Gert Vlok Nel - Beaufort-Wes se Beautiful Woorde

Gert Vlok Nel - Beaufort-Wes se Beautiful Woorde - 5/5
http://www.mediafire.com/?sharekey=743e23c153ff2ddb7f7ec40ada4772a66544b5400d3810265be6ba49b5870170

Where to start with this album? I decided to share some of South Africa`s finest work with you and only one album came to mind. Before you listen make sure you get a box of tissues and a strong whiskey to still the pain: this album is no joke.

I know you won`t all be able to understand the lyrics (translations can be organised, if you want, and I actually reccomend asking) but this is so much more powerful than just the lyrics. As I am writing, not listening on the words, I can feel the shooting, ice-cold emotional pain that this man has managed to convey in just 44 minutes. Many artists have been called blues: Cream, Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, AC/DC... This album puts all of these bands to shame in what it really means to sing the blues.

I can`t call the album "minimalist" as there is a very distinct use of instrumentation, lively drumming in "Rivier" or steel guitar in "Hillside Lullaby", for example, but most of the album is dominated by the acoustic guitar, harmonica and desparing wail of Nel. An almost repetitive musical sequence is present in all the songs but to call it boring is, quite simply, to lie. To call this music repetitive is like calling a roller-coaster repetitive: true, but unfair.

I once heard someone saying of the blues: "Blues is about the guitar. The singer is only there to narrate." But what Nel has managed to accomplish is so much more: a myriad of techniques, ranging from a morbid female back-up singer to subtle touches of piano, are successfully used to create an unforgettable atmosphere. All of this is only improved by the fact that this man is a poet of the highest quality.

The lyrics don`t paint a very different picture: an ongoing road-trip through the pains and sorrows of Nel`s mind. From a tale of lost love ("Beatiful in Beaufort-Wes") to a eulogy for one of Afrikaans music`s greatest legends, who sadly passed away in a road-accident ("Waarom Ek Roep Na Jou Vanaand"), this album shows you exactly how it would feel if everything you love, died and you were slowly walking to the cliff where you were going to commit suicide. I don`t even care about the constant English words he throws in and I`m the biggest Afrikaans-purist you`ll ever meet!

The only downside to the album is the few scratches on the first track but I am willing to take full responsibility for that (scratched CD`s and such) and hope it doesn`t keep you from enjoying the sweet, sweet melancholy that Gert Vlok Nel has ceated.

(Link provided by me :D AND YOU`D BETTER APPRECIATE IT!)

Highlights: Every-bloody-thing! And I`m not even kidding!

» Click to show lyrics - click again to hide... «

#1 Beautiful in Baufort-Wes:

And you were beautiful in Beaufort-Wes and I was so
scared & loved you scarily & me and you
made out on graves and on trains and on Ford Fairlanes`
back seats and now you and your husband are both computer
analysts & last winter you tried to cut both of your wrists
& now you write to me that

you can`t sleep anymore, no you can`t laugh, no you can`t
do anything for yourself anymore, never-ever kiss me again...

& beautiful were your words as well, while you were smoking
menthol cigarettes & those sweet, sweet things you said to
me, while you lie in my arms so sweet-sweetly & I forgot
the exact words so exactly, I only remember the smoke &
the sweat in Beaufort-West & your bare naked body
under a cool summer cotton dress

& now we can`t sleep anymore, no we can`t laugh, no we can`t
do anything for eachother anymore, never-ever kiss eachother again...

& maybe it`s like the story from Die Huisgenoot, but one
evening you suddenly pushed me away & looked at your face
in the rear-view mirror and said: "maybe I should look happier"
that night I couldn`t go to sleep & I fealt how my heart was
torn from my body & floated down the river like a rowing-boat

& I could not sleep anymore, no I couldn`t laugh anymore,
never do anything right again, never-ever kiss you again...

(harmonica part)

& the last memory that I`ll sing about is the night when
you and me rode on the milktrain on & on into the night
to other side the ding-dong gong of the breakfast waiter
through the corridor & that was my wake-up call, my love,
you said to me: "Please, love me and I dreamt we went to
live in Beaufort-West

& I couldn`t sleep anymore, no I couldn`t laugh, never do
anything like that again, never-ever kiss you again"

A few notes: 1) Die Huisgenoot is an Afrikaans magazine. The name means "The Home Companion".
2) Beaufort-Wes is a smallish town.
3) And the reason that the refrain sounds so bad in English is because in
Afrikaans the system of using the negative uses a double negative. In other
words you would say "I can not kick the dog not", something which makes
it a very difficult langauge to sing in, which he has here wonderfully
incorporated to improve the emotional impact instead of decreasing
practicality.

#2 Timotei Shampoo"

What happened, my beauty, that
december-month when we lived like
jetsetters in
Gordonsbaai in that hot, overpriced flat
atop the
Portofino ice-cream parlour within
view of the quay
& the wind that blew continually, ai, ai, blew &
your long cream colico curtains that waved
bye, bye out of the window like a pair of hands,
that
letter from someone from somewhere in my
hand & the wind that turned against the evening twilight
of the
sea to the land
& the flat now suddenly like a falling
boeing, plummeting to sea & you asking "why me?"
& your naked body suddenly over me swaying and weeping
why? With your hair in my mouth, sweet & soft
like
edible underwear of strawberry &
TIMOTEI SHAMPOO...

Oysters on Melba-toast & Perrier-water, that
last morning sun on the balcony &
not even 8 o'clock & already outside there`s
the happy screams of holiday-goers with ice-creams
&
you, suddenly screaming & the
curtains tearing from their supporting frame
topless freezing in the window
like an overexposed foto from an old family
foto-album or an old magazine. I think
I see it now you tell me we have lingered in
chambers by the sea but
all that poetry shit means nothing now
to me & then you took out your old curtains
from the cupboard that you bought on a Christmas special
at Edgars in Gordonsbaai
& the summer was ruined & me saying I think
we wasted time at Jane Seymour & are subsequently back at
TIMOTEI SHAMPOO...

Police sirens that night & then a crash at
3:31 on the alarm-clock & we were awake again: No,
no!
I was alone, I think, I remember now, my love, where were you?
where were you? I was so alone & it had
started raining outside
& I went outside to the abandoned streets & your
Jumbo Golf was gone & gone down
was the moon & the pleiades middle of
night & me, frantically phoning from a
tickybox to the hospital & mumbo-jumbo
with a tired little night-nurse, no, no,
you were not
there but in the
hot, overpriced flat I found you
by the bay-window with your
hands held outside,
catching the rain, I saw you
run outside smiling & telling me you
have good news for me.
Did they finally find my body? Do me one
favour and embalm my body in
TIMOTEI SHAMPOO...

What happened, my lovely, over-bearing beauty,
that unhappy December-month, when we saw ourselves
as a sunset
in Gordonsbaai in that
hot, overpriced flat atop the
Portofino ice-cream parlour within
view of the quay?

A few notes: 1) December is usually our biggest holiday-month in SA. Schools are
usually closed from late-November to middle-January. And since
it`s summer here in December, many people go for holiday somewhere
by the sea. It`s almost a tradition to Afrikaans poeple in SA.
2) Gordonsbaai (meaning Gordon`s Bay) is a popular holiday-destination.
3) Edgars is a furniture-and-clothing store and Jane Seymour is a clothing
store.

#3 Hillside Lullaby

I live in here, in the town where the trains whistle
& the shunters move the trains on the rails
night after night
& I`m just about fine.
Remember the day when you were going to come and live with me...
How did our tale play out further?
Trains that shunt, trains that stay,
trains that always go in circles here.

Dream of me and set me free, tonight...

This morning there was a loud bang
down by the side of the railway bridge,
but everything was real fine,
it`s only that I miss you so
& in the meantime everything scares me.
All my words lie, empty, in my hand
because my heart is sleeping next to you,
where the trains shunt...

Dream of me and set me free, tonight...

A few notes: 1) Hillside is an urban area in Johannesburg.

#4 Waarom Ek Roep Na Jou Vanaand (Why I call to You Tonight)

Gert, above the ground, is calling to Koos, under the
ground: "Come in, Koos, come in."
Why I call to you tonight, it`s a
dark, dark night in July
and it`s raining all day over the
Vodacom towers and the Telkom lines between here &
your grave
in the word "Transvaal" & I dropped your most
beautiful record from the Hi-Fi...

Koos, the line is dead between my heart and your
mouth`s most beautiful words
& between your words and the places where
the far-away winds blow & where are the
ships in the bay?
All the words have changed in the palm
of our hands & now it`s a very strange country
so sail slowly, slowly all ye ships of the
night from Malta to Mumbai to drop
Koos off on his last word, goodbye,
Koos, goodbye, goodbye...

Koos, I think I`m busy saying goodbye
forever and especially forever
& for the tent between the stars and saphires as
blue as Beaufort-Wes`s sky & the resentful poems
on your last, loose papers.
For a long time, your were my blackest troubadour, you
stirred the troubled water of my heart,
but I know that my was then still
coldwater-Omo-clean for the Lord and Tintin
to live in
& I could still sing in the month of
March & I could still hear deep trains shunting
under the railway-yard
& in the mornings before school when I was still
popping pimples in front of the mirror at 06:50,
I could still see my soul and my whole life
in my eyes
& the Gamka River swooshed through to
the sea & in the evenings the 13-up and 7-down trains
sweeshed through to the Cape & in such an night
I overslepped
so much so that I was frightened when I saw,
in the yard, it was already afternoon in March but
the lights were already on in the street, shantih,
Koos, shantih, shantih...

Koos, after you there were othere Koos's that could
also cry beautifully in Afrikaans.
There was the smartest Koos, with a handfull
of fairy-tales, grim & gay & he said: "Look,
I write with my body. My name is Koos and I am
such a sick rose,"
but he died terribly, like a
sunflower & sunflowers pass on horribly.
And uninhibitedly, through the night, drives the
prettiest Koos, east, all along the river, as black as
Label, through the night, as black as a Bible, to
the magnificent word of tomorrow
& also my friend Koos from the beautiful West,
one night he got into the midnight-train,
in a tuxedo, on an impulse of winter,
midnight, streetlight, smalltown rain amongst
other things he`s burried in Springs.
Koos, please show them where to
pitch their tents in the Milky Way, in that pitch
dark goodnight, Koos, goodnight, goodnight.

You, on the contrary, were bullshitless, Koos,
illusionless, homeless, dreamless, timeless,
groupieless, *draadloos* & completely hopeless.
Your songs were so tear-inducingly beautiful,
too beautiful, too beautiful to live in,
they don`t belong in Africa or somewhere around here,
your songs actually belong nowhere.
Through the train-window I see the
midnight-sun or is it the bit of sun on
Germiston perron.
I overslept on the train & went by my home-town
in the night & the house where I could
share my deepest feelings.
The old hometown looks the same as you
step down from the train & there`s your mum &
your dad & Mary down the lane - when you put out
your hand, they all start to disappear.
Withe the years everything ravelled out, Koos,
even your mum`s grainwood-table
& there`s a song of yours
who`s words I can`t remember anymore
& I don`t don`t know if you ever read a Tintin-book
but 'Tintin in Tibet' is the only book
where Tintin ever cried:
Goodbye, Chang, goodbye, goodbye.

It was eleven o`clock on the late-night
news, read by Blomerus Niewoudt, & I had just arrived
at home and then my mum that you died on the
45th cutting arift into Durban in a Volkwagen
Beetle, like Herman, that you wanted to drive to
your friend Nick to say something stupid
even though they were already asleep, for God`s sake,
that you were sober and awake, that it was
high-summer, that the night was so beautiful,
so beautiful that nothing could touch or move
you anymore - not saphire, not emerald, not agate
& also not your words, like saphire, emerald and agate,
that it was the type of night where
trains and words go, exhaustingly, to die and to become
cliché, that it was the perfect night out of ten thousand
to say goodbye in, because you already left everything,
even if it was little to Irma, Karien, Karla & Mornay
& me & Koos give us, your fans, the chance
to retrace your last, sad steps & to greet you
for the last time.
Farewell, Koos, farewell, farewell...

Because we are Graceland-less, Koos, no
Memphis, Tenness for us
because it was the will of the God
of life and death to let you drive on
the no-doubt, predetermined time January the 15th, 1984.
On a low tide-bridge, your Volksie
started slipping in slow-motion
& ploughed throught the Tamboekie grass
& all those lonely places where you always
were, to up against a tree & you,
halfway throught the windscreen to right up
on the bonnet & up against the tree you were
half-dreaming, half-in pain & no-doubt confessing
half-things your eyes saw: somewhere this
& somewhere that & maybe Herman, coming into
the bay on the deck of the Carian
all-sails & he`s hailing you, he`s signalling,
he`s laughing & waving & calling: 'I`ve come to
fetch you, Koos!"
Koos all around the world from Malta to
Bombay
& then you turned around on the word "Bombay"
& said something to us that we couldn`t catch due to
the presence of wind
but it was something like: "wind, vind, kind" &
then you saw
the morning breaking, cold & wordless, Koos
& you were happy & suddenly you were free...

More or less these thing can I reconstruct
on nightshiftduty
as a failed attempt for last honour.
Goodbye, Koos, goodbye, goodbye...

Koos, you sang about women, the sea & the
mines & I`m singing about women, the sea & trains
& I still remember the night that I heard you were
dead in January, 1984. The country was so full of
fear but the night was beautiful on Beaufort-Wes.
It was eleven o'clock, on the late-night news, read
by Blomerus Niewoudt, & I had just come home &
my mum said: "Gert..." & all the trains stopped.

A few notes: 1) 'Koos' is Koos du Plessis, a famous Afrikaans musician.
2) "wind, vind, kind" (meaning "wind, find, child") refers
to a very well-known verse in Koos du Plessis`s song
"Kinders van die wind", which means "Children of the Wind".
The closing words of the same verse "...en skielik was jy vry"
("...and suddenly you were free"), is also a reference to that song.
3) A "Volksie" is a Volkswagen Beetle. It`s a kind of "general nickname" in
Afrikaans.
4) "My name is Koos and I am such a sick rose" sounds silly but it rhymes in
Afrikaans as well as sounding silly :P
5) "Omo" is a local washing-liquid.
6) "Draadloos" is an Afrikaans word for radio literally meaning "cordless".

#5 Moenie my hier vergeet nie, Dixie (Don`t forget me here, Dixie)

Don`t forget me here
(what did you say? what did you say?) I said:
don`t, don`t leave me behind, alone in
this country,
where they still burn whitches,
this horrible, horrible country,
don`t forget me here.
Dixie, I don`t know if you know, without you
everything I have around me fills my heart
with a loss of words &
dread all of the people & buildings that
I have around me, all the
years of struggle & shows that I now have in
front of me, all the dead
-end jobs behind me, all the
blue, blue sky that I
have above me & all the dead loved-ones
that I have under me
& especially this emptying bed...

Please,

don`t forget me here
(what did you say? what did you say?) I said
don`t, don`t leave me behind, alone in
this town
where I grew up,
where no-one sees anything good in me anymore,
where strange waiters serve me.
Don`t forget me here.
Dixie, I don`t know if you know how empty
are the pool-halls of my youth, pocketed
are the balls & the
music has stopped in the sad
dance-halls & the blue cue-
chalk has become gray in my hand,
while I, for a moment,
looked through the windows at something
outside, in the country...

Please,

don`t forget me here
(what did you say? what did you say?) I said
don`t, don`t leave me behind, alone on
this planet
where the Lord doesn`t know of us anymore...

Don`t forget me here
(what did you say? what did you say?) I said:
don`t, don`t leave me behind, alone in
this country,
where they still burn whitches,
this horrible, horrible country,
don`t forget me here...

No notes :D

#6 Rivier (River)

River, Oh, River, you`re the deepest word that I
know
on you I could sail to the sea & to her in the
hope of winning her heart,
but the desert is the word through which I
had to travel to
win her heart.

Last night I slept in Pretoria,
in the wrong city with the wrong woman,
which made me
have to travel to you in the Cape with my
hat in my hand through
the most frightening land, oh, my darling.
Can you hear me there,
where you sleep?

River, Oh, River, you`re the deepest word that I
know
on you I could sail to the sea & to her in the
hope of winning her heart,
but the desert is the word through which I
had to travel to
win her heart.

Last night I slept in Bloemfontein,
was glad that I could come so far in one day
was glad there were still
flowers that the hikers pick up (wanted to call you)
was glad that love wasn`t passing
me, was glad it was only 1000 km from your
arms in the the Cape.

River, Oh, River, you`re the deepest word that I
know
on you I could sail to the sea & to her in the
hope of winning her heart,
but the desert is the word through which I
had to travel to
win her heart.

Last night I slept in Colesberg,
opposite that garage where the prostitutes,
who bring in the lorries, turn around
& hike back to the Cape. I saw a few cry during
the long night, I only heard some singing, maybe
over the mixed feelings that
turning around brings.

River, Oh, River, you`re the deepest word that I
know
on you I could sail to the sea & to her in the
hope of winning her heart,
but the desert is the word through which I
had to travel to
win her heart.

Last night I slept in Beaufort-Wes
in the Wagon Wheel Motel, wanted to call you,
wanted to tell you I was dreamless,
exhausted, dead-tired & had had enough &
wanted to come and sleep in your arms
& was only 500 km from the Cape.

River, Oh, River, you`re the deepest word that I
know
on you I could sail to the sea & to her in the
hope of winning her heart,
but the desert is the word through which I
had to travel to
win her heart.

No notes, again!

#7 Epitaph

Last night I dreamt I lived in 1975
again, the year when I was last happy. Then
I came down the stairs & poured myself
some water in the kitchen -
it was so quiet in the house.
The fairest years are gone.
Anyway, and then I dreamt that I lived
in a year as far away as possible from 1998.

Last year I dreamt that went to live in
my most beautiful words, in my most beautiful
town & that I was becoming well again. Then
I woke up & something wasn`t right, I was so lost
I wasn`t in my own home.
The fairest words are gone.
Anyway, and then I dreamt that I could
go live in a language as far as possible
from Afrikaans.

In my boyhood I had a girlfriend, she was
beautiful beyond Afrikaans, she could dance
me into tears all night & she was somehow
Gert`s last stance. And then she dreamt that she
went to live in a body as far as possible
from my body.
The fairest love in gone.
Anyway, and then I dreamt that I went
to live with her in a body as far as possible
from my body.

Somewhere I dreamt that I was attending
my own funeral & Dad was there & Mum was
there & all my loved-ones were there like
in my happiest days. But the most beautiful
of all that, it was that I bent down to the
ground and kissed myself on my own mouth.
The fairest dreams are gone.
Anyway, and then I dreamt that I could
go live in a dream as far as possible from here.

Last night I dreamt I lived in 1975
again, the year when I was last happy. Then
I came down the stairs & poured myself
some water in the kitchen -
it was so quiet in the house.
The fairest years are gone.
Anyway, and then I dreamt that I could
go live in a country as far as possible
from South Africa.
And then I dreamed that I could go live
in a country as far as possible
from South Africa.

Kindy translated by C. Odendaal