
La rencontre
En 1993, un ami m’a ramené des états-unis le CD « Add It Up (1981-1993) » des Violent Femmes.
Il y avait dessus cette chanson de 5 minutes dont les paroles sont intrigantes:
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Violent Femmes – Country Death Song
I had me a wife, I had me some daughters.
I tried so hard, I never knew still waters.
Nothing to eat and nothing to drink.
Nothing for a man to do but sit around and think.
Nothing for a man to do but sit around and think.
Well, I’m a thinkin’ and thinkin’, till there’s nothin’ I ain’t thunk.
Breathing in the stink, till finally I stunk.
It was at that time, I swear I lost my mind.
I started making plans to kill my own kind.
I started making plans to kill my own kind.
Come little daughter, » I said to the youngest one,
Put your coat on, we’ll have some fun.
We’ll go out to mountains, the one to explore.
Her face then lit up, I was standing by the door.
Her face then lit up, I was standing by the door.
Come little daughter, I will carry the lanterns.
We’ll go out tonight, we’ll go to the caverns.
We’ll go out tonight, we’ll go to the caves.
Kiss your mother goodnight and remember that God saves.
Kiss your mother goodnight and remember that God saves.
A led her to a hole, a deep black well.
I said « make a wish, make sure and not tell and
Close you’re eyes dear, and count to seven.
You know your papa loves you, good children go to heaven.
You know your papa loves you, good children go to heaven.
I gave her a push, I gave her a shove.
I pushed with all my might, I pushed with all my love.
I through my child into a bottomless pit.
She was screaming as she fell, but I never heard her hit.
She was screaming as she fell, but I never heard her hit.
Gather round boys to this tale that I tell.
You want to know how to take a short trip to hell?
It’s guaranteed to get your own place in hell.
Just take your lovely daughter and push her in the well.
Take your lovely daughter and throw her in the well.
Don’t speak to me of lovers, with a broken heart.
You want to know what can really tear you apart?
I’m going out to the barn, will I never stop in pain?
I’m going out to the barn, to hang myself in shame.
Ainsi, on peut faire une chanson qui raconte l’histoire d’un père qui tue sa fille en la jetant dans un puits.
Le déclic
Le déclic est venu avec The Raconteurs en 2008 avec Carolina Drama :
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The Raconteurs – Carolina Drama
I’m not sure if there’s a point to this story
But I’m going to tell it again
So many other people try to tell the tale
Not one of them knows the end
It was a junk-house in South Carolina
Held a boy the age of ten
Along with his older brother Billy
And a mother and her boyfriend
Who was a triple loser with some blue tattoos
That were given to him when he was young
And a drunk temper that was easy to lose
And thank god he didn’t own a gun
Well, Billy woke up in the back of his truck
Took a minute to open his eyes
He took a peep into the back of the house
And found himself a big surprise
He didn’t see his brother but there was his mother
With her red-headed head in her hands
While the boyfriend had his gloves wrapped around an old priest
Trying to choke the man
Ah Ah Ahhh…
Billy looked up from the window to the truck
Threw up, and had to struggle to stand
He saw that red-necked bastard with a hammer
Turn the priest into a shell of a man
The priest was putting up the fight of his life
But he was old and he was bound to lose
The boyfriend hit as hard as he could
And knocked the priest right down to his shoes
Well, now Billy knew but never actually met
The preacher lying there in the room
He heard himself say, « That must be my daddy »
Then he knew what he was gonna do
Billy got up enough courage, took it up
And grabbed the first blunt thing he could find
It was a cold, glass bottle of milk
That got delivered every morning at nine
Ah Ah Ahhh…
Billy broke in and saw the blood on the floor, and
He turned around and put the lock on the door
He looked dead into the boyfriend’s eye
His mother was a ghost, too upset to cry, then
He took a step toward the man on the ground
From his mouth trickled out a little audible sound
He heard the boyfriend shout, « Get out! »
And Billy said, « Not till I know what this is all about »
« Well, this preacher here was attacking your mama »
But Billy knew just who was starting the drama
So Billy took dead aim at his face
And smashed the bottle on the man who left his dad in disgrace, and
The white milk dripped down with the blood, and the
Boyfriend fell down dead for good
Right next to the preacher who was gasping for air
And Billy shouted, « Daddy, why’d you have to come back here? »
His mama reached behind the sugar and honey, and
Pulled out an envelope filled with money
« Your daddy gave us this, » she collapsed in tears
« He’s been paying all the bills for years »
« Mama, let’s put this body underneath the trees
and put Daddy in the truck and head to Tennessee »
Just then, his little brother came in
Holding the milk man’s hat and a bottle of gin singing,
La la la la, la la la la, yeah
La la la la, la la la la, yeah
La la la la, la la la la, yeah
La la la, la la la…
La la la la, la la la la, yeah
La la la la, la la la la, yeah
La la la la, la la la la, yeah
La la la, la la la…
La la la la, la la la la, yeah
La la la la, la la la la, yeah
La la la la, la la la la, yeah
La la la la, la la la la, yeah
Well now you heard another side to the story
But you wanna know how it ends?
If you must know, the truth about the tale
Go and ask the milkman
Il y a bien un type de chansons qui racontent des meurtres. C’est les murder ballads.
Murder ballad
Les murder ballads sont un sous-genre des ballades traditionnelles, dont les paroles sont un récit décrivant les événements d’un meurtre, souvent avec ce qui a précédé et suivi. Ce sont des histoires vraies qui sont se sont passées entre le 16ème et le 19ème siècle. Les paroles étaient imprimées sur des feuilles de papier et vendues pas cher du tout les jours qui suivaient le crime (« broadsheet » ou « broadside« ).
C’était le « 20 minutes » de l’époque, mais en poétique. Par exemple une feuille de 1884 (cliquer sur l’image pour la source):

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