Voglio iniziare il blog in musica. Così per non cadere in fiumi di parole.
Vincent infatti è stato, anzi direi è protagonista di molte canzoni a lui dedicate. Non saranno molto conosciute, ma rispecchiano in pieno l'animo dell 'artista.
Direi di partire con la fantastica poesia di Roberto Vecchioni " Vincent ".
Guarderò le stelle
com'erano la notte ad Arles,
appese sopra il tuo boulevard;
io sono dentro agli occhi tuoi,
Vincent.
com'erano la notte ad Arles,
appese sopra il tuo boulevard;
io sono dentro agli occhi tuoi,
Vincent.
Sognerò i tuoi fiori,
narcisi sparpagliati al vento,
il giallo immenso e lo scontento
negli occhi che non ridono,
negli occhi tuoi,
Vincent.
narcisi sparpagliati al vento,
il giallo immenso e lo scontento
negli occhi che non ridono,
negli occhi tuoi,
Vincent.
Dolce amico mio,
fragile compagno mio,
al lume spento della tua pazzia
te ne sei andato via,
piegando il collo
come il gambo di un fiore:
scommetto un girasole.
fragile compagno mio,
al lume spento della tua pazzia
te ne sei andato via,
piegando il collo
come il gambo di un fiore:
scommetto un girasole.
Sparpagliato grano,
pulviscolo spezzato a luce
e bocche aperte senza voce
nei vecchi dallo sguardo che non c'è,
poi le nostre sedie
le nostre sedie così vuote
così "persone",
così abbandonate
e il tuo tabacco sparso qua e là.
pulviscolo spezzato a luce
e bocche aperte senza voce
nei vecchi dallo sguardo che non c'è,
poi le nostre sedie
le nostre sedie così vuote
così "persone",
così abbandonate
e il tuo tabacco sparso qua e là.
Dolce amico mio,
fragile compagno mio,
che hai tentato sotto le tue dita
di fermarla, la vita.
Come una donna amata alla follia
la vita andava via
e più la rincorrevi
e più la dipingevi a colpi rossi
per tenerla stretta,
gialli come dire "Aspetta!",
fino a che i colori
non bastaron più...
e avrei voluto dirti, Vincent,
questo mondo non meritava
un uomo bello come te!
fragile compagno mio,
che hai tentato sotto le tue dita
di fermarla, la vita.
Come una donna amata alla follia
la vita andava via
e più la rincorrevi
e più la dipingevi a colpi rossi
per tenerla stretta,
gialli come dire "Aspetta!",
fino a che i colori
non bastaron più...
e avrei voluto dirti, Vincent,
questo mondo non meritava
un uomo bello come te!
Guarderò le stelle,
la tua, la mia metà del mondo
che sono le due scelte, in fondo:
o andare via o rimanere via.
la tua, la mia metà del mondo
che sono le due scelte, in fondo:
o andare via o rimanere via.
Dolce amico mio,
fragile compagno mio,
io, in questo mare,
non mi perdo mai;
ma in ogni mare sai
"Tous le bateaux
vont à l'hazard pour rien".
Addio, da Paul Gauguin.
fragile compagno mio,
io, in questo mare,
non mi perdo mai;
ma in ogni mare sai
"Tous le bateaux
vont à l'hazard pour rien".
Addio, da Paul Gauguin.
Adesso direi di passare oltreoceano per ascoltare l'amico Don McLean con la sua " Starry, Starry Night "
Starry, starry night.
Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer's day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land.
Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.
Starry, starry night.
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue.
Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
Weathered faces lined in pain,
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.
Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.
For they could not love you,
But still your love was true.
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night,
You took your life, as lovers often do.
But I could have told you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you.
Starry, starry night.
Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless head on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
Like the strangers that you've met,
The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they're not listening still.
Perhaps they never will...
E adesso l'ultima, ho scoperto per caso che il caro Ras Kass ha fatto una canzone rap ispirandosi a Vincent, chiamata " Van Gogh ".
Ah, celebrate
Hahaha, yeah, ah
Vita Brevis, Ars Longa
Life is short, art is long
It's been a long time, I shouldn't of left you
But Priority Records be fuckin' up, nephew
Extraterrestrial poet, my pen stroke is grotesque
Rugged nigga, abrasive to any fo'flesh
So let's paint a thousand words worth a picture
Panoramic though, more esoteric than hieroglyphs and scriptures
And chemical mixtures, spit your's, not just kick words
Spit swords when we joust from the mouth dogg
Heard he got the hottest shit out, but Titanic emcees
Somehow manage to freeze
Fracture your flows so bandage your steez, no royalties
Subtract his mathematics like I was droppin' satanic degrees
Long time no see chico, still eatin' pussy at the Nico? (ha haaa)
I'm screamin' "Power to the people"
Most times, genius is misunderstood, but understand
You stand under unstable tables of foundation
My true occupation, dissemination of information
Usin' both sides of the brain, and I ain't complacent
Complain when I speak, fuck Priority Records
Like Prince, I'm writin' "slave" on my cheek, cause my kids gotta eat
Meanwhile A&R's sniffin' coke, gettin' kickbacks, fuck that
My written's like Christ wit a cross on his back
I'll breathe a total Black experience on a track
What use to be hot was what a emcee said
Now Hip-Hop don't respect you unless you platinum or dead
I'm Van Gogh, Van Gog h
But you don't hear me though
You're too near me not to hear me
Clearly, cut off my ear severely
Van Gogh, Van Gogh, Van Gogh (yeah)
But you don't hear me though
You're too near me not to hear me
Clearly, cut off my ear severely
I'm down wit Violet Brown and ebony cats
Down wit 65 niggaz packin' 70 gats
I'm down wit Shinehead, Big Gipp, Goodie M-O-B
My nigga Twista, Killah Priest, and Pimp C
From UGK, Do Or Die, AK
Qwest the Mad LaD, Wendy Day
I self lord am master art form, metaphors and furthermore
Verbal masterpiece to master war, then master more
Cause a real nigga known to flow rigor mortis to stiffen your riffin'
Thugged out without Bloodin' or Crippin', till the needle start skippin'
The cut fuck your hairline up like Scott Pippen
Huh, hopin' the dummies stop frontin'
I'm like Illmatic, meets the Good Will Huntin'
Vocal innovator, be equal to or greater
Givin' people levels to digest the data
Cause you can't teach algebra to first graders
I'll school a hustler, about the Sixteen Crucified Saviors
Chrishna of India was Black, Quexalcote of Mexico, Black
Buddha was Black, actual facts
But niggaz only wanna know about money, pussy, and crack
I practiced building this strong rap track, and that's that
Phat rap, y'all keepin' it real, well that's wack
My rap snap torso, and crack back
Doin' this, that and the third
Givin' you my ear like Van Gogh, nigga, ya heard
Went to New York state, pushin' rhymes like weight
And watch some of these rap niggaz hate (what in the homo)
But its all love, Ice Cube did it, 2pac did it
And no matter what, I'ma die shittin', motherfucker
Josh Petell wrote "The Disenchanted Hero"
Hell no
I'm Van Gogh, Van Gogh
But you don't hear me though
You're too near me not to hear me
Clearly, cut off my ear severely
Van Gogh, Van Gogh, Van Gogh
But you don't hear me though
You're too near me not to hear me
Clearly, cut off my ear severely
Van Gogh, Van Gogh (yeah)
Cause really though, how I'm supposed to really blow
When you drop a album every 2 years and only shoot one video?
Man, Khalil, they ain't gon' never understand, but don't trip
These labels, these magazines, radio, video shows...
They just as groupie as the groupies
They just as guilty as the artists for not keepin' this shit true
But hey, you gotta love it or leave it alone
An' I still love this ol' Hip-Hop shit
So just respect it when I get my championship ring, you know
Hahaha, yeah, ah
Vita Brevis, Ars Longa
Life is short, art is long
It's been a long time, I shouldn't of left you
But Priority Records be fuckin' up, nephew
Extraterrestrial poet, my pen stroke is grotesque
Rugged nigga, abrasive to any fo'flesh
So let's paint a thousand words worth a picture
Panoramic though, more esoteric than hieroglyphs and scriptures
And chemical mixtures, spit your's, not just kick words
Spit swords when we joust from the mouth dogg
Heard he got the hottest shit out, but Titanic emcees
Somehow manage to freeze
Fracture your flows so bandage your steez, no royalties
Subtract his mathematics like I was droppin' satanic degrees
Long time no see chico, still eatin' pussy at the Nico? (ha haaa)
I'm screamin' "Power to the people"
Most times, genius is misunderstood, but understand
You stand under unstable tables of foundation
My true occupation, dissemination of information
Usin' both sides of the brain, and I ain't complacent
Complain when I speak, fuck Priority Records
Like Prince, I'm writin' "slave" on my cheek, cause my kids gotta eat
Meanwhile A&R's sniffin' coke, gettin' kickbacks, fuck that
My written's like Christ wit a cross on his back
I'll breathe a total Black experience on a track
What use to be hot was what a emcee said
Now Hip-Hop don't respect you unless you platinum or dead
I'm Van Gogh, Van Gog h
But you don't hear me though
You're too near me not to hear me
Clearly, cut off my ear severely
Van Gogh, Van Gogh, Van Gogh (yeah)
But you don't hear me though
You're too near me not to hear me
Clearly, cut off my ear severely
I'm down wit Violet Brown and ebony cats
Down wit 65 niggaz packin' 70 gats
I'm down wit Shinehead, Big Gipp, Goodie M-O-B
My nigga Twista, Killah Priest, and Pimp C
From UGK, Do Or Die, AK
Qwest the Mad LaD, Wendy Day
I self lord am master art form, metaphors and furthermore
Verbal masterpiece to master war, then master more
Cause a real nigga known to flow rigor mortis to stiffen your riffin'
Thugged out without Bloodin' or Crippin', till the needle start skippin'
The cut fuck your hairline up like Scott Pippen
Huh, hopin' the dummies stop frontin'
I'm like Illmatic, meets the Good Will Huntin'
Vocal innovator, be equal to or greater
Givin' people levels to digest the data
Cause you can't teach algebra to first graders
I'll school a hustler, about the Sixteen Crucified Saviors
Chrishna of India was Black, Quexalcote of Mexico, Black
Buddha was Black, actual facts
But niggaz only wanna know about money, pussy, and crack
I practiced building this strong rap track, and that's that
Phat rap, y'all keepin' it real, well that's wack
My rap snap torso, and crack back
Doin' this, that and the third
Givin' you my ear like Van Gogh, nigga, ya heard
Went to New York state, pushin' rhymes like weight
And watch some of these rap niggaz hate (what in the homo)
But its all love, Ice Cube did it, 2pac did it
And no matter what, I'ma die shittin', motherfucker
Josh Petell wrote "The Disenchanted Hero"
Hell no
I'm Van Gogh, Van Gogh
But you don't hear me though
You're too near me not to hear me
Clearly, cut off my ear severely
Van Gogh, Van Gogh, Van Gogh
But you don't hear me though
You're too near me not to hear me
Clearly, cut off my ear severely
Van Gogh, Van Gogh (yeah)
Cause really though, how I'm supposed to really blow
When you drop a album every 2 years and only shoot one video?
Man, Khalil, they ain't gon' never understand, but don't trip
These labels, these magazines, radio, video shows...
They just as groupie as the groupies
They just as guilty as the artists for not keepin' this shit true
But hey, you gotta love it or leave it alone
An' I still love this ol' Hip-Hop shit
So just respect it when I get my championship ring, you know
Direi che mi posso fermare qui.
Ho scelto queste tre canzoni per far capire l'universalità del messaggio che Vincent ci ha trasmesso. Questi autori sono riusciti ad esaltare lati caratteriali diversi del pittore: la rabbia verso il mondo esterno, la sensibilità nel percepire le emozioni che un cielo macchiato di stelle può tramettere e la solitudine profonda in quel mondo irreale e folle che si era costruito attorno a lui.
È come avere un gran fuoco nella propria anima e nessuno viene mai a scaldarvisi, e i passanti non scorgono che un po' di fumo, in alto, fuori del camino e poi se ne vanno per la loro strada.
Chiara.
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