Josh Ritter – The Curse

Hace apenas cuatro días, recibí un email de www.joshritter.com, en el que se me invitaba a ver la “premier” del último video del músico de Brooklyn.

“The Curse” fue la canción que propició el nacimiento de "So runs the world away". Como ya comenté en la entrada dedicada al álbum, Josh Ritter estaba viviendo un periodo oscuro en el que se sentía incapaz de escribir, incapaz de componer, hasta que apareció “The Curse”: “...Entonces una noche, tumbado despierto y mirando al techo, acompañado por el sonido de los taxis y camiones de la basura que subía desde la calle a través de nuestra ventana, una historia vino a mi. No fue sólo un verso, era una historia completa, lista para ser escrita, como caída de un manzano sobre mi insomne cabeza. Trataba, curiosamente, sobre una momia y su maligna historia de amor con una arqueóloga. Me levanté y lo escribí en el baño, sentado en el borde de la bañera. Pensé que la historia era desalmada y tensa y triste y divertida. Después ya no pude dejar de escribir...”

Un vals precioso en el que se narra como surge el amor, el viaje en barco a New York, su estancia en un museo, e incluso, una gira alrededor de la nación. Mientras, ella envejece, convirtiéndose en un trapo que se arrastra tras él, hasta que su seco corazón deja de latir.
Al principio no había entendido su significado, luego caí en la cuenta de por qué se trataba de un amor maligno, en que consistía THE CURSE (la maldición):

Long ago in the ship she asked, "Why pyramids?"
He said, "Think of them as an immense invitation"
She asked, "Are you cursed?" He said, "I think that I'm cured"
Then he kissed her and hoped that she'd forget that question

Hace mucho tiempo, en el barco, ella le preguntó, "¿Por qué las pirámides?"
Él dijo: "Piensa en ellas como una inmensa invitación"
Ella le preguntó: "¿Estas maldito?" Él dijo: "Creo que estoy curado"
Después la besó con la esperanza de que se olvidaría de la cuestión

Él rejuvenecía, mejoraba físicamente, en la misma medida en que ella envejecía. Y sin embargo, no deja de ser una tierna historia de amor: ella parece consciente de la maldición y él, a pesar de amarla de verdad, no puede evitar arrebatarle su juventud.

El creador de esta maravilla es Liam Hurley, el batería de su propio grupo, que compagina sus labores como músico con las de titiritero, una pequeña obra de arte que se merece que retomemos el álbum del neoyorquino.

The Curse
He opens his eyes falls I love at first sight
With the girl in the doorway
What beautiful lines and how full of life
After thousands of years what a face to wake up to
He holds back a sigh as she touches his arm
She dusts off the bed where 'til now he's been sleeping
And under miles of stone, the dried fig of his heart
Under scarab and bone starts back to it's beating

She carries him home in a beautiful boat
He watches the sea from a porthole in stowage
He can hear all she says as she sits by his bed
And one day his lips answer her in her own language
The days quickly pass he loves making her laugh
The first time he moves it's her hair that he touches
She asks, "Are you cursed?" He says, "I think that I'm cured"
Then he talks of the Nile and the girls in bulrushes

In New York he is laid in a glass covered case
He pretends he is dead people crowd round to see him
But each night she comes round and the two wander down
The hall of the tomb that she calls a museum
Often he stops to rest but then less and less
Then it's her that looks tired staying up asking questions
He learns how to read from the papers that she
Is writing about him and he makes corrections

It's his face on her book more and more come to look
Families from Iowa, upper west siders
Then one day it's too much he decides to get up
And as chaos ensues he walks outside to find her
She's using a cane and her face looks to pale
But she's happy to see him as they walk he supports her
She asks, "Are you cursed?" but his answer's obscured
In a sandstorm of flashbulbs and rowdy reporters

Such reanimation the two tour the nation
He gets out of limos he meets other women
He speaks of her fondly their nights in the museum
But she's just one more rag now he's dragging behind him
She stops going out she just lies there in bed
In hotels in whatever towns they are speaking
Then her face starts to set and her hands start to fold
And one day the dried fig of her heart stops it's beating

Long ago in the ship she asked, "Why pyramids?"
He said, "Think of them as an immense invitation"
She asked, "Are you cursed?" He said, "I think that I'm cured"
Then he kissed her and hoped that she'd forget that question