Escrita por
Bob Dylan, foi gravada em 15 de janeiro de 1965, nos estúdios da
Columbia Records, em New York City. Foi lançada em 22 de março de
1965 no disco Bringind it all back home. Foi escrita no verão de
1964 e tocada pela primeira vez ao vivo em 10 de outubro de 1964. A
canção é considerada uma obra prima de Dylan, que traz imagens
memoráveis.
Entre as
frases mais conhecidas estao: “Money doesn't talk, it swears”,
“He is not busy being born, he is busy dying” e “Even the
president of the United States sometimes must have to stand naked”.
A letra expressa a raiva de Dylan com a hipocrisia, o comercialismo,
consumismo, e toda a cultura contemporanea americana, mas ao
contrário das músicas anteriores, ele não expressa otimismo na
possibilidade de soluções políticas.
Foi gravada
no mesmo dia que Mr. Tambourine man, Gates of Eden e It's all over
now, baby blue. Tom Wilson foi o produtor. O único acompanhamento é
o violão de Dylan, tocando riffs de folk blues, subindo e descendo,
na progressão dos acordes.
A estrutura
de acordes dessa canção é similar à usada pelos Everly Brothers
em Wake up little Susie. Críticos sugerem que a canção diz que o
problema político mais importante do nosso tempo é que nós somos
todos alimentados com um falso quadro da realidade e que isso chega
até nós a partir de todas as direções possíveis.
É um
indivíduo alienado que começar a identificar as caracteristicas do
mundo ao redor dele e que declara sua liberdade dessas regras. Dylan
canta com uma nova voz profetica que seria sua marca registrada. Essa
é a música até então com uma figura poetica mais complexa da
carreira dele.
Começa
canção com o apocalítico trecho: “Darkness at the
break of noon/Shadows even the silver spoon/The handmade blade, the
child's balloon/Eclipses both the sun and moon/To understand you know
too soon/There is no sense in trying.”
Provavelmente
a frase inicial se refere ao livro Darkness at noon, que se passa na
Russia Soviética em 1938, no periodo de Stalin. A canção tambem
traz muitos elementos do Livro do Eclasiastes. A canção continua
desfiando frases e pensamentos desconcertantes, até acabar dizendo
que se as pessoas visse o que ele pensa, com certeza a cabeça dele
iria parar numa guilhotina: “And if my
thought-dreams could be seen/They'd probably put my head in a
guillotine/But it's alright, Ma, it's life and life only”.
A canção é cantada quase sem Dylan
respirar, muito rapidamente. Dylan disse que It's alright, Ma (I'm
only bleeding) é uma de suas canções que ele mais considera
importantes. Em 1980, ele disse que não conseguiria sentar e
escrever It's alright, Ma (I'm only bleeding), que não saberia nem
como começar. Em 1997, ele disse que existem canções que ele
olhava pra trás e pensava: “Uau, como fiz isso?”, e essa canção
era uma delas.
Já foi
regravada por Roger McGuinn, pro filme Easy Rider, pois Peter Fonda
iria usar a versão de Dylan, mas não pôde por questoes de direitos
autorais e então pediu à McGuinn pra gravar uma versão e resolveu
o problema. Nessa gravação, McGuinn canta e toca violão e Gene
Parsons, dos Byrds, toca gaita.
Também foi
regravada pelos Byrds, Nannie Parres, Bettina Jonic, Billy Preston,
Terence Trenty D'Arby, Caetano Veloso, Mick Farren, Lee Abramson,
entre outros.
A letra:
Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying.
Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fools gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proved to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.
Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying.
So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to you ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.
As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred.
Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their marks
Made everything from toy guns that sparks
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.
While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the President of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.
An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.
Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you.
You loose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand without nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you.
A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not forget
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.
Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.
For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despite their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something
They invest in.
While some on principles baptized
To strict party platforms ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God Bless him.
While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he's in.
But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.
Old lady judges, watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony.
While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes
Must get lonely.
My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
False gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough
What else can you show me ?
And if my thought-dreams could been seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying.
Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fools gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proved to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.
Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying.
So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to you ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.
As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred.
Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their marks
Made everything from toy guns that sparks
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.
While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the President of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.
An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.
Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you.
You loose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand without nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you.
A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not forget
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.
Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.
For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despite their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something
They invest in.
While some on principles baptized
To strict party platforms ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God Bless him.
While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he's in.
But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.
Old lady judges, watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony.
While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes
Must get lonely.
My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
False gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough
What else can you show me ?
And if my thought-dreams could been seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.
Bob Dylan ao vivo em Manchester,
Inglaterra, em 1965, com It's alright, Ma (I'm only bleeding):
A versão de Roger
McGuinn pro filme Easy Rider, de 1969:
A versão de Terence
Trenty D'Arby:
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