Por Claudio Andrade
Han pasado ya casi 10 años desde Tom Waits lanzó «Bad as Me». Desde entonces, el silencio.
Musicalmente hablando. En lo actoral anduvo de aquí para allá y ahora nos acabamos de enterar de que será el narrador de una flamante serie de stop-motion llamada «Ultra City» que se estrena en AMC+ el 22 de julio. Algo es algo.
Mientras tanto podemos repasar toda su gloriosa obra. Su brutal contribución a la historia de los acordes.
En cierto modo, Waits nunca ha dejado de experimentar y por lo tanto es igual y diferente a sí mismo cada vez.
Aún visto de este modo, Waits, posee clásicos inolvidables.
Canciones que pueden ir con uno a lo largo de la vida, como amigos entrañables que nunca te dejarán solo o en las malas.
Los tiene por decenas.
«The piano has been drinking», «I hope that i don’t fall in love with you», y tantos otros. Tantos.
Pero «Martha». Si, Martha tiene un lugar especial.
Un hombre llama después de muchos años a una mujer y le recuerda su pasado juntos. Días de flores y poesía.
Y duele. Duele tanto. Duele de tal manera está canción magistral que alivia la carga de existir. De ser.
Una letra que es pura lírica y una voz que nos recuerda que el tiempo pasa y seguimos entre los vivos.
Martha
«Operator, number, please: it’s been so many years
Will she remember my old voice while I fight the tears?
Hello, hello there, is this Martha? this is old Tom Frost,
And I am calling long distance, don’t worry ‘bout the cost.
‘Cause it’s been forty years or more, now Martha please recall,
Meet me out for coffee, where we’ll talk about it all.
And those were the days of roses, poetry and prose
And Martha all I had was you and all you had was me.
There was no tomorrows, we’d packed away our sorrows
And we saved them for a rainy day.
And I feel so much older now, and you’re much older too,
How’s your husband? and how’s the kids? you know that I got married too?
Luck that you found someone to make you feel secure,
‘Cause we were all so young and foolish, now we are mature.
And those were the days of roses, poetry and prose
And Martha all I had was you and all you had was me.
There was no tomorrows, we’d packed away our sorrows
And we saved them for a rainy day.
And I was always so impulsive, I guess that I still am,
And all that really mattered then was that I was a man.
I guess that our being together was never meant to be.
And Martha, Martha, I love you can’t you see?
And those were the days of roses, poetry and prose
And Martha all I had was you and all you had was me.
There was no tomorrows, we’d packed away our sorrows
And we saved them for a rainy day.
And I remember quiet evenings trembling close to you…»
