Há já muitos anos que me identifico com a música de Nick Cave. Reconheço-me nela, na sua inquietação, na sua instabilidade emocional, nas sensações fortes que percorrem, desde sempre, a sua obra. Na música de Cave what you see, is what you get e é mesmo assim que eu gosto.
Em 1998, Cave aceitou o convite de uma universidade austríaca para leccionar um curso sobre a escrita de canções. Havia apenas uma condição prévia: teria que dar uma aula pública sobre um tema à sua escolha. Nick Cave escreveu, e leu, um belíssimo texto intitulado "The Secret Life of the Love Song". Nele falou da sua infância na Austrália, da influência que o pai, professor de literatura inglesa, teve sobre ele e, sobretudo, da escrita muito peculiar das canções de amor.
Sobre elas Cave diz: Though the love song comes in many guises – songs of exultation and praise, songs of rage and of despair, erotic songs, songs of abandonment and loss – they all address God, for it is the haunted premises of longing that the true love song inhabits. It is a howl in the void, for Love and for comfort and it lives on the lips of the child crying for his mother. It is the song of the lover in need of her loved one, the raving of the lunatic supplicant petitioning his God. It is the cry of one chained to the earth, to the ordinary and to the mundane, craving flight; a flight into inspiration and imagination and divinity. The love song is the sound of our endeavours to become God-like, to rise up and above the earthbound and the mediocre. (...)
Love songs, and therefore, by my definition, sad songs. Out of this considerable mass of material, a handful of them rise above the others as true examples of all I have talked about. Sad Waters, Black Hair, I Let Love In, Deanna, From her to Eternity, Nobody's Baby Now, Into my Arms, Lime Tree Arbour, Lucy, Straight to You; I am proud of these songs. They are my gloomy, violent, dark-eyed children. They sit grimly on their own and do not play with the other songs. Mostly they were the offspring of complicated pregnancies and difficult and painful births. Most of them are rooted in direct personal experience and were conceived for a variety of reasons but this rag-tag group of love songs are, at the death, all the same thing – life lines thrown into the galaxies of the divine by a drowning man.
Into my Arms, do álbum "the boatman's call" é uma das minhas preferidas, pela música e, sobretudo pelo belíssimo poema. Por isso figuraria na lista das "canções da minha vida", seja lá o que isso for:
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