É uma emoção profunda poder resgatar da memória do tempo e dividir com os leitores deste site essas músicas que embalaram a minha  juventude e que levarei para a eternidade. Tive o cuidado de selecionar artistas talvez menos conhecidos pela atual juventude  brasileira e, com isso, tentar corrigir uma injustiça para com esses “monstros musicais geniais” da história da pop/rock music. Gente como John B. Sebastian do Lovin’ Spoonful, o grande Neil Young que iniciou sua carreira na América com o Buffalo Springfield, o maravilhoso bardo escocês, Donovan Leitch,, as divinas Mary Travers e Sandy Denny, do Peter Paul & Mary e do Fairport Convention, respectivamente e Matthew Fisher do Procol Harum.  Inesquecíveis.  

 

 

Pode ser uma imagem de texto que diz "Pérolas Musicais do passado"

 

 

 

 

“Darling be home soon”   –  Resultado de imagem para the lovin spoonful  The  Lovin’  Spoonful  (1967)

 

Come
And talk of all the things we did today
Here
And laugh about our funny little ways
While we have a few minutes to breathe
Then I know that it’s time you must leave
But, darling, be home soon
I couldn’t bear to wait an extra minute if you dawdled
My darling, be home soon
It’s not just these few hours, but I’ve been waiting since I toddled
For the great relief of having you to talk to
And now
A quarter of my life is almost past
I think I’ve come to see myself at last
And I see that the time spent confused
Was the time that I spent without you
And I feel myself in bloom
So, darling, be home soon
I couldn’t bear to wait an extra minute if you dawdled
My darling, be home soon
It’s not just these few hours, but I’ve been waiting since I toddled
For the great relief of having you to talk to
So, darling
My darling, be home soon
I couldn’t bear to wait an extra minute if you dawdled
My darling, be home soon
It’s not just these few hours, but I’ve been waiting since I toddled
For the great relief of having you to talk to
Go
And beat your crazy head against the sky
Try
And see beyond the houses and your eyes
It’s okay to shoot the moon
Darling be home soon
I couldn’t bear to wait an extra minute if you dawdled
My darling, be home soon
It’s not just these few hours, but I’ve been waiting since I toddled
For the great relief of having you to talk to
(John B. Sebastian)

 

 

“Expecting to Fly”  – Resultado de imagem para the buffalo springfield The Buffalo Springfield  (1967)

 

 

There you stood on the edge of your feather
Expecting to fly
While I laughed, I wondered whether
I could wave goodbye
Knowin’ that you’d gone
By the summer it was healing
We had said goodbye
All the years we’d spent with feeling
Ended with a cry
Babe, ended with a cry
Babe, ended with a cry
I tried so hard to stand
As I stumbled and fell to the ground
So hard to laugh as I fumbled
And reached for the love I found
Knowin’ it was gone
If I never lived without you
Now you know I’d die
If I never said I loved you
Now you know I’d try
Babe, now you know I’d try
Babe, now you know I’d try
Babe
(Neil Young)

 

 

 

“Isle of Islay”  –Resultado de imagem para donovan leitch  Donovan  Leitch  (1967)

 

How high the gulls fly
O’er Islay
How sad the farm lad
Deep in play
Felt like a grain on your sand
How well the sheep’s bell
Music makes
Roving the cliff
When fancy takes
Felt like a tide left me here
How blessed the forest
With birdsong
How neat the cut peat
Laid so long
Felt like a seed on your land
(Donovan Leitch)

“Yesterday’s Tomorrow”  –Resultado de imagem para peter paul and mary  Peter, Paul & Mary  (1968)

 

 

Your shadows are fading, folding into mine;
Elusive my vision, sliding into time.
And softly I wake ‘mid settling snow
Disturbing the morning with something I know.
Off in the distance, caring for me
Who could it be this stranger?
Watching and waiting in a wholly different way;
Halting and helpless, what will be today?
Where was I when I met me?
That person I remember you used to be.
And now that I know you, the you that is me
Where will it lead, this stranger?
Where will it lead, where will it lead, this stranger?
Maybe tomorrow’s wanting this today:
Gently will follow loving yesterday.
And maybe I’ll know the truth that I knew.
Then maybe, maybe I’ll even love you.
But now that I’m feeling the me that’s to be
Enjoying in you my stranger.
Where will it lead, where will it lead, this stranger?
(Compositores: Bob Dorough / Laura Popper / Mary Allin Travers)

 

 

 

 

“Pilgrim’s Progress”  –Resultado de imagem para procol harum  Procol  Harum  (1969)

 

 

I sat me down to write a simple story
which maybe in the end became a song
In trying to find the words which might begin it
I found these were the thoughts I brought along
At first I took my weight to be an anchor
and gathered up my fears to guide me round
but then I clearly saw my own delusion
and found my struggles further bogged me down
In starting out I thought to go exploring
and set my foot upon the nearest road
In vain I looked to find the promised turning
but only saw how far I was from home
In searching I forsook the paths of learning
and sought instead to find some pirate’s gold
In fighting I did hurt those dearest to me
and still no hidden truths could I unfold
I sat me down to write a simple story
which maybe in the end became a song
The words have all been writ by one before me
We’re taking turns in trying to pass them on
Oh, we’re taking turns in trying to pass them on

 

(Writer(s): Keith Reid, Matthew Charles Fisher)

 

 

 

 

“Crazy Man Michael”  –Resultado de imagem para fairport convention  Fairport  Convention  (1969)

 

 

Within the fire and out upon the sea
Crazy Man Michael was walking
He met with a raven with eyes black as coals
And shortly they were a-talking
Your future, your future I would tell to you
Your future you often have asked me
Your true love will die by your own right hand
And crazy man Michael will cursèd be
Michael he ranted and Michael he raved
And beat up the four winds with his fists-o
He laughed and he cried, he shouted and he swore
For his mad mind had trapped him with a kiss-o
You speak with an evil, you speak with a hate
You speak for the devil that haunts me
For is she not the fairest in all the broad land
Your sorcerer’s words are to taunt me
He took out his dagger of fire and of steel
And struck down the raven through the heart-o
The bird fluttered long and the sky it did spin
And the cold earth did wonder and startle
O where is the raven that I struck down dead
And here did lie on the ground-o
I see that my true love with a wound so red
Where her lover’s heart it did pound-o
Crazy Man Michael he wanders and calls
And talks to the night and the day-o
But his eyes they are sane and his speech it is plain
And he longs to be far away-o
Michael he whistles the simplest of tunes
And asks the wild wolves their pardon
For his true love is flown into every flower grown
And he must be keeper of the garden
(Compositores: Thompson Richard John / Swarbrick David Eric)

P.S. : Esta postagem e essas músicas são uma homenagem a meu amado irmão Fernando José, aonde quer que ele esteja