Sweet Come Down Saturday

Saturday is here in all its glory… gentle breeze, the old dog sleeping at my feet and a handful of quiet hours stretching out before me. And here are a few of the songs that will carry me through. Saturday morning come downs never sounded so sweet…

 

Sweet Come Down – The Black Ryder

The Black Ryder blend fuzzed out noise, hypnotic rhythms and a sweet country twang to create a sound all of their own. Sweet Come Down showcases the vocal interplay of Aimee Nash and Scott Von Ryper – Nash’s voice floating and ethereal, Ryper’s cracked and earthy. It burns slowly and then it is gone… crawling into a corner of your consciousness and asking to be played again. Don’t expect any hooks from this band… just settle in for the ride.

 

Soon It Will Be Fire – Richard Youngs

Richard Youngs is one of those incredibly prolific talents, recording more than 50 albums as collaborator or solo artist. And there is no sign of slowing down, his latest release Under Stellar Stream released this week through Jagjaguwar. Youngs hyopnotic folk sits deep in your belly, his at times fragile voice, and deeply meditative playing draw you deeper into the silences so carefully left. This is music to slow time and drift toward vanishing point. Soon It Will Be Fire is from his 1998 release Sapphie.

 

Minor Careers – Spokane

Spokane create music that reflect the moments in between events. Each song exquisitely crafted, achingly subtle yet strangely brimming with emotion. Rick Alverson’s murmuring voice hovers in the at times barely there instrumentation and loving stretches of ambience. Nothing is rushed. Like a sparsely furnished room, Spokane provide the necessary space for you to enter into their soundscapes. A fine place to inhabit in those increasingly rare, quiet hours.

small words

Today I came home to the pleasure of the two latest copies of The Lilliput Review, one of the coolest little magazines you could ever set your hands on and if you need proof, check out this gem from an earlier issue, currently posted on Issa’s Untidy Hut (the blog of The Lilliput Review)

    

      Voyeur

that heavy breath
against smeared glass

the poet rubbing
windows

for the world to
peep through

          Melissa Cannon

 

The magazine features haiku, artwork and other short poems from around the world and has already helped ease me into the weekend groove, with its many wisdoms.

So here’s a selection of my own haiku… I hope they help lead you into your own weekend space.

 

                                                                        whistling
                                                                        in the bamboo grove
                                                                        August wind

 

                                             turning my back
                                             you can make love now
                                             pigeons

 

                                                                        sun in the west
                                                                        between us
                                                                        not a word

Breathe

calm the breath                the ocean will calm

breath gathers itself in a comma

a comma informs the current

weaves panic into water

so calm will curl the rising wave

 

red as dusk               settling

this sun drowned lonely in the chest

whose white sand will purple later

will wear the wound I wear               

the panting wave

 

breathe hard

breathe quickly

breath in me sings                my lungs

the ocean surface  in unblessed rage

scavenging lullabies

 

gullswings darken at tips

plunge in shadow                 the day

opening into a ripple 

gathering in panic this breath 

to rise from water

 

the scarlet ocean at dusk

furious before it calms

and cloaks soft  that breath

the indestructible work of breath

in my mouth                  as in yours

Cool Man, In A Golden Age

For film buffs and lovers of Beat Culture, this release of legendary American independent filmmaker, Alfred Leslie’s work is long overdue. I was first switched on to Leslie’s work, through the Kerouac narrated, Pull My Daisy, which features Gregory Corso, Allen Ginsberg & Peter Orlovsky. Pull My Daisy is a ramshackled retelling of an incident in the lives of Neal and Carolyn Cassady, and charts the weirdness that ensues when a Bishop is invited over for dinner, crashed by a bunch of bohemians. The film captures the heady Beat life and has the same improvised feel that much of the great literature from this time embraced.

If you haven’t seen it, here’s a few links to the making of the film (interviews with David Amram & Alfred Leslie) including excerpts from the original.

 

Pull My Daisy pt. 1

Pull My Daisy pt. 2

Pull My Daisy pt. 3

Alongside Pull My Daisy this release also features, Birth of a Nation, A Stranger Calls at Midnight and Leslie’s visionary collaboration with Frank O’Hara, The Last Clean Shirt. Olivier Brossard has written a stunning essay (published in Jacket) on The Last Clean Shirt that is well worth the read.

 

 

The final film included as part of the release is USA: Poetry – Frank O’Hara. USA Poetry was a 12-part series produced in 1965-66, showcasing the works of Allen Ginsberg, Gary Snyder, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Charles Olson, Robert Creeley, Philip Whalen, Ed Sanders and many others. You can view clips from Frank O’Hara’s segment of the release on his website.

And if that’s not quite enough to peak your interest, head on over to Alfred Leslie’s homepage where you can read his textual exploration of Cool Man in a Golden Age.

Painter, Filmmaker, Photographer, Writer… most definitely a Cool Man in any age.

Slow Breathing

Far out in the Pacific Ocean
a pod of whales head north, under a full moon.

Across the street, the neighbour’s house is full of insects.

And grouped in close formation
geckos take command of the windows
ready to advance.

Tonight, as the parties end
as the crowds turn out
the mosquitoes are at the skirts of the island
the hibiscus’ explode
my wife turns in the empire of her sleep
her breasts lunar
the shallow rise of her chest
slowly breathing.

In the morning, schools of mullet move offshore.

The glint of baitfish massing to spawn
flashes like rifle fire in the water.

For the love of libraries

When was the last time you set foot in your local library? If you have to stop and think, then maybe it’s time you went and checked it out. I am a proud, card-carrying member… always have been and for good reason.

Established in the mid-19th Century, public libraries were seen to be essential to the longevity of democracy. Libraries as purveyors of information, pursued the notion of establishing an educated and enlightened citizenry. And while this has not changed, libraries have become so much more than a repository for books and other printed matter. For me they are a vital civic space, providing the opportunity for anyone to be able to read the paper, check emails, conduct research, or engage in community programs. In a world of increasing social isolation, the library has become a community living room for people of all ages.

Fifty percent of Australians currently access the 1500 public libraries with more than 100 million people accessing these libraries annually (stats gathered in 2007-2008 by Matthew Allen).  And while 50% is satisfactory, this is a figure I am sure many would love to see increase. The revamp of how libraries look is something that I think will continue to grow this figure. Just check out some of these incredible library spaces…

Central Library, Vancouver

 

City Library of Stockholm

 

Royal Library, El Escorial, Spain

(images taken from the site Most Interesting Libraries of the World)

Who wouldn’t want to spend time in each of these spaces?

And while many of our local libraries are still in need of a face lift, the new(ish) Brisbane Square Library and State Library are stunning spaces. I for one, can’t wait for QLD Writers Centre to move into the State Library next year. I think the new location will completely reshape how they interact with the writing public.

So on this beautiful Sunday, if you are wondering what to do, join the growing number of enlightened citizens and head to your local library… you never know what might be happening!

Brisbane Square Library

 

State Library of QLD

More sounds from the New Folk

Well, morning has passed me by but as always the day has been soundtracked by some new folk sounds… Here’s a snapshot of what has been entering my ears of late. Plenty here to get those Saturday morning feet a stomping! Enjoy and don’t forget to drop your LitRock suggestions into my previous post… I plan to post some of your suggestions real soon.

 

Little Lion Man – Mumford and Sons

This a sweet slab of new British folk from four young men with names that were begging for them to come together and make music. Marcus Mumford, Country Winston, Ben Lovett, and Ted Dwane marry gutsy, old-time folk with their love of bluegrass and country. And on Little Lion Man, they capture the live fire that they are becoming renowned for. let’s hope they hit these shores soon… Their debut album Sigh No More is out now.

 

 

Soul of a Man – Rambling Jack Elliott

Rambling Jack Elliott is one of the final links to the old American folk tradition. As Johnny Cash once said, nobody has covered more ground and made more friends and sung more songs than Rambling Jack. And in the tradition of the folk troubadour, he has just released a new album of Depression Era blues songs to pay homage to a handful of the songs that have fed him over the years. This track, originally penned by Blind Willie Johnson, is a song that haunts me every time I hear it. The lyric, I’m going to ask the question, answer if you can/ If anybody here can tell me, what is the soul of a man?  cuts straight through me and Rambling Jack has the life-weary voice to deleiver it with conviction.

 

The Wrong Road – Steve Kilbey

Originally recorded for one of the tribute albums to the late great GW McLennan (although it sadly never made it on to the finished album), this is Kilbey at his stripped back best, capturing the elegance of McLennan’s lyric. This song is a major contender for the LitRock list that I was talking about recently too, with Grant superbly name-checking Dickens: 

Started out Oliver, ended up Fagin/ Don’t you worry, it’s my problem

It still hurts that there will be no new McLennan songs…

In Silence

A day when only images speak.

Hardly a word worth hearing except a swirl in the water and the hush of jellyfish dancing on the incoming tide. Belly up like blue bells.

Hardly a sibilant among the gulls or the black faced terns pickaxing the perfect blue for mullet.

Except for a stingray moving from the camouflage of sand.

Panic in a blink.

A Poet Is… what Bob Dylan has to say.

Dylan is one of the most quoted artists of our time, and rightfully so. Just check out these nuggets of wisdom if you need any convincing:

A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and gets to bed at night, and in between he does what he wants to do.

No one is free, even the birds are chained to the sky.

I accept chaos, I’m not sure whether it accepts me.

But there is one Dylan quote that has always niggled at me and that is, I think a poet is anyone who wouldn’t call themself a poet.

This niggles at me for many reasons… one, Dylan readily calls himself a poet, in fact has been quoted as saying he will die like one (although he also says he doesn’t like the word… prefers the term trapeze artist); the fact that the word poet is undeniably misunderstood in our society; and the fact that I struggled to come to terms with calling myself a poet for many years and am only now beginning to feel any sense of comfort with the term.

Personally, I struggled with the term because I value it… deeply. For the last decade the art of poetry has been the driving force in my life. I have high expectations of my work and only now feel that I am starting to produce the work of a poet.

So why is it that, the word poet is often uttered under one’s breath? Why has the title poet, become a thorny crown?

I would like to suggest that one of the main reasons is the lack of poetry in our national curriculum. I don’t want to harp on this, as I know I have said it before, but quality poetry is sadly missing in our schools today. I saw an example of the work that a visiting poet had done with students recently and it was in a word… uninspired. We are seriously missing the mark in schools and as a result, fewer and fewer people are being equipped with the skills to engage with poetry.

But this is just one of the reasons… I could also cite elitism as a significant reason as let’s face it, for too long prestige has been found by pleasing a small group of like minds, rather than reaching out to a wider audience.

Dylan has certainly redefined modern music through his lyrical brilliance. I just wonder what it will take (or who) to redefine poetry. 

Feel free to add your suggestions (or disagree with any of mine).  

 

Poetry Speaks

I came across this site over at Electric Alphabet today and it is well worth exploring. The site is called Poetry Speaks and as Kate says in her title, it may just be better than an iTunes for poetry. There is alot of poetry to explore already, including classic works from Rimbaud & Baudelaire, more contemporary works by Aimee Nezhukumatathil, Derrick Brown and the founder of Slam, Marc Kelly Smith, who performed at QLD Poetry Festival in 2006.  And just as importantly, you can also get involved in the Poetry Speaks community by registering a free account and uploading your work. You can also sell your work via the Poetry Speaks site. Lots of potential here… I have already been over and had a play, uploading The Stillest Hour and Brisbane Love Poems. That said, I am off to spend some more time in the Poetry Speaks playground…