torsdag den 12. september 2019

Richard Dawson og Gattuso

Richard Dawson er noget af en troubadour. En sand original fra det nordengelske. Peasant fra 2017 var en af det års mest originale og betagende plader i al sit vanvid, og hans koncert på Roskilde Festival 2018 var lige så underlig og herlig.

Hvor Peasant var en konceptplade, der pegede ca. 1500 år tilbage i tid, hedder Dawsons kommende plade noget minimalt futuristisk: 2020. Den er ude 11. oktober på Domino, og et par sange er allerede sluppet. Med den mildt aggressive Jogging og nu Two Halves er han i det sporty hjørne.

Two Halves udforsker et far-søn-forhold gennem fodbold, og der er rigeligt med smerte involveret. Smerte kender Dawson til som Newcastle-fan, men han sammenligner nu sig selv med et mere sydligt temperament: "in my pomp I was a chiselling Gattuso-type holding-midfielder..."

Teksten er vidunderlig, sjov og hjerteskærende. Oktober bliver en god måned.

Bellowing instructions from the touchline, that's my dad
Purple  in the face‚ getting really mad
Man  on! Man on!
An empty stadium yells "man on"
Come on! Come on!
The  cross goes sailing wildly over the heads of everyone

"Stop  fannying around! Keep it nice and simple!"
"You're not Lionel Messi‚ just pass the bloody ball!"
Man  on! Man on!
An empty stadium yells "man on"
Come on! Come on!
The cross goes sailing wildly over the heads of everyone

Perhaps  we were expecting this to be a walk in the park
But these bastards from King's Priory are kicking lumps out of us
Man on! Man on!
An empty stadium yells "man on"
Come on! Come on!
The cross goes sailing wildly over the heads

Their left back slips taking a free kick
It trickles over the mud straight to me
In desperation he scrambles and slides
I leap his flailing leg and dink it
Over the sprawled body of the goalie
The net is gaping
The ball takes a bobble and I slice wide of the mark
Everything goes quiet
Staring into the red dark of my palms
They launch a long ball into our box
Suddenly we find ourselves with a corner to defend
I am on the near-post
Somehow it gets bundled underneath my feet
At the final whistle I am inconsolable
Man on! Man on!
I reckon dad is really disappointed with me
Come on! Come on!
He tries his best to not show how he really feels

In the car home‚ he says "dust yourself down
Move on to next week's game
Shall we pick up a Chinese or would you rather fish and chips?"



/Martin

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