掘火档案

A Selection of Critical Mass in Music, Films and Beyond






信息

胡凌云 发表于09/14/2017, 归类于现场.

沙漠速度

U2 Joshua Tree

出门时感到第五次去看U2巡演的目的已经退化为给红房买Tee。出门前没找到那副入耳式录音线,明白自己录下的只会是视频。这次现场使用了有史以来最大的现场显示屏,毕竟,今天要演出的整张《约书亚树》,是U2最宽广的音乐。

现场显示屏一侧在演出前滚动显示着文字,其中包括兰斯顿·休斯的诗作《让美国再度成为美国》,它提醒我们的是U2接受美国感召的一面。而另一面则是以山姆·谢泼德的《汽车旅馆史诗》片段表现的。这部八十年代的小说成为了文德斯《德州巴黎》剧本的基础,而后者直接影响了《约书亚树》。

乐队最初的设想是每首曲子都带出一个地点,做一张“电影唱片”。美国西南和沙漠的风景是一个反复出现的主题。

在此之前,谢泼德为安东尼奥尼《扎布里斯基角》写过剧本。那算是更早一部欧洲导演和美国编剧合作的、以美国荒僻地点为名的、穿插着公路、广告牌和荒漠的影片。对安东尼奥尼来说,扎布里斯基角是一处将他的两个主角从他们的环境中获得自由的最佳地点,因为它“如此原始,像是月球”。

谢泼德曾说文德斯在某种角度上有和他一样的对美国的迷醉。他认为一般来说,一些美国导演会彻底忽视美国文化的某种特质。他们不会觉得一盏驿马车形状的霓虹灯会那么迷人。“但因为他的欧洲背景,我猜它有一种令人迷恋的特质去突然打动他。” 同为欧洲导演,文德斯和安东尼奥尼一样喜爱美国的开放空间,公路、广告牌和荒漠。

欧洲哲学家们也是如此。“我去寻找一个超越了精神的美国,是拥有空旷高速公路的绝对自由的美国,而不是社会和文化意义的美国,是拥有沙漠速度、汽车旅馆和矿化表面的美国,而不是道德和心理状态的深层美国。” 波德里亚说,“想要了解它,你必须上路,以旅行去抵达维里奥所说的消失美学。” 维里奥在《消失美学》中讲述古怪的美国富豪休斯时提到希伯来传统中以两片沙漠表示的两种缺乏,其中一片代表绝望与毁坏,另一片代表了未知与尝试。悲剧性的前者来自于充满了法律、理念和秩序,而不是漫游所达到的那种境界。

那么,歌词应该也是多余的。在我的哲学中,音乐是直接取得速度的方式。安东尼奥尼在讨论他那部惨遭失败的作品有言,“图像即事实,颜色即故事。” 音乐并不是歌词的奴隶,《约书亚树》的音乐给我的最初和最后印象都是卫华所形容的“散落在山谷间的水晶碎片”。

而U2选择了扎布里斯基角来拍摄这张专辑的封面。

这些作品间存在一种神秘联系。这种联系带我来到了现场。

而这篇小文的目的是为了和您分享现场视频,官网下载,三天内有效:本地下载 保留三天

墙外读者可以直接到youtube观看:

 

 

 

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Let America Be America Again
Langston Hughes, 1902 – 1967

Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There’s never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one’s own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean—
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I’m the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That’s made America the land it has become.
O, I’m the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home—
For I’m the one who left dark Ireland’s shore,
And Poland’s plain, and England’s grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa’s strand I came
To build a “homeland of the free.”

The free?

Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we’ve dreamed
And all the songs we’ve sung
And all the hopes we’ve held
And all the flags we’ve hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay—
Except the dream that’s almost dead today.

O, let America be America again—
The land that never has been yet—
And yet must be—the land where every man is free.
The land that’s mine—the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME—
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose—
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath—
America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain—
All, all the stretch of these great green states—
And make America again!

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