No dia em que completaria 70 anos, trago-vos o elogio fúnebre que Bruce Springsteen fez ao Big Man…. Clarence Clemons!

EKL!

I’ve been sitting here listening to everyone talk about Clarence and staring at that photo of the two of us right there.  It’s a picture of Scooter and The Big Man, people who we were sometimes.  As you can see in this particular photo, Clarence is admiring his muscles and I’m pretending to be nonchalant while leaning upon him.  I leaned on Clarence a lot; I made a career out of it in some ways.

Those of us who shared Clarence’s life, shared with him his love and his confusion.   Though "C" mellowed with age, he was always a wild and unpredictable ride.  Today I see his sons Nicky, Chuck, Christopher and Jarod sitting here and I see in them the reflection of a lot of C’s qualities. I see his light, his darkness, his sweetness, his roughness, his gentleness, his anger, his brilliance, his handsomeness, and his goodness.  But, as you boys know your pop was a not a day at the beach.  "C" lived a life where he did what he wanted to do and he let the chips, human and otherwise, fall where they may. Like a lot of us your pop was capable of great magic and also of making quite an amazing mess.  This was just the nature of your daddy and my beautiful friend.  Clarence’s unconditional love, which was very real, came with a lot of conditions.  Your pop was a major project and always a work in progress.   "C" never approached anything linearly, life never proceeded in a straight line. He never went  A… B…. C…. D.  It was always A… J…. C…. Z… Q… I….!  That was the way Clarence lived and made his way through the world.  I know that can lead to a lot of confusion and hurt, but your father also carried a lot of love with him, and I know he loved each of you very very dearly. 

It took a village to take care of Clarence Clemons.  Tina, I’m so glad you’re here.  Thank you for taking care of my friend, for loving him.  Victoria, you’ve been a loving, kind and caring wife to Clarence and you made a huge difference in his life at a time when the going was not always easy. To all of "C’s" vast support network, names too numerous to mention, you know who you are and we thank you. Your rewards await you at the pearly gates.  My pal was a tough act but he brought things into your life that were unique and when he turned on that love light, it illuminated your world.  I was lucky enough to stand in that light for almost 40 years, near Clarence’s heart, in the Temple of Soul.

So a little bit of history: from the early days when Clarence and I traveled together, we’d pull up to the evenings lodgings and within minutes "C" would transform his room into a world of his own.  Out came the colored scarves to be draped over the lamps, the scented candles, the incense, the patchouli oil, the herbs, the music, the day would be banished, entertainment would come and go, and Clarence the Shaman would reign and work his magic night, after night.  Clarence’s ability to enjoy Clarence was incredible.  By 69, he’d had a good run, because he’d already lived about 10 lives, 690 years in the life of an average man.  Every night, in every place, the magic came flying out of C’s suitcase.  As soon as success allowed, his dressing room would take on the same trappings as his hotel room until a visit there was like a trip to a sovereign nation that had just struck huge oil reserves.  "C" always knew how to live.  Long before Prince was out of his diapers, an air of raunchy mysticism ruled in the Big Man’s world.  I’d wander in from my dressing room, which contained several fine couches and some athletic lockers, and wonder what I was doing wrong! Somewhere along the way all of this was christened the Temple of Soul; and "C" presided smilingly over its secrets, and its pleasures.  Being allowed admittance to the Temple’s wonders was a lovely thing. 

As a young child my son Sam became enchanted with the Big Man… no surprise.  To a child Clarence was a towering fairy tale figure, out of some very exotic storybook.  He was a dreadlocked giant, with great hands and a deep mellifluous voice sugared with kindness and regard.  And… to Sammy, who was just a little white boy, he was deeply and mysteriously black.  In Sammy’s eyes, "C" must have appeared as all of the African continent, shot through with American cool, rolled into one welcoming and loving figure.  So… Sammy decided to pass on my work shirts and became fascinated by Clarence’s suits and his royal robes.  He declined a seat in dad’s van and opted for "C’s" stretch limousine, sitting by his side on the slow cruise to the show.  He decided dinner in front of the hometown locker just wouldn’t do, and he’d saunter up the hall and disappear into the Temple of Soul.

 Of course, also enchanted was Sam’s dad, from the first time I saw my pal striding out of the shadows of a half empty bar in Asbury Park, a path opening up before him; here comes my brother, here comes my sax man, my inspiration, my partner, my lifelong friend.  Standing next to Clarence was like standing next to the baddest ass on the planet.  You were proud, you were strong, you were excited and laughing with what might happen, with what together, you might be able to do.  You felt like no matter what the day or the night brought, nothing was going to touch you.   Clarence could be fragile but he also emanated power and safety,  and in some funny way we became each other’s protectors; I think perhaps I protected "C" from a world where it still wasn’t so easy to be big and black.  Racism was ever present and over the years together, we saw it.  Clarence’s celebrity and size did not make him immune.  I think perhaps "C" protected me from a world where it wasn’t always so easy to be an insecure, weird and skinny white boy either.  But, standing together we were badass, on any given night, on our turf, some of the baddest asses on the planet.  We were united, we were strong, we were righteous, we were unmovable, we were funny, we were corny as hell and as serious as death itself.  And we were coming to your town to shake you and to wake you up. Together, we told an older, richer story about the possibilities of friendship that transcended those I’d written in my songs and in my music.  Clarence carried it in his heart.  It was a story where the Scooter and the Big Man not only busted the city in half, but we kicked ass and remade the city, shaping it into the kind of place where our friendship would not be such an anomaly. And that… that’s what I’m gonna miss.  The chance to renew that vow and double down on that story on a nightly basis, because that is something, that is the thing that we did together… the two of us.  Clarence was big, and he made me feel, and think, and love, and dream big. How big was the Big Man?  Too fucking big to die.  And that’s just the facts.  You can put it on his grave stone, you can tattoo it over your heart. Accept it… it’s the New World.

Clarence doesn’t leave the E Street Band when he dies.  He leaves when we die. 

So, I’ll miss my friend, his sax, the force of nature his sound was, his glory, his foolishness, his accomplishments, his face, his hands, his humor, his skin, his noise, his confusion, his power, his peace.  But his love and his story, the story that he gave me, that he whispered in my ear, that he allowed me to tell… and that he gave to you… is gonna carry on.  I’m no mystic, but the undertow, the mystery and power of Clarence and my friendship leads me to believe we must have stood together in other, older times, along other rivers, in other cities, in other fields, doing our modest version of god’s work… work that’s still unfinished.  So I won’t say goodbye to my brother, I’ll simply say, see you in the next life, further on up the road, where we will once again pick up that work, and get it done. 

Big Man, thank you for your kindness, your strength, your dedication, your work, your story.  Thanks for the miracle… and for letting a little white boy slip through the side door of the Temple of Soul. 

SO LADIES AND GENTLEMAN… ALWAYS LAST, BUT NEVER LEAST.  LET’S HEAR IT FOR THE MASTER OF DISASTER, the BIG KAHUNA, the MAN WITH A PHD IN SAXUAL HEALING, the DUKE OF PADUCAH, the KING OF THE WORLD, LOOK OUT OBAMA! THE NEXT BLACK PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES EVEN THOUGH HE’S DEAD… YOU WISH YOU COULD BE LIKE HIM BUT YOU CAN’T!   LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE BIGGEST MAN YOU’VE EVER SEEN!... GIVE ME A C-L-A-R-E-N-C-E.  WHAT’S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! WHAT’S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! WHAT’S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! … amen.

I’m gonna leave you today with a quote from the Big Man himself, which he shared on the plane ride home from Buffalo, the last show of the last tour.  As we celebrated in the front cabin congratulating one another and telling tales of the many epic shows, rocking nights and good times we’d shared, "C" sat quietly, taking it all in, then he raised his glass, smiled and said to all gathered, "This could be the start of something big."

Love you, "C".

Meus queridos amigos,

Mais um ano chega ao fim.

Para alguns foi o primeiro, para outros foi o ultimo...

Enquanto houver ventos e mares, nós vamos continuar... Enquanto houver estrada para andar, a gente vai continuar...

Tivemos os nossos momentos bons, recheados de alegria, outros menos bons, de magoa, de tristeza e até de dor.

E agora a poucas horas de fechar mais este ciclo, chegou a altura de pararmos e reflectirmos.

Como foi realmente o nosso ano? O que conseguimos? Que vitórias alcançamos? Que objectivos foram concretizados?

Poderemos dizer que realmente lutamos?

Demos o abraço que aquela pessoa que estava ali ao nosso lado e que realmente precisava, ou viramos as costas e não nos importamos?

Pedimos perdão pelas nossas falhas, por mais pequenas que sejam, ou o orgulho não nos deixou?

Fomos realmente companheiros de trabalho, ou limitamo-nos a fazer o nosso trabalho sem querermos saber que o nosso colega estava a conseguir alcançar os seus objectivos? Estivemos realmente presentes nas vidas dos que esperavam isso de nós? Fomos realmente família, ou fomos demasiado mesquinhos, e só olhamos para os nossos próprios umbigos?

Tantas perguntas conduzem a uma ultima….

Será que vamos ter outra oportunidade?

Para um pedido de desculpa, para uma reconciliação, para responder a uma dúvida, para encontrar o amor, para curar uma dor, uma mágoa, um grito de alivio?

Para um beijo não dado, para um abraço perdido?

Como diria o meu amigo X, que Deus, Alah, Buda ou quem quer que coordena este nosso Cosmos nos dê a força suficiente, a saúde necessária, a oportunidade para fazermos o que deveríamos ter feito, que nos permita emendar as nossas falhas, corrigirmos os nossos erros, sermos efectivamente amigos, companheiros, compreensivos, melhores pais, filhos… Só assim poderemos encontrar a felicidade que tanto desejamos!

Que possamos de facto evoluir!

Desejo-vos um extraordinário ano novo,

Francisco J. Ferrão

Meus Queridos Amigos,

À medida que nos aproximamos do final de 2011, queria vos exprimir mais uma vez toda a minha gratidão pelo apoio, amizade e carinho que me dão diariamente. O vosso apoio é o vento debaixo das minhas asas que me permite voar. Vocês são a base de tudo o que eu tendo construir. Esta base é sólida, porque vocês não me abandonam, e por isto estou-vos infinitamente grato. Espero continuar a merecer a vossa amizade por muito tempo.

Espero que, onde quer que estejam, e eu sei que lêem isto nos quatro cantos do mundo, tenham um Santo e Feliz Natal e que o ano de 2012 que aí vem seja fantástico, e vos permite concretizar todos os vossos projectos e sonhos.

Eu vou andar por aqui, e espero ir-vos vendo a todos…

Com muito amor, e com toda a minha gratidão,

Francisco!

Hoje trago-vos uma musica de Fernanda Abreu inspirada no verso imortal de Fernando Pessoa… Deliciosa esta interacção entre Lisboa e Rio….

EKL!

Tudo Vale a Pena

Crianças nas praças

Praças no morro

Morro de amores, Rio

Rio da leveza desse povo

Carregado de calor e de luta

Povo bamba

Cai no samba, dança o funk

tem suingue até no jeito de olhar

Tem balanço no trajeto, no andar

Andar de cima

Tem a música tocando

Andar de trem

Tem gente em cima equilibrando

Andar no asfalto

Os carros quentes vão passando

Andar de baixo

Tem a moça no quintal cantarolando

Rios e baixadas

Com seus vales vale a pena

Sua pobreza é quase mito

Quando fito o seu contorno

Lá do alto de algum dos seus mirantes

Que são tantos

E que te disse

Que miséria é só aqui?

Quem foi que disse

Que a miséria não sorri?

Quem tá falando

Que não se chora miséria no Japão?

Quem tá pensando

Que não existem tesouros na favela?

Então tudo vale a pena

Sua alma não é pequena

Seus santos são fortes

Adoro o seu sorriso

Zona Sul ou Zona Norte

Seu ritmo é preciso

Então tudo vale a pena

Sua alma não é pequena

Como toda a gente que frequenta este meu cantinho sabe, gosto muito de poesia, em especial de Fernando Pessoa. Claro que apesar deste meu gosto particular, não deixo de apreciar outros. Hoje trago-vos um poema muito belo de um dos príncipes dos poetas portugueses: José Carlos Ary dos Santos.

EKL!

Canção de madrugar

De linho te vesti

de nardos te enfeitei

amor que nunca vi

mas sei.

Sei dos teus olhos acesos na noite

- sinais de bem despertar -

sei dos teus braços abertos a todos

que morrem devagar.

Sei meu amor inventado que um dia

teu corpo pode acender

uma fogueira de sol e de fúria

que nos verá nascer.

Irei beber em ti

o vinho que pisei

o fel do que sofri

e dei.

Dei do meu corpo um chicote de força.

Rasei meus olhos com água.

Dei do meu sangue uma espada de raiva

e uma lança de mágoa.

Dei do meu sonho uma corda de insónias

cravei meus braços com setas

descobri rosas alarguei cidades

e construí poetas.

E nunca te encontrei

na estrada do que fiz

amor que nunca logrei

mas quis.

Sei meu amor inventado que um dia

teu corpo há-de acender

uma fogueira de sol e de fúria

que nos verá nascer.

Então:

nem choros nem medos nem uivos

nem gritos nem pedras nem facas

nem fomes nem secas nem feras

nem ferros nem farpas nem farsas

nem forcas nem cardos nem dardos

nem guerras

Nos últimos tempos, por força das circunstâncias em que me vi de repente, tenho-me dedicado a uma actividade que tinha negligenciado… Tenho descoberto poetas e músicos fantásticos. Hoje trago-vos uma canção fenomenal de um dos excelentes compositores sul-americanos, o uruguaio Jorge Drexler.

Esta música toca-me muito pela forma simples como Jorge, nos passa a sua mensagem. E nestes dias loucos que vivemos, é mesmo disto que precisamos!

EKL!

La edad del cielo – Jorge Drexler

No somos más

que una gota de luz,

una estrella fugaz,

una chispa, tan sólo,

en la edad del cielo.

No somos lo

que quisiéramos ser,

solo un breve latir

en un silencio antiguo

con la edad del cielo.

Calma,

todo está en calma,

deja que el beso dure,

deja que el tiempo cure,

deja que el alma

tenga la misma edad

que la edad del cielo.

No somos más

que un puñado de mar,

una broma de Dios,

un capricho del Sol

del jardín del cielo.

No damos pie

entre tanto tic tac,

entre tanto Big Bang,

sólo un grano de sal

en el mar del cielo.

Nem sempre é preciso haver um motivo para tudo na vida! Hoje trago-vos um poema do grande Mestre Vinicius…. Apenas porque me apeteceu!

é um poema muito simples, e de uma beleza singular… chama-se “A Casa”.

EKL!

Era uma casa muito engraçada

Não tinha teto, não tinha nada

Ninguém podia entrar nela, não

Porque na casa não tinha chão

Ninguém podia dormir na rede

Porque na casa não tinha parede

Ninguém podia fazer pipi

Porque penico não tinha ali

Mas era feita com muito esmero

Na rua dos bobos, número zero

Continuando com o magnifico “OK Computer!” hoje trago-vos o excelente “Lucky”!

Espero que gostem,

EKL!

I'm on a roll, I'm on a roll

This time, I feel my luck could change

Kill me Sarah, kill me again with love

It's gonna be a glorious day

Pull me out of the aircrash

Pull me out of the wake

I'm your superhero

We are standing on the edge

The Head of State has called for me by name

But I don't have time for him

It's gonna be a glorious day

I feel my luck could change

Pull me out of the aircrash

Pull me out of the wake

I'm your superhero

We are standing on the edge

Como vos disse em posts anteriores, o disco “OK Computer” tem-me acompanhado no trânsito diário. Indiscutivelmente um dos grandes discos da história, não consigo eleger um ponto alto, já que tem tantos.

Hoje trago-vos uma musica que me diz muito…

Claro que não posso deixar de agradecer aos meus amigos que me têm apoiado de uma forma incansável nesta altura menos positiva da minha vida! De facto, sem amigos, nós não somos nada….

EKL!

No Surprises, By Radiohead

A heart that's full up like a landfill

A job that slowly kills you

Bruises that won't heal

You look so tired and unhappy

Bring down the government

They don't, they don't speak for us

I'll take a quiet life

A handshake of carbon monoxide

No alarms and no surprises

No alarms and no surprises

No alarms and no surprises

Silent, silent

This is my final fit, my final bellyache with

No alarms and no surprises

No alarms and no surprises

No alarms and no surprises please

Such a pretty house, such a pretty garden

No alarms and no surprises (let me out of here)

No alarms and no surprises (let me out of here)

No alarms and no surprises please (let me out of here)

Hoje trago-vos mais uma musica dos Radiohead que tenho ouvido em repeat….

Deixo-vos com  “Exit Music for a film”.

Wake from your sleep,

the drying of your tears,

Today we escape, we escape.

Pack and get dressed

before your father hears us,

before all hell breaks loose.

Breathe, keep breathing,

don’t lose your nerve.

Breathe, keep breathing,

I can’t do this alone.

Sing us a song,

a song to keep us warm,

there’s such a chill, such a chill.

And you can laugh a spineless laugh,

we hope your rules and wisdom choke you.

And now we are one

in everlasting peace,

we hope that you choke, that you choke,

we hope that you choke, that you choke,

we hope that you choke, that you choke.