Gillian Welch and David Rawlings fazem música caipira americana de montanha, típica do norte montanhoso e extemamente pobre da região sul dos EUA, sul que é aliás o berço de quase tudo que presta em cultura popular americana. Fazem esse tipo de música sem espírito "conservacionista" que quer "preservar" [em formol] o estilo, muito menos nem o espírito "mudernizador" [com u mesmo], que significa basicamente passar gel no cabelo, usar um terninho e uma montanha de sintetizadores cafonas. A idéia desses dois é outra; é fazer essa Mountain Music acreditando no potencial que ela tem, sem pensar que ela precisa ser "resgatada" ou pasteurizada. Deixo aqui o link de uma das melhores canções deles, uma "Murder Ballad", que sempre tem uma letra comprida contando uma história, sempre a história de um assassinato. Reconheço que muita gente torceria o nariz, mas só por fugir do quarteto onipresente das FM [cama, ama, dor, amor] já merece uma chance [Clique no link do título abaixo para ouvir/ver os dois tocando essa canção ao vivo]
Caleb Meyer
Caleb Meyer, he lived alone
In them hollerin' pines
Then he made a little whiskey for himself
Said it helped pass the time
Long one evening in back of my house,
Caleb come around
And he called my name 'til I went out
with no one else around
Caleb Meyer, your ghost is gonna
wear them rattlin' chains.
but when I go to sleep at night,
Don't you call my name
Where's your husband, Nellie Kane
Where's your darlin gone?
Did he go down off the mountain side
and leave you all alone?
Yes, my husband's gone to Bowlin' Green
to do some business there.
Then Caleb threw that bottle down
and grabbed me by my hair.
Caleb Meyer, your ghost is gonna
wear them rattlin' chains.
but when I go to sleep at night,
Don't you call my name
He threw me in the needle bed,
across my dress he lay
then he pinned my hands above my head
and I commenced to pray.
I cried My God, I am your child
send your angels down
Then feelin' with my fingertips,
the bottle neck I found
I drew that glass across his neck
as fine as any blade,
and I felt his blood pour fast and hot
around me where I laid.
Caleb Meyer, your ghost is gonna
wear them rattlin' chains.
But when I go to sleep at night,
Don't you call my name
Caleb Meyer, your ghost is gonna
wear them rattlin' chains.
But when I go to sleep at night,
Don't you call my name
Caleb Meyer
Caleb Meyer, he lived alone
In them hollerin' pines
Then he made a little whiskey for himself
Said it helped pass the time
Long one evening in back of my house,
Caleb come around
And he called my name 'til I went out
with no one else around
Caleb Meyer, your ghost is gonna
wear them rattlin' chains.
but when I go to sleep at night,
Don't you call my name
Where's your husband, Nellie Kane
Where's your darlin gone?
Did he go down off the mountain side
and leave you all alone?
Yes, my husband's gone to Bowlin' Green
to do some business there.
Then Caleb threw that bottle down
and grabbed me by my hair.
Caleb Meyer, your ghost is gonna
wear them rattlin' chains.
but when I go to sleep at night,
Don't you call my name
He threw me in the needle bed,
across my dress he lay
then he pinned my hands above my head
and I commenced to pray.
I cried My God, I am your child
send your angels down
Then feelin' with my fingertips,
the bottle neck I found
I drew that glass across his neck
as fine as any blade,
and I felt his blood pour fast and hot
around me where I laid.
Caleb Meyer, your ghost is gonna
wear them rattlin' chains.
But when I go to sleep at night,
Don't you call my name
Caleb Meyer, your ghost is gonna
wear them rattlin' chains.
But when I go to sleep at night,
Don't you call my name
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