Experimentele klassieker du jour: Clara

Tijdens de laatste 30 jaar van zijn leven produceerde Scott Walker een klein aantal experimentele albums. Met ‘popmuziek’ hebben die albums helemaal niks meer te maken: melodieën en traditionele structuren zijn zo goed als afwezig, white noise wordt binnen één song afgewisseld met orchestrale passages en het contrast tussen luide en zachte passages is soms schokkend. Kortom: je moet er wat moeite voor doen;-)

‘Clara’ gaat over Mussolini’s minnares Clara Petacci. Petacci was volledig geobsedeerd door Mussolini, zozeer zelfs dat ze bereid was hem in de dood te volgen. Op 27 april 1945 werden beiden gearresteerd in Mezzegra. Petacci kreeg de kans Mussolini te verlaten en ongedeerd te vertrekken, maar weigerde dat. Een dag later werden beiden geëxecuteerd door partizanen en hun lichamen ondersteboven opgehangen op de Piazzale Loreto in Milaan. Scott Walker zag de beelden als kind in de bioscoop, wat hem maandenlange nachtmerries opleverde.

[Intro]
Birds
Birds

[Chorus]
This is not a cornhusk doll
Dipped in blood in the moonlight
Like what happen’ in America
This is us, our eyesides snagged
Dipped in mob in the daylight
Like what happen’ in America

[Refrain]
The breasts are still heavy
The legs long and straight
The upper lip remains short
The teeth still too small
The eyeside is green
The hair long and black
Still coming through!
Still coming through!

[Bridge]
She knows this room
She can navigate it in the dark

[Verse 1]
She entered the Palazzo at night by a side door
To ascend in a lift to the upper floor
She lies on the bed, looking up not yet seeing
The signs of the zodiac painted in gold on the blue vaulted ceiling
His enormous eyes as he arrives
Coming nearer in the surrounding darkness
His strange beliefs about the moon
Its influence upon men of affairs
The danger of its cold light
On your face while you were sleeping
She’ll eclipse it with her head, stroke him ‘til he sleeps
Until he has nothing to do among men of affairs

[Verse 2]
Sometime before dawn
Her bare feet cross the floor
She gazes from the window
At the fountain in the courtyard
“Sometimes I feel like a swallow
A swallow which by some mistake
Has gotten into an attic
And knocks its head against the walls in terror”

[Chorus]
This is not a rabbit skinned
With a body of silver
Like what happen’ in America
This is not a terrapin
With its shell torn away
Like what happen’ in America

[Refrain]
The breasts are still heavy
The legs long and straight
The upper lip remains short
The teeth still too small
The eyeside is green
The hair long and black
Still coming through!
Still coming through!

[Verse 3]
The mood soon changed in the clear morning air
A man came up towards the body and poked it with a stick
It rocked stiffly and twisted around at the end of the rope
Finer than a hair from every side
Finer than a hair

[Chorus]
This is just a cornhusk doll
Dipped in blood in the moonlight
This is just a cornhusk doll

[Outro]
This morning in my room
A little swallow was trapped
It flew around desperately
Until it fell exhausted on my bed
I picked it up
So as not to frighten it
I opened the window
Then I opened my hand