesome, you hear me when I moan
When I feel so lonesome, you hear me when I moan
Who been drivin' my Terraplane1, for you since I been gone.
I'd said I flash your lights, mama, you horn won't even blow
(spoken: Somebody's been runnin' my batteries down on this machine)
I even flash my lights, mama, this horn won't even blow
Got a short in this connection, hoo well, babe, it's way down below
I'm gion' heist your hood, mama, I'm bound to check your oil
I'm goin' heist your hood, mama, mmm, I'm bound to check your oil
I got a woman that I'm lovin', way down in Arkansas
Now, you know the coils ain't even buzzin', little generator won't get the spark
Motor's in a bad condition, you gotta have these batteries charged
But I'm cryin', pleease, pleease don't do me wrong.
Who been drivin' my Terraplane1 now for, you since I been gone.
Mr. highway man, please don't block the road
Puh hee hee, please don't block the road
'Cause she's reachin' a cold one hundred and I'm booked and I got to go
Mmm mmm mmm mmm mmm
Yoo ooo ooo ooo, you hear me weep and moan
Who been drivin' my Terraplane1 now for, you since I been gone
I'm gon' get down in this connection, keep on tanglin' with your wires
I'm gon' get down in this connection, oh well, keep on tanglin' with these wires
And when I mash down on your little starter, then your spark plug will give me
fire
__________
Note 1: the Terraplane was a 1930's car model of the Hudson Motor Company, see a
picture and read more about it.
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