El extraño y alucinado universo de Danny MacGill

septiembre 8, 2009

Hey, boss (II): Incident on 57th street

Del segundo disco de Bruce The wild, the innocent and the E Street shuffle, donde la E Street Band ya toma un protagonismo claro, os dejo esta lúcida y delicada Incident on 57th street. Una historia de amor difícil, uno de esos temas que hizo que, en aquel entonces (1973) compararan al emergente rebelde de New Jersey con la leyenda viva Bob Dylan.

Esta versión es un directo de 1975, en una radio de Philadelphia. Y me gusta porque ya refleja el sonido, el sonido real, de Bruce y la E Street Band.

INCIDENT ON 57th STREET


Spanish Johnny drove in from the underworld last night
with bruised arms and broken rhythm and a beat-up old buick but dressed just like dynamite,
He tried sellin’ his heart to the hard girls over on Easy Street,
But they said, Johnny, it falls apart so easy and you know hearts these days are cheap.
And the pimps swung their axes and said, Johnny, you’re a cheater.
Well, the pimps swung their axes and said, Johnny, you’re a liar.
And from out of the shadows came a young girl’s voice, said: Johnny don’t cry.
Puertorican Jane, oh won’t you tell me what’s your name.
I want to drive you down to the other side of town
where paradise ain’t so crowded and there’ll be action goin’ down on Shanty Lane tonight
All the golden heeled fairies in a real bitch-fight pull thirty-eights and kiss their girls goodnight.

Goodnight, it’s alright, Jane
Now let them black boys into light the soul flame,
We may find it out on the street tonight, baby,
Or we may walk until the daylight, maybe.

Well, like a cool Romeo he made his moves, oh she looked so fine
Like a late Juliet she knew shed never be true but then she really didn’t mind,
Upstairs a band was playin’ and the singer was singin’ something about going home,
She whispered, Spanish Johnny, you can leave me tonight, but just don’t leave me alone.
And Johnny cried, Puertorican Jane, word is down the cops have found the vein.
Them bare foot boys left their homes for the woods
Them little barefoot street boys, they said their homes ain’t no good,
They left the corners, threw away their switchblade knives and kissed each other goodbye.

Johnny was sittin’ on the fire escape watchin the kids playin down the street,
He called down, hey little heroes, summer’s long but I guess it ain’t very sweet around here anymore,
Janey sleeps in sheets damp with sweat, Johnny sits up alone and watches her dream on, dream on,
And the sister prays for lost souls then breaks down in the chapel after everyones gone.
Jane moves over to share her pillow but opens her eyes to see Johnny up and putting his clothes on,
She says, those romantic young boys, all they ever want to do is fight,
Those romantic young boys, they’re callin through the window:
Hey, Spanish Johnny, you want to make a little easy money tonight?

And Johnny whispered, goodnight, it’s all tight jane,
I’ll meet you tomorrow night on Lovers’ Lane
We may find it out on the street tonight now baby
Or we may walk until the daylight, baby.
Goodnight, it’s alright Jane, I’m gonna meet you tomorrow night on lovers lane,
We can find it out on the street tonight, baby,
Or we may walk until its daylight, maybe.

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