RUNJOTEKA: 2012

Oglejte si video, ker je res vreden ogleda. Zgodba o človeku, ki že meji na znanstveno fantastiko....... ali kako je svet majhen. Doma ne vedo kdo si, na drugem koncu sveta si kralj!
Kako zelo podobno Kristusu. In Rodrigez to tudi je.
Hvala, Majstore!

The story remains one of the music worldís most unusual tales of the 1970s: an obscure debut LP by a Detroit singer-songwriter becomes a source of hope and inspiration to the anti-Apartheid movement in South Africa. Now, the story of Rodriguez and his cult album Cold Fact is the basis for Searching For Sugar Man, a riveting new documentary by filmmaker Malik Bendjelloul. Light In The Attic Records in partnership with Sony Legacy are honored to announce the release of the original motion picture soundtrack, comprising tracks from Cold Fact and its 1971 follow-up Coming From Reality, both reissued in 2008 and 2009 by Light In The Attic. The soundtrack begins with the otherworldly ”Sugar Man” and acts as a primer to this long-overlooked musicianís fusion of gritty funk, political poetry and blissful psych-folk.

Searching For Sugar Man, a Red Box Films & Passion Pictures Production in association with Canfield Pictures & The Documentary Company, distributed by Sony Pictures Classics in the U.S., was a big hit at this year's Sundance Film Festival where it won the world documentary audience award and a special jury award, and then went on to screen at SXSW, Tribeca, and the Sheffield Doc Fest. The film opens in New York, Los Angeles, and London (via Studio Canal) on July 27th and will play in other cities throughout the coming months.

Back in the late 60s, Rodriguez was discovered in a Detroit bar by renowned producers Dennis Coffey and Mike Theodore. They recorded a 1970 album that they believed was going to secure his reputation as one of the greatest recording artists of his generation. Instead, Cold Fact bombed, and despite the release of a second LP, entitled Coming From Reality and produced by Steve Rowland, Rodriguez drifted into obscurity, even being subject to some fantastic rumors of a dramatic onstage death.

Cold Fact took on a life of its own when a bootleg recording found its way into apartheid-era South Africa. Banned by the government, the album became a country-wide phenomenon over the next two decades, and the soundtrack to a resistance movement of liberal African youth. Back in Detroit, working in construction and renovation (he also ran for mayor), Rodriguez was totally unaware that he was not just a folk hero but a household name thousands of miles away.

Decades later, two South African fans, Stephen ”Sugar” Segerman and Craig Bartholomew-Strydom set out to find out what really happened to their hero, and their investigation led them to a story more extraordinary than any of the many myths theyíd heard. Their story forms the basis of Searching For Sugar Man.

Both sides of the story, Rodriguez's life in Detroit and the subsequent impact of his music in South Africa, proved fascinating to Stockholm-based documentary filmmaker Malik Bendjelloul. His short documentary films for Swedish Televisionís international cultural weekly show Kobra became the basis for such films as Men Who Stare At Goats (George Clooney) and The Terminal (Tom Hanks). The evolution of the financing, production, and filming of Searching For Sugar Man is as fascinating and complex as the life of Rodriguez himself.

”I describe myself as "musico-politico",” Rodriguez said recently. ”I was born and bred in Detroit, four blocks from the city center. Back then, I was influenced by the urban sounds that were going on around me all the time. Music is art and art is a cultural force. As far as my work from Detroit comparing to the South African Apartheid, the similarities echo. The placards of the 1970s in the United States read things like: We Want Jobs and Stop the War. I was looking at the music from a working class perspective that was relevant, as it turns out, to the kids in South Africa.”

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SUGAR MAN

Sugar man, won't you hurry
'Cos I'm tired of these scenes
For a blue coin won't you bring back
All those colors to my dreams.

Sugar man met a false friend
On a lonely dusty road
Lost my heart when I found it
It had turned to dead black coal.
Silver magic ships you carry
Jumpers, coke, sweet Mary Jane

Sugar man you're the answer
That makes my questions disappear
Sugar man 'cos I'm weary
Of those double games l hear
------------------------------------------------------------

ONLY GOOD FOR CONVERSATION

My pocket don't drive me fast
My mother treats me slow
My statue's got a concrete heart
But you're the coldest bitch I know

In the factory that you call your mind
Graveyard thoughts of stone
A master thief I wouldn't enter there
You've nothing I would care to own, so help me

You're pretending that you got it made
I know you know you know no truth
You're still serving cookies and kool-aid
You're so proper and so cute

My pocket don't drive me fast
My mother treats me slow
My statue's got a concrete heart
But you're the coldest bitch I know, so help me
--------------------------------------------------------

CRUCIFY YOUR MIND

Was it a huntsman or a player
That made you pay the cost
That now assumes relaxed positions
And prostitutes your loss?
Were you tortured by your own thirst
In those pleasures that you seek
That made you Tom the curious
That makes you James the weak?

And you claim you got something going
Something you call unique
But I've seen your self-pity showing
And the tears rolled down your cheeks.

Soon you know I'll leave you
And I'll never look behind
'Cos I was born for the purpose
That crucifies your mind.
So con, convince your mirror
As you've always done before
Giving substance to shadows
Giving substance ever more.

And you assume you got something to offer
Secrets shiny and new
But how much of you is repetition
That you didn't whisper to him too.
------------------------------------------------------

THIS IS NOT A SONG IT'S AN OUTBURST: OR THE ESTABLISHMENT BLUES

The mayor hides the crime rate
council woman hesitates
Public gets irate but forget the vote date
Weatherman complaining, predicted sun, it's raining
Everyone's protesting, boyfriend keeps suggesting
you're not like all of the rest.

Garbage ain't collected, women ain't protected
Politicians using people, they've been abusing
The mafia's getting bigger, like pollution in the river
And you tell me that this is where it's at.

Woke up this moming with an ache in my head
Splashed on my clothes as I spilled out of bed
Opened the window to listen to the news
But all I heard was the Establishment's Blues.

Gun sales are soaring, housewives find life boring
Divorce the only answer smoking causes cancer
This system's gonna fall soon, to an angry young tune
And that's a concrete cold fact.

The pope digs population, freedom from taxation
Teeny Bops are up tight, drinking at a stoplight
Miniskirt is flirting I can't stop so I'm hurting
Spinster sells her hopeless chest.

Adultery plays the kitchen, bigot cops non-fiction
The little man gets shafted, sons and monies drafted
Living by a time piece, new war in the far east.
Can you pass the Rorschach test?

It's a hassle is an educated guess.
Well, frankly I couldn't care less.
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HATE STREET DIALOGUE

Woman please be gone
You've stayed here much too long
Don't you wish that you could cry
Don't you wish I would die.

Seamy, seesaw kids
Childwoman on the skids
The dust will choke you blind
The lust will choke your mind.

I kiss the floor, one kick no more
The pig and hose have set me free
I've tasted hate street's hanging tree
I've tasted hate street's hanging tree.

I kiss the floor, one kick no more
The pig and hose have set me free
I've tasted hate street's hanging tree
I've tasted hate street's hanging tree.

The inner city birthed me
The local pusher nursed me
Cousins make it in the street
They marry every trick they meet.

A dime, a dollar they're all the same
When a man comes in to bust your game
The turn key comes, his face a grin
Locks the cell I'm in again.

I kiss the floor, one kick no more
The pig and hose have set me free
I've tasted hate street's hanging tree
I've tasted hate street's hanging tree
I've tasted hate street's hanging tree
I've tasted hate street's hanging tree...
----------------------------------------------------

FORGET IT

But thanks for your time
Then you can thank me for mine
And after that's said
Forget it.

Don't be inane
There's no one to blame
No reason why
You should stay here
And lie to me.

Don't say anymore
Just walk out the door
I'll get along fine
You'll see.

But thanks for your time
Then you can thank me for mine
And after that's said
Forget it.

If there was a word
But magic's absurd
I'd make one dream come true.

It didn't work out
But don't ever doubt
How I felt about you.

But thanks for your time
Then you can thank me for mine
And after that's said
Forget it.
----------------------------------------------------

INNER CITY BLUES

Going down a dirty inner city side road
I plotted
Madness passed me by, she smiled hi
I nodded
Looked up as the sky began to cry
She shot it.

Met a girl from Dearborn, early six o'clock this morn
A cold fact
Asked about her bag, suburbia's such a drag
Won't go back
'Cos Papa don't allow no new ideas here
And now he sees the news, but the picture's not too clear.

Mama, Papa, stop
Treasure what you got
Soon you may be caught
Without it
The curfew's set for eight
Will it ever all be straight
I doubt it.

7 jealous fools playing by her rules
Can't believe her
He feels so in between, can't break the scene
It would grieve her
And that's the reason why he must cry
He'll never leave her.

Crooked children, yellow chalk
writing on the concrete walk
Their King died
Drinking from a Judas cup,
looking down but seeing up
Sweet red wine
'Cos Papa don't allow no new ideas here
And now you hear the music
but the words don't sound too clear.

Mama, Papa, stop
Treasure what you got
Soon you may be caught
Without it
The curfew's set for eight
Will it ever all be straight
I doubt it.

Going down a dusty, Georgian side road
I wonder
The wind splashed in my face
can smell a trace
Of thunder.
---------------------------------------------------

I WONDER

I wonder how many times you've been had
And I wonder how many plans have gone bad
I wonder how many times you had sex
I wonder do you know who'll be next
I wonder l wonder wonder I do

I wonder about the love you can't find
And I wonder about the loneliness that's mine
I wonder how much going have you got
And I wonder about your friends that are not
I wonder I wonder I wonder I do

I wonder about the tears in children's eyes
And I wonder about the soldier that dies
I wonder will this hatred ever end
I wonder and worry my friend
I wonder I wonder wonder don't you?

I wonder how many times you been had
And I wonder how many dreams have gone bad
I wonder how many times you've had sex
And I wonder do you care who'll be next
I wonder I wonder wonder I do
-----------------------------------------------------

JANE S. PIDDY

And you measure for wealth by the things you can hold
And you measure for love by the sweet things you're told
And you live in the past or a dream that you're in
And your selfishness is your cardinal sin.

And you want to be held with highest regard
It delights you so much if he's trying so hard
And you try to conceal your ordinary ways
With a smile or a shrug or some stolen cliche.

'Cos emotionally you're the same basic trip
And you know that I know of the times that you've slipped
So don't try to impress me, you're just pins and paint
And don't try to charm me with things that you ain't.

And don't try to enchant me with your manner of dress
'Cos a monkey in silk is a monkey no less
So measure for measure reflect on my said

And when I won't see you then measure it dead.

'Cos don't you understand, and don't you look about
I'm trying to take nothing from you
So why should you act so put out for me?
-------------------------------------------------

GOMMORAH (A NURSERY RHYME)

Come on down and see me
You know my name well
I'm everything you've read
I've got it to sell.

The ladies on my street
Aren't there for their health
Welfare checks don't pave
The road to much wealth.

The cats and the rat things
Go bump through the night
They'll come do a dance thing
Just turn off your light.

Gommorah is a nursery rhyme
You won't find in the book
It's written on your city's face
Just stop and take a look.

A story of pure hate
With pictures between
A tale for your kids
To help them to dream.

Sleep now little children
Don't lose your way
'Cos tourists don't see things
In the clearness of day.

Gommorah is a nursery rhyme
You won't find in the book
It's written on your city's face
Just stop and take a look.
-------------------------------------------------

RICH FOLKS HOAX

The moon is hanging in the purple sky
The baby's sleeping while its mother sighs
Talking 'bout the rich folks
Rich folks have the same jokes
And they park in basic places.

The priest is preaching from a shallow grave
He counts his money, then he paints you saved
Talking to the young folks
Young folks share the same jokes
But they meet in older places.

So don't tell me about your success
Nor your recipes for my happiness
Smoke in bed
I never could digest
Those illusions you claim to have going.

The sun is shining, as it's always done
Coffin dust is the fate of everyone
Talking 'bout the rich folks
The poor create the rich hoax
And only late breast-fed fools believe it.

So don't tell me about your success
Nor your recipes for my happiness
Smoke in bed
I never could digest
Those illusions you claim to have going.
---------------------------------------------------

LIKE JANIS

Now you sit there thinking feeling insecure
The mocking court gesture (jester) claims there is no proven cure
Go back to your chamber, your eyes upon the wall
'Cos you got no one to listen, you got no one to call

And you think I'm curious

Drifting, drowning in a purple sea of doubt
You wanna hear she loves you,
but the words don't fit the mouth
You're a loser, a rebel, a cause without

But don't think me callous

Dancing Rosemary, disappearing sister Ruth
It's just your yellow appetite
that has you choking on the truth
You gave in, you gave out, outlived your dream of youth

And I can't get jealous

So go on, you'll continue with your nose so open wide
Knocking on that door that says Hurry come inside
But don't bother to buy insurance 'cos you've already died

And you can't be serious

I saw my reflection in my father's final tears
The wind was slowly melting, San Francisco disappears
Acid heads, unmade beds, and you Woodward world queers

I know you're lonely
I know you're lonely
I know you're lonely...

Spoken:
Thanks for your time
And you can thank me for mine
And after that's said
Forget it.

Bag it, man

(Okay)

CLIMB UP ON MY MUSIC

Have you ever had a fever,
From a bitter-sweet refrain,
Have you ever kissed the sunshine,
Walked between the rain.

Well, just climb up on my music,
And my songs will set you free,
Well, just climb up on my music,
And from there jump off with me.

Well, there was a girl named Christmas,
Did I tell ya she drank gold,
She wasn't very hard to capture,
But she was rather hard to hold.

Well, just climb up on my music,
And my songs will set you free,
Well, just climb up on my music,
And from there jump off with me.

Have you ever been in darkness,
And your mind could find no peace,
When you woke up after midnight,
Found your swans have turned to geese.

Well, just climb up on my music,
And my songs will set you free,
Well, just climb up on my music,
And from there jump off with me.
---------------------------------------------------

A MOST DISGUSTING SONG

I've played every kind of gig there is to play now
I've played faggot bars, hooker bars, motorcycle funerals
In opera houses, concert halls, halfway houses.

Well I found that in all these places that I've played
all the people that I've played for are the same people
So if you'll listen, maybe you'll see someone you know in this song.

A most disgusting song.

The local diddy bop pimp comes in
Acting limp he sits down with a grin
next to a girl that has never been chased
The bartender wipes a smile off his face
The delegates cross the floor,
curtsy and promenade through the doors,
and slowly the evening begins.

And there's Jimmy "Bad Luck" Butts
who's just crazy about them East Lafayette weekend sluts
Talking is the lawyer in crumpled up shirt
And everyone's drinking the detergents
that cannot remove their hurts

While the Mafia provides your drugs,
your government will provide the shrugs,
and your national guard will supply the slugs,
so they sit all satisfied.

And there's old playboy Ralph
who's always been shorter than himself,
and there's a man with his chin in his hand,
who knows more than he'll ever understand.

Yeah, every night it's the same old thing
Getting high, getting drunk, getting horny
At the Inn-Between, again.

And there's the bearded schoolboy with the wooden eyes
Who at every scented skirt whispers up and sighs
and there's a teacher that will kiss you in French
Who could never give love, could only fearfully clench

Yeah, people every night it's the same old thing
Getting pacified, ossified, affectionate at Mr. Flood's party, again

And there's the militant with his store-bought soul
There's someone here who's almost a virgin I've been told
And there's Linda glass-made who speaks of the past
who genuflects, salutes, signs the cross and stands at half mast

Yeah, They're all here, the Tiny Tims and the Uncle Toms,
redheads, brunettes, brownettes and the dyed haired blondes,
Who talk to dogs, chase broads and have hopes of being mobbed,
who mislay their dreams and later claim that they were robbed

And every night it's going to be the same old thing
Getting high, getting drunk, getting horny
Lost, even, at Martha's Vineyard, again
---------------------------------------------------

I THINK OF YOU

Just a song we shared I'll hear
Brings memories back when you were here
Of your smile, your easy laughter
Of your kiss those moments after
I think of you
And I think of you
And think of you.
Of the dreams we dreamt together
Of the love we vowed would never
Melt like snowflakes in the sun
My days now end, as they begun
With thoughts of you
And I think of you
And think of you.
* Down the streets I'd walk with you
* Seeing others doing
* Things we used to do.
* Now these thoughts they're haunting me
* Of how complete, I used to be
* And in these times that we're apart
* I'll hear that song that breaks my heart
* And I think of you
* And think of you.{bis.
* Refrain...
And I do.
* Refrain...
---------------------------------------------------

ON HEIKKI'S SUBURBIA BUS TOUR

Did you read the Sunday paper
about the strong stomached 25
Who from an expedition
All came back alive
From that hostile country
Where only the stones survive
On Heikki's suburbia bus tour one.

Picture-taking tourist
The war was half a deal
The natives can't believe it
It all seems so unreal
Just to ask the question,
Now how does it feel
On Heikki's suburban bus tour ride

2,752 un-scheduled stops
Watch them kill the crabgrass
But look out for the cops
Hospitals for flowers
The matron ladies cry
Itchy trigger fingers
as our caravan walks by
Overcrowded laughter
'cause they're all four gallons high
On Heikki's suburbia bus tour ride

Read the Sunday paper
though you may disagree
About the maiden voyage of poets A to Zee
None confuse to answer
That happiness is free
On Heikki's suburbia bus tour ride
---------------------------------------------------

SILVER WORLDS

Baby I ain't joking
And it's not what I'm smoking
I really think you're nice
Don't think I'm kidding
And don't think that I'm bidding
If silver words are your price

But oh if you could see
The change you've made in me
That the angels in the skies
Were envious and surprised
That anyone as nice as you
Would chance with me

But oh if you could see
The change you've made in me
That the angels in the skies
Were envious and surprised
That anyone as nice as you
Would chance with me
---------------------------------------------------

SANDREVAN LULLABY - LIFESTYLES

The generals hate holidays
Others shoot up to chase the sun blues away
Another store front church is open
Sea of neon lights, a boxer his shadow fights
Soldier tired and sailor broken
Winter's asleep at my window
Cold wind waits at my door
She asks me up to her place
But I won't be down anymore

Judges with metermaid hearts
Order super market justice starts
Frozen children inner city
Walkers in the paper rain
Waiting for those knights that never came
The hi-jacked trying so hard to be pretty

Night rains tap at my window
Winds of my thoughts passing by
She laughed when I tried to tell her
Hello only ends in goodbye

America gains another pound
Only time will bring some people around
Idols and flags are slowly melting
Another shower of rice
To pair it for some will suffice
The mouthful asks for second helpings

Moonshine pours through my window
The night puts it's laughter away
Clouds that pierce the illusion
That tomorrow would be as yesterday...
---------------------------------------------------

TO WHOM IT MY CONCERN

Don't sit and wait
Don't sit and dream
Put on a smile
Go find a scene
I'm sure you'd meet
Someone who would really love you

Don't sit and hope
Don't sit and pine
If you've been hurt
Make up your mind
I'm sure you'd find
Someone who would really love you

I don't know why you sit around
I only know if love is gone
Don't sit alone with your pride

To whom this may concern to say
Don't wait for love to come your way
Don't waste your time
Make up your mind
And make it happen

I don't know why you sit around
I only know if love is gone
Don't sit alone with your pride
Listen to me and you would see
Just how fine your romance could be

I don't know why you sit around
I only know if love is gone
Don't sit alone with your pride
Listen to me and you would see
Just how fine your romance could be
---------------------------------------------------

IT STARTED OUT SO NICE

It started out with butterflies
On a velvet afternoon
With flashing eyes and promises
Caught and held too soon
In a place called Ixea
With it's pumpkin oval moon

It started out so nice

Genji taught Orion
Sea-purple harmony
While Kogi hit secrets into seashells
And even the ocean laughed
beneath that celestial canopy

Cuz it started out so nice

With the dust of stars they intermingled
Durock of Avon would only jingle
Marble money tunes
As pale earthly circles swooned

Volume left Bohemia, a triangle for his thumb
Questions fell but no one stopped to listen
That eternity was just a dawn away
And the rest was sure to come
Leaves, caught in winter's ice

Abandoned circus grounds of flower captains
Prisms in a palm one way it happens
The air was silver calm
The softly met were slowly moving on

Then all things in common suddenly grew strange
Now the Wurs were chasing other rainbows
Trying to find where the wind blows
To empty corners past dusty memories

Now in the third millennium the crowded madness came
Crooked shadows roamed through the nights
The wizards overplayed their names
And after that the Wurs never bothered to have
Summer reasons...again,
but it started out so nice
it started out so nice

We started out so nice.
---------------------------------------------------

HALFWAY UP THE STAIRS

I'm only halfway up the stairs
Not up or down
I'm only halfway up the stairs
Since you let me down
So won't you tell me
Tell me please
What you're gonna do
Cause you know I wouldn't be halfway with you

I don't want to seem impatient
And please don't think me fast
but we've got something going
And I don't want to let it pass
so won't you tell me,
Tell me please
What you're gonna do
'Cause you know I wouldn't be halfway with you

I don't want to seem impatient
And please don't think me fast
But we've got something going
And I don't want to let it pass
So won't you tell me,
Tell me please
What you're gonna do
Cause you know I wouldn't be halfway with you
---------------------------------------------------

CAUSE

Cause I lost my job two weeks before Christmas
And I talked to Jesus at the sewer
And the Pope said it was none of his God-damned business
While the rain drank champagne

My Estonian Archangel came and got me wasted
Cause the sweetest kiss I ever got is the one I've never tasted
Oh but they'll take their bonus pay to Molly McDonald,
Neon ladies, beauty is that which obeys, is bought or borrowed

Cause my heart's become a crooked hotel full of rumours
But it's I who pays the rent for these fingered-face out-of-tuners
and I make 16 solid half hour friendships every evening

Cause your queen of hearts who is half a stone
And likes to laugh alone is always threatening you with leaving
Oh but they play those token games on Willy Thompson
And give a medal to replace the son of Mrs. Annie Johnson

Cause they told me everybody's got to pay their dues
And I explained that I had overpaid them
So overdued I went to the company store
and the clerk there said that they had just been invaded
So I set sail in a teardrop and escaped beneath the doorsill

Cause the smell of her perfume echoes in my head still
Cause I see my people trying to drown the sun
In weekends of whiskey sours
Cause how many times can you wake up in this comic book and plant flowers?
---------------------------------------------------

CAN'T GET AWAY

Born in the troubled city
In Rock and Roll, USA
In the shadow of the tallest building
I vowed I would break away
Listened to the Sunday actors
But all they would ever say

That you can't get away from it
No you can't get away
No you can't get away from it
No you can't get away

Schooled on the city sidewalks
Coldness at every turn
Knew I had to find the exits
I never, ever would return
Scoffed at the prophet's omens
That said I would live to learn

That you can't get away from it
no you can't get away
no you can't get away from it
no you can't get away

Going unaided toward the west coast
Stopped in the sleepy town
Left my change and walked out
I didn't even turn around
What they were getting next to
Was that old familiar sound

That you can't get away from it
no you can't get away
no you can't get away from it
no you can't get away

In a hotel room in Amsterdam
On a wild and windy August night
As a cloud passed over a cold moon
My heart was seized with terror and fright
Seeping up through the floorboards
Coming in through the walls
Coming in through the doorway
Ringing up and down the halls

That you can't get away from it
no you can't get away
no you can't get away from it
no you can't get away

no you can't get away
no you can't get away
no you can't get away...
---------------------------------------------------

STREET BOY

Street boy
You've been out too long
Street boy
Ain't you got enough sense to go home
Street boy
You're gonna end up alone
You need some love and understanding
Not that dead-end life you're planning
Street boy

You go home but you can't stay
Because something's always pulling you away
Your fast hellos and quick goodbyes
You're just a street boy
With the streetlights in your eyes
You better get yourself together
Look for something better

Street boy
You've been out too long
Street boy
Ain't you got enough sense to go home
Street boy
You're gonna end up alone
You need some love and understanding
Not that dead-end life you're planning
Street boy

Your sister says that every week
You just come home to eat and go to sleep
And you make plans you never keep
Because your mind is always in the streets
You better get yourself together
Look for something better

Street boy
You've been out too long
Street boy
Ain't you got enough sense to go home
Street boy
You're gonna end up alone
You need some love and understanding
Not that dead-end life you're planning
Street boy

There's one last word then I'll conclude
Before you pick up and put on your attitude
Bet you'll never find or ever meet
Any street boy who's ever beat the streets

Street boy
Street boy
Street boy
Street boy
Street boy
Street boy

Sweet boy
---------------------------------------------------

I'LL SLIP AWAY

And I'll forget about the girl that said no
Then I'll tell who I want where to go
And I'll forget about your lies and deceit
And your attempts to be so discreet

Maybe today, yeah
I'll slip away

And you can keep your symbols of success
Then I'll pursue my own happiness
And you can keep your clocks and routines
Then I'll go mend all my shattered dreams

Maybe today, yeah
I'll slip away

Cause you've been down on me for too long
And for too long I just put you on
Now I'm tired of lying and I'm sick of trying
Cause I'm losing who I really am
And I'm not choosing to be like them

And if you get bored and you got loneliness
Or it's dislike for me you express
I won't care if you're right or you're wrong
I won't care cause you see I'll be gone

Maybe today, yeah
I'll slip away

Maybe today, yeah
Maybe today, yeah
Maybe today, yeah girl
I'll slip away

Fact: Rodriguez lives

Craig Bartholomew tracked down Rodriguez, who is alive, well, living in Detroit and planning to tour South Africa next month

‘Thanks for your time, and you can thank me for mine, and after that’s said, forget it!” were the poignant last words spoken, live on stage, before blowing his head off. That, at least, was one of the rumours. Others claimed he murdered his wife and was now in jail. Some said he was blind (“open the window and listen to the news”). Most of those asked were quite sure he was dead, perhaps because of the numerous references to drugs on both albums. A cold fact!

It was this anomaly - one that just kept on selling albums - that spurred me to find the truth, and as a bonus, the man behind the truth, Sixto Rodriguez.

In 1972 the album Cold Fact was released in the United States by a folk singer known only as Rodriguez. It sold so badly that it was deleted. When released in South Africa though, it did so well that the record company released his earlier “no-hit” album Coming from Reality, disguised and renamed After the Fact. And then came 24 long years of nothing. No new albums, no music videos, no tours, no publicity - only rumours.

In 1996 I determined to find the man, dead or alive. After nine months, 72 telephone calls, 45 faxes, 142 e-mails, long nights reading through encyclopaedias, music books, dead ends, loose ends and fag ends I reached him. “Yes ... it is I, Sixto [Seez- to] Rodriguez,” said the voice on the other end of the telephone.

Finding out just where he’d been in all this time was not an easy task. He is a private man and has his “own concept of the universe”. For someone who once sang, “The mayor hides the crime rate ... the public forgets the vote date,” it was surprising he had actually run for mayor of Detroit seven times. And although he hasn’t released any albums since 1974 he still plays and sings, has toured Australia twice, has fathered two daughters. He still has long hair, is fit and is bringing out a new album. What’s more, he’ll be in South Africa next month.

I spoke to him recently by phone.

Rodriguez: So, tell me about yourself?

CB: I was born in Kimberley, a very dry and dusty mining town with a mentality to match, and literally hours after my last school exam, I got the hell out.

R: Next question ... How do they celebrate a diamond festival?

CB: Hey! Who’s doing this interview?

R: Okay, I like to tell people that I was born on Michigan Avenue, five blocks from the centre of Detroit.

CB: I’ve had a hard time in South Africa convincing people that you are alive and kicking. Why do you think this impression exists?

R: Imaginations working overtime. Your personal intervention, though, has energised my tour to South Africa.

CB: In A Most Disgusting Song you say you’ve “played faggot bars, hooker bars, motorcycle funerals, opera houses, concert halls and even half-way houses”. Are you still playing?

R: I am working on a project with Mike Theodore at the moment [producer on the 1972 Cold Fact album].

CB: Do you think everyone is in some way an artist?

R: Yes, art is in all of us. We all have a talent. It is up to us to listen and draw within ourselves and pull out the words, the form or some creative action.

CB: Your family’s from Mexico, are they not?

R: Yeah, immigrated to the US in the 1920s.

CB: This reminds me of one of my favourite pieces, a song by Pat Metheny called Sueo con Mexico.

R: Yes, “I dream with Mexico”. I’ve heard the piece. Overlapping guitars. In my opinion, the guitar is central in popular music. Guitars have evolved, changed shape, become electrified. It is one of the most unifying language tools in the world. I’d be lost without one.

CB: Your daughter Eva says she has fond memories of you and your brothers sitting on your father’s porch jamming and singing Mexican music, James Taylor, Billy Joel, Hank Williams and others. What’s your earliest musical memory?

R: I began playing at 16 on a family guitar and it altered my life.

CB: There’s something wonderful about trying to understand a new culture. Tell me about your summer with American Indians.

R: It was a great summer. We went swimming in Grand Bend and to pow-wows [a magical Indian ceremony] throughout Michigan. As far back as 1974 I was involved in organising an American-Indian pow-wow at Wayne State University Campus.

CB: ... where you studied philosophy?

R: Yes, but to get back to American Indians ... theirs is a vibrant and natural culture.

CB: What is the significance of the little grey shoe on the Coming from Reality album cover [released in South Africa as After the Fact].

R: The shoe had no real meaning. The photographer, Hal Wilson, came in from New York. We walked around Detroit and saw the house. Debris was laying around and the shoe was nearby. I took it and placed it beside mine. We only took seven shots for the album cover. Milton Sincoff designed the cover with Buddha Records and we said at the time: if the album doesn’t make it, the cover will!

CB: In your music you mention names like Jane S Piddy, Molly MacDonald and Willlie Thompson. Who are they?

R: The people are fictional. I tapped on the writer’s poetic licence giving them names and shape. Almost as a caricature works for the visual artist.

CB: Coming from Reality was recorded in Britain, yet I could not find one single copy there.

R: We spent 30 wonderful days recording the Reality album. We stayed in Belgravia, London. I really don’t know what happened with the distribution, though.

CB: Why was your masterpiece, Cold Fact, largely ignored in the US?

R: “Masterpiece”? You’re too kind. It was the first product released on the Sussex label, owned by Clarence Avant [today’s Motown head]. It’s all right that it happened this way.

CB: What is your view on drugs such as cannabis, as in your song Sugar Man?

R: Clearly alcohol is a much more destructive substance. Weed is a natural substance. Less harmful and helpful in some cases. The way I see it is when the law catches up with reality, change will come. There’s a group in Michigan called Normal trying to “decriminalise” dope and a guy on the West Coast running for governor of California who produces the substance for medical purposes.

CB: I heard that there’s some link between you and the band Midnight Oil?

R: I feel that Midnight Oil is a top band. I first watched them perform in 1981. I witnessed their powerful stage performance at past two in the morning in the freezing cold of the Australian wind. It was so cold that as Peter Garrett performed steam was rising from his head. It was almost phantom-like. He is musical, political and international. I also love the Stones. For me, Mick Jagger is king, but Peter Garrett is also high on the list of musical aristocracy. I’ve been lucky to have been backstage with Midnight Oil on several occasions. We were on the same bill in Australia in 1981 ... it was a trip!

CB: Detroit is a city of soul music. Strange that you got your first recording break there?

R: There is a wide range of labels that pick up on Detroit talents. From a macro perspective, I feel we live in the age of sound. Like the Bronze Age or Stone Age. Today, we are all given so many clues about life through sound.

20 FEB 1998 STAFF REPORTER

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