„Gustavo“

I wrote a check and I bought an old house
I got a TV and a worn-out couch
Hired a guy named Gustavo and his fri­ends
To fix it up from the foun­da­tion
Oh god, those mother­fu­ckers drove me nuts
With their elec­tri­cal saws and mariachi music
But they really step­ped it up man
And put their backs into it
But they lived pretty far away

They wan­ted to stay for a cou­ple of months
​’Til the work got done and I said sure
Made ​‘em a key and got ​‘em a micro­wave
Gustavo was an ille­gal immi­grant
He took the money that I gave him
And he went and spent it on strip­pers and casi­nos
And every once in a while with them I’d go
It gets bor­ing out in the moun­ta­ins, you know
Chop­ping wood, fal­ling asleep to the TV snow
Making ground beef tacos
On the top of a pot­bel­lied stove
Eating nood­les from a Sty­ro­foam cup
Wai­ting for a ride that never shows up
Wal­king into town, brow­sing the win­dows
Loo­king at rif­les, loo­king at ammo

At night when everything’s clo­sed
In my wet boots, in my win­ter clo­thes
One night they were hea­ded for Tahoe
They asked me along but I said fuck no
​’Cause I was tired and my money was tight
And they just laug­hed and said alright
And on the way back they got stop­ped
By a red­neck sun­ny­side high­way cop

Gustavo was drunk and had an ounce of pot
And spent the night on a jail­house cot
They depor­ted him back to Mexico
He cal­led me coll­ect from a Tijuana pay phone
Asking man, could you wire me money?
2500 for a bor­der coyote
He nee­ded work and he missed his family
But I hung up and I said I’m sorry
But I hung up and I felt uneasy
I hung up and my heart was heavy
I hung up and my back was aching

Picking up the work they’d left in front of me
The demoed walls and the pul­led up flo­ors
The bus­ted up cabi­nets and the bro­ken dra­wers
The kit­chen sink was lay­ing in the back­yard
And I loo­ked down and my hands were trembling
And I loo­ked up and my roof was lea­king
Now I still sleep on my beat-up old couch
In the living room of my unfi­nis­hed house
I got a licen­sed con­trac­tor
But he quit cause his wife was dying of can­cer
But what the hell, I’m just here try­ing to find answers

To find peace of mind, to get a piece of the rock
A place to put my men­tal clock
And my old gui­tars and gently rock
Back and forth in my front porch chair
Wit­hout a worry, wit­hout a care
I’m doing alright but I’m still not there
My house ain’t done, but it’s alright
Flo­ors ain’t level, but I ain’t some sub­ur­ban
Who cares about bath­room tiles
Straight lines and buil­ding codes and Chi­nese wind chi­mes
My house ain’t done, but it’s fine
Come out here from time to time

In Decem­ber for the snow
And in July to watch the roses
My gar­de­ner asks had I seen Gustavo?
I just laug­hed and I said fuck no
Not since that night he left
His hair com­bed back, hea­ded for Tahoe
My girl­fri­end asked had I heard from that guy from Mexico?

I said you mean Gustavo?
And I just laug­hed and I said no
Not since he cal­led from the Tijuana pay phone
Really I don’t give much thought to Gustavo
I love to go out to the moun­ta­ins, though
And in the fall, feel the breeze blow
And in the win­ter, watch the fal­ling snow
And in the spring, love the rain­bows
And in the sum­mer smell the roses
White and red and yellow

Mark Koz­elek kennt man unter sei­nem Pseud­onym Sun Kil Moon oder als Sän­ger der Red House Pain­ters, wäh­rend der ehe­ma­lige Tris­teza-Gitar­rist Jimmy LaValle vor allem mit sei­nem Musik­pro­jekt The Album Leaf in Ver­bin­dung gebracht wird – beide eint ihre Vor­liebe für äußerst melan­cho­li­sche Sounds. Im Sep­tem­ber 2011 setz­ten sich die bei­den Musi­ker zusam­men, um einen gemein­sa­men Song auf­zu­neh­men. Die­ser erste Track, ​„What Hap­pened to My Brot­her“, wurde schließ­lich zum Ope­ner ihres Albums ​„Perils From the Sea.“ Zu den schwer­mü­ti­gen Syn­the­si­zer-Kom­po­si­tio­nen LaVal­les erzählt Koz­elek simple, aber ergrei­fende Geschich­ten, die größ­ten­teils sehr auto­bio­gra­fisch klin­gen. Die Story über den Ein­wan­de­rer Gustavo erstreckt sich – ebenso wie fünf wei­tere Songs – über mehr als sie­ben Minu­ten. Koz­elek per­formt seine Erzäh­lun­gen dabei so detail­liert, bedacht und lebens­nah, dass man gebannt sei­nem Sprech­ge­sang lauscht.