Vito, você veio ao Brasil e nem tivemos possibilidade de um encontro, onde eu conversaria sobre música. Sua voz não me engana: passará por onde, anti-Frank Sinatra (clichê), anti-Elvis Presley ou outro 'singer' de voz cheia...? (a referência a Tom Waits é mais imediata) Tal deslocamento me interessa - e muito. É através da voz que seus trabalhos acontecem - muitos deles; e nesta sonoridade gostaria de localizar o fio da escrita de seu pensamento, que aí encontra corpo para arrancar-se dos dogmatismos anglo-saxões em que a 'conceptual' foi mergulhada, etiquetada. Que filosofia analítica que nada; feche os olhos e abra os ouvidos - para abrir e quebrar a cabeça:
"Ten Packed Minutes" (1977)
Musical excerpts from the recordings of Leon Redbone, Cow Cow Davenport, Eric Dolphy, Karl Berger and Ornette Coleman.
Originally from the LP "Airwaves" (One Ten Records), 1977
"This is written before the piece is recorded. What I want is: ten packed minutes (that can be the title-or, maybe, "Ten Minutes to Zero".) The beginning is a single voice: crooning familiars as a base for tongue-twisting (after all, this is a record: there's no space to pin down here-now do you get the picture?-so there are games in the air, yes, it's you/me/ we/go/come/who goes further/the question is, who made somebody come tonight, who among those crowds of people ... ) But the song drifts off: there's a world out there, besides you and me: so this is a record of war, there's been an invasion of the city that could have been built into the empire of our love. But things go quickly, on the air: there's an underground, time passes, the scene changes: this is like overhearing a police broadcast: there's a report, from person A, under the grating, of person B's movements, on top of the grating-have we caught a sneak out of those multitudes of armies? (So the picture becomes clearer, no? But, all the while, there's always the thought: we can go to the movies later.) Say, then, that person C has escaped: there's a bar in another part of the forest: but person C fades away here, person C is just the excuse for the placement of a duel duet: bring back the music, bring on the night. After a life like this, I come back to you, bearing my very first songs: but, now, by this time- oh-oh-oh ... At this point, then the picture should have disappeared right in front of your eyes; but what replaces it is, no, not a thousand words-rather, the sound of the sounding that the words were there merely to prop up."