sinister-digest Wednesday, October 13 1999 Volume 03 : Number 341
In your latest Sinister digest:
Sinister: Help me make loads of money ["Keith Watson" <k.watson@cableinet] Re: Sinister: The gas man and the inflatable cod ["Vince Russell" <bas@vi] Sinister: world keep on turnin'... ["Matthew Dowgert" <MFDOWGERT@holycros] Sinister: today's special [Ted Whalen <tew@introvert.net>] Sinister: My bip bopping days ain't over... [=?iso-8859-1?q?Gabriela=20Sa] Sinister: makes no difference who you are... ["Helen" <pixiemeat2@hotmail] Sinister: Poesia eres tu [Arantxa Sanz <pcxas@unix.ccc.nottingham.ac.uk>] Sinister: I'M DEAD ART ["GEORGE DICKIE" <sad_fluffy_ghd@hotmail.com>] Sinister: I shot the sheriff... but 'e was a stealin' me apples! ["Robi] Sinister: spicy chicken curry? ["Tim" <tjl@dmu.ac.uk>] Sinister: Re: hey all! ["Michael Barrett" <Michael.Barrett@adv.sonybpe.co] Sinister: Is poetry P!A!P!? [Nick.Dastoor@guardian.co.uk]
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Date: Tue, 12 Oct 1999 20:28:02 +0100 From: "Keith Watson" <k.watson@cableinet.co.uk> Subject: Sinister: Help me make loads of money
Hello all you people - got a quick message for you chaps.
We're running a club in Glasgow (Glasgow's first REAL MUSIC night). It's called "In Tune" and it will feature the DJ-ing "talents" of myself, Claire Timmins, Mick and Alasdair Cooke (not Alasdair from the list, but Mick (48) Cooke's Brother).
It's at the 13th note Cafe on King Street in Glasgow, famously thought to be owned by Bis - who rip the "kids" off by selling fanzines allegedly, at 9:00 till 12:00 this Friday. Inspired by Bis's alleged activity, we plan to fleece everyone who enters by the sum of 1 pound sterling, which we'll use to get a taxi back home again after the club, leaving all the poor kids to freeze to death in the Glasgow night.
We're gonna be playing any sort of music really, just anything that's good, and if it goes down well, we'll do another night. It's supposed to just be like a great big party.
Anyone's welcome to come along and pay a pound, please do.
Anyhow, enough of that rampant capitalism, sorry I haven't posted to the list for bloody ages, things used to be really relaxed in attitude at work, but they're not now I'm afraid to say and I can't really post from work.
Nice to see Sarah mentioning monkeys whom I still believe are the new rock and roll - to back this up, this months Viz (which is a comic, and as we all well know, comedy is the old new rock and roll) contains an advert for Monkey Fags, which contains 0.01% Nicotine, and 3.6% Banana! - rock and roll.
Peter, lovely to hear your Barry Sheene exploits. I once met Fish - he was funny, he put this really fake broad Scottish accent on so as to appear harder than he actually is. Actually, that reminds me, may have said this one before but, my old flatmate met Fish on Victoria Street in Edinburgh once, he said "Oh, it's Fish", and Fish went "Fuck off". I once met Chancer from City Lights in the pub too, I went "Hey - it's Gerard Kelly, you're
funny man, from the telly" and he went "No, it's Andy Gray".
Cheers, Keith.
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Date: Tue, 12 Oct 1999 21:52:14 +0100 From: "Vince Russell" <bas@vincer.dircon.co.uk> Subject: Re: Sinister: The gas man and the inflatable cod
Well hello everyone,
The exploits of Steve will live on, I have evidence that he still lives, great news huh? To continue the saga, Steve was last seen in a club in Fulham, having a really great time I have to add, I woke the next day with no sign of my piscean friend anywhere, so I presumed him dead, I have been in mourning ever since. And then came a phone call, late last night, now I know what your going to say and I won't worry because I've translated Steve's transcript in English,
Steve : Hi is Vince there? Vince : Speaking S : Hi Vince, it's Steve! V : Steve? Is this some sort of joke? S : No, it's me Steve the Fish V : I thought you'd...you know...passed on S : No no, when you left I was getting passionate with a girl called Susie from Worcester V : What? S : She was really nice...and...well...we've decided to get married and tour the world V : WHAT!!!! S : I'm sorry if this is a bit of a shock to you, but... V : Bloody right it's a shock, you're a fish! S : Racist bastard! V : What? How am I racist? S : Well, you said I couldn't travel the world because i'm a fish! V : An inflatable fish I might add S : Look, I called to see if you were all right with this but I can see i'm wasting my... V : Steve, Steve, look, i'm sorry, i'm just really surprised, and i'll like...you know...miss you S : I'll be back, and don't worry i'll write to you V : When do you leave? S : Tonight V : Take care Steve, say Hi to Susie for me S : Bye Vince. V : <sob> Bye Steve <sob> <sob>
So Steve has gone, but has not died, to all those on the list who live outside the UK, if you see Steve say Hi from me, he's a good guy, and according to Steve's brother, Jonathan, Susie's a great girl also.
And me? i'll be fine, I have my eye on a very nice small plastic hedgehog called Andrea.
Bye for now,
Vince.
- ----- Original Message ----- From: Martin Robinson <martin@send.demon.co.uk> To: <sinister@Majordomo.net> Sent: Friday, October 08, 1999 12:57 PM Subject: Sinister: The gas man and the inflatable cod
Dear all,
I'm afraid I bring bad news to all those admirers and followers of Steve the inflatable fish. He is missing presumed dead after having several drinks and then being passed round the dancefloor, a bit like Owen Meany in Sunday school, of a small club in trendy Fulham. Rumours of an inflatable Crimewatch special, as of yet, are unfounded. The Wake is presently being delayed in case his deflated remains are found. The saddest part of it all is that I never got the chance to tell him that I loved him really.
Anyway, at the absence of anything constructive to say and not wishing to extend the heated Richard Stilgoe debate to the highlights of the career of the amusingly spectacled Cristopher Biggins I shall just continue pointlessly and say: I think Mr Casarotto's spiel on Mr Ken Kesey was more than a bit harsh
What a grade A cunt that Ken Kesey must be! And Pete's letter just made me spit bile - his account of Kesey's experiments is all the evidence I need for the introduction of compulsory lobotomies for anyone who thinks any thoughts they have while tripping are worth foisting on anyone else. Very big and clever you sad old men.
Wasn't Kesey was paid by the American government to take LSD? As they had no idea what effect it had. He then, being of an open mind, began experimenting with it and passing it on to all his mates. LSD had no history at this point, so they weren't to know that it would be responsible for a load of hippies walking round going "Wow man!". So in conclusion everything is the fault of the American government, quelle surprise, and it is probably they who are the "grade A cunt"'s.
Aren't gassy men a pain? The bloke came to replace the pump on my central heating yesterday and then in the evening I get water coming through the kitchen. Apparently he damaged the gas cylinder making it leak, so they drained that and now have to replace to it. Consequently I have no hot water and the only thing heated in my abode was the conversation I had with the gas board to get it fixed quickly. What a bunch of "grade A cunt"'s they are (I can use this nasty word all the time now and just say I'm quoting that foul mouthed fouler Casarotto). Anyway can I start a new list of recommended domestic heating service providers? Go electric kids you won't regret it.
Time to conclude this tedium as there's a pint with my name on it.
Te ra,
Martin
ear confection recordings (http://www.send.demon.co.uk)
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Date: Tue, 12 Oct 1999 19:16:03 -0400 From: "Matthew Dowgert" <MFDOWGERT@holycross.edu> Subject: Sinister: world keep on turnin'...
i'm in a computer lab at school, writing a paper and listening to stevie = wonder, innervisions cd and damn if it's not fucking awesome. stevie = rocks, he plays all the instruments on a bunch of the songs. and he's = blind. damn. i mean, i knew he was blind, and i knew he was cool, but = all i heard before was superstition, an awesome song, but i thought that = it might just be his best and the rest might not be too great. but heck, = he proved me an ignorant fool, because this whole cd is fantabulous.
just as 3...6..9 seconds of light is fantabulous.
just as my mom's apple pie is fantabulous.
just as a new pair of socks is fantabulous.
just as the end of this e is fantabulous.
matthew francis dowgert
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Date: Tue, 12 Oct 1999 21:18:29 -0500 From: Ted Whalen <tew@introvert.net> Subject: Sinister: today's special
This message is by way of introduction. I think perhaps a summary of the events of this weekend will serve as a primer to my life and the state that I'm in.
Saturday, as I was on my way to a party thrown by people I don't especially like, I stopped at the local bar for a bite and a pint. It seems like everyone at the bar conspired to make me staggeringly drunk. I stumbled down to the party, but was forced to make an over-hasty exit due to alcohol-induced illness. Sadly, (and here is the B&S content) I had to leave before I could sway in the style of the truly rhythmless to 'We Rule the School.' It was my only musical request at a party where the theme was 'High School Homecoming'. I was not elected king. I lost my cranberry sweater vest on the way home.
Sunday I spent mainly in bed, but ventured out in the late afternoon to visit Ikea with my roommate. We bought a rug, and once at home, I swept and washed the floors in celebration of its arrival. I then commuted via train into work. I worked so late that the trains had stopped running when I was ready to leave. I spent the night in bed with my ex-girlfriend, fighting platonically over the covers.
Surmise what you will about my life, but feel free to email me your inferences. My name is Ted and I live in Chicago.
tew - -- And it says "I burn." Ted Whalen - tew@introvert.net
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Date: Tue, 12 Oct 1999 20:45:03 -0700 (PDT) From: =?iso-8859-1?q?Gabriela=20Sampaio?= <shoegazer1999@yahoo.com> Subject: Sinister: My bip bopping days ain't over...
Dear listees...
It's been so long since I posted last that I am not sure how to do it again....hehe
I just wanted to share a moment of happiness with you... I played as a DJ last Sunday and I included "she's losing it" and gentle waves' "weathershow" in my playlist and I was delighted to see everybody on the dancefloor!!
Isn't it great?
XXX
gabi
=====
__________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Bid and sell for free at http://auctions.yahoo.com
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Date: Wed, 13 Oct 1999 07:26:03 GMT From: "Helen" <pixiemeat2@hotmail.com> Subject: Sinister: makes no difference who you are...
I saw Mercury Rev on the tele (Oz TV... because I live with the wizard) the other night and they did (quite a fine) cover of 'when you wish upon a star'. And a Dylan cover as well, He was a friend (of mine?). Interesting. Does covering a Disney song make you less cool? Because I'm sure it has been done many times before. (or even covering Bob Dylan, (although almost every band has done that), to those Dylan haters out
although I like the man myself).
(I think I am the winner of how many brackets you can use in a paragraph)
Maybe it makes you more cool, like a 'I don't give a stuff about coolness' cool. Soon we'll have B&S covering the theme from Pocahontas and the Beta band doing a 6 minute experimental piece of Beauty and the Beast. But is there a ''I don't give a stuff about coolness' cool' cool. And if so where does it stop? Is there a limit to what is anti-cool and therefore 'hip', as opposed to things that are so not hip that there is no way that they can become cool.
Don't worry I don't understand that sentence very much either.
Personally I really don't give a stuff, because: 1) coolness, non-coolness it's all relative 2) I quite liked Pinocchio anyway 3) and lastly because I'm taking the piss out of those people and establishments who like to draw lines in the fickle world of entertainment, (I mean by saying this band is cool, but that band isn't, they make it such a thin line when really there isn't one at all. Because as soon as you draw a line in the sands of entertainment, then a wave of popular opinion comes in and washes it away and you have to start again.... now you see why I never did English because my metaphors are crap. Ha.)
but what I can tell you for certain is that I spend way too much time in transit every day and have nothing to do except wonder and laugh at stupid shit like this.
Helen
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Date: Wed, 13 Oct 1999 10:49:19 +0100 (BST) From: Arantxa Sanz <pcxas@unix.ccc.nottingham.ac.uk> Subject: Sinister: Poesia eres tu
Press articles and reviews based on celebrities is going too far.One cannot open a so-called serious paper without finding Steve Trousse and Tara'shenanigans in their pages, everyday.And in the end I don't know if he was stripping in front of pubescent princes or she was slagged off because of her lyrical taste.Media just confuse my waif-like mind.
All I could really 'absorb' from poetry and lyrics later scandal, it was that Deborah Whoever,feature writer of the year,fancied Andrew Motion because of his posh navy blue coat.Fair enough.After my pleasant reading of some verses in my mother tongue sent by lovely Giita ( I want to go to Iceland more than ever,after my housemate's holidays ...!!!),might I add humbly my two pences to the discussion???Language makes a radical difference.Try to translate anything being true poetry (even something painted by furious demonstrators on a wall)and it would get irreversebly damaged somehow.
And sorry for being so conventional,but I consider 'angels' second position and even 'Imagine' first position slightly embarrasing,being the most embarrasing of it all the somehow official opinion of 'Bohemian Rapsody' should have made it much better!
70's Who,that classical of this list: I ignore if Mr Miller would know about Houston Party Records, the recently founded label managed by Jaume from Parkinson DC in Barna, and so baptised after the orgiastic bash organised by the WHo during some American tour or so.According to the manager, that party simbolised all the rock mythology.Very deep.Especially for a power pop label owned by Posies' best chums.
Once again, anyone up for Airport Girl and Butterflies of Love tomorrow night in NOttingham? Mail me privately.
xxxx
Arantxa
PS I had never written before in any message 'mail me privately'.It sounds so naughty.
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Date: Wed, 13 Oct 1999 03:55:18 PDT From: "GEORGE DICKIE" <sad_fluffy_ghd@hotmail.com> Subject: Sinister: I'M DEAD ART
WHEN YOU CAN'T SEE THE POINT TO ANYTHING
YOU HAVE NO POINT TO MAKE
G
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Date: Wed, 13 Oct 1999 12:01:00 +0100 From: "Robin Stout" <Ppyrrjs@nottingham.ac.uk> Subject: Sinister: I shot the sheriff... but 'e was a stealin' me apples!
Helen wrote:
I saw Mercury Rev on the tele (Oz TV... because I live with the wizard)
Hi All, It's been a while since I posted and sadly it will probably be a while until I post again. In a cruel twist of fate the college where I reside for most of my time has now been furnished with the luxury of the internet. 'Great!' some of you may be thinking, Neil won't be moaning about his phone bills any longer as he can use the net at taxpayers expense. Well the prospect of A-Levels next June makes this impossible, but my slightly less consientious friends having found the URL are proceeding to mock the whole sinister community which is becoming incresingly demoralising and a special topic of conversation seems to have been my posts which of course they can all access. They're all suspicious of me going to 'picnics' as and having read the posts they are convinced, partially because of the name I presume (will they ever understand!!!), that sinister is a cult and it does become rather irritating trying to educate the masses. I used to try and now have just given up. Anyway it seems I must now write out of compulsion, not that this is not a pleasurable way to spend an evening. However having being stuck on the last train last night after selling T-Shirts for the fabulous Billy Mahonie at the garage I nearly fell asleep in a court room today and still have many ways which I must fill this evening, the completion of this post obviously being the highlight of these. Some of you may have been wondering the reasoning the title; in my doleful employment which spoils my Saturdays when bored I often say to our staff (allegedly my colleagues) 'Say something strikingly, poignant, poetic or profound' and they give me strange looks as if I have finally lost all grasp of reality, which by that time I probably have. However tonight it seems that having been passed the poetry parrot by the lovely Giita (can I come and stay in Iceland in exchange for compliments, lol ?) it would appear that it is my task to post something falling into the aforementioned criteria. Recently I have been devoting my study to the difficulty in balancing conflicting interests with regards to civil liberties in the UK. My selection of poetry therefore in some deranged way is linked to this aim; i.e. the fact that one selection lacks originality is balanced by my decision to contribute something, admittedly not a very good something, that I penned myself sometime ago. The Inevitable While I was fearing it, it came. But it came with less of a fear, Because that fearing it so long Had almost made it dear. There is a fitting a dismay, A fitting a despair 'Tis harder knowing it is due, Than knowing it is here. The trying on the upmost, The morning it is new, Is terribler than wearing it A whole existence through Emily Dickinson My own written a while ago when I was obsessed with sonnets: How can a man express his love for thee? When thou art far from where I must reside. To write with a pen and paper means a fee; And behind words one can so easily hide The feelings that need to be flowing free. And as time passes tears will be cried, As whilst waiting, one will think of thee. But one can one do little for a while, But sit alone and watch the days fly on by. Hoping that the next will bring a smile Rather than yet another lonely sad sigh. For that day alone I would walk many miles. But while thou is such a distance away I must temper each and every passing day. In this post I've probably contradicted all the principles of the poetry parrot and mine didn't have a charming story to proceed it (was this obligatory?), but still I hope that having made an offering I can now hereby pass the poetry parrot on to....................(struggles from yawning)......Alex Tobin. Anyway goodbye for possibly as long as it takes for me to be emancipated from college or for my friends to find better things to do with their times Neil (Kadj) -----Original Message----- From: sinister-digest <owner-sinister-digest@Majordomo.net> To: sinister-digest@Majordomo.net <sinister-digest@Majordomo.net> Date: 13 October 1999 14:36 Subject: sinister-digest V3 #341 the there, the
other night and they did (quite a fine) cover of 'when you wish upon a star'. And a Dylan cover as well, He was a friend (of mine?). Interesting. Does covering a Disney song make you less cool?
I once travelled to Boston, England in a little car, with my American friend, listening to his greatest hits tape. He was from California, USA, and lived out of a rucksack, and as such had only brought this one tape with him. It was a mixture of Bruce Springsteen and Disney Classics, and he sang along to it all the way. Um, this is just an anecdote really, I've just realised it doesn't actually have a point. On the way we passed a town called Elton and we wished that John had come cos it would have made a funny photo. I got some tickets for Nalda Said in Nottingham yesterday and the girl behind the counter said something to the effect that we didn't really need them because no-one was going. She was a moody tart, though. I think she'd missed her vocation in the fish and chip shop. Have I ever said how I used to think it was my vocation to be a vicar? Does anyone else think that people are really made to do certain jobs and mostly choose the wrong ones? I do. It's like hands and gloves. I bought some gloves and a hat from an honest market trader last week, after he convinced me that they were the finest quality, and selling like hot cakes, guv'nor. The hat was quite nice, so I bought them. When I got home I found I had been flogged two left-handed gloves! Honest market trader, my arse! So now I don't like the hat so much either because it brings back ugly memories of the gloves.
Steve wrote:
anyone lucky enough to be in toronto today got themselves one honey of a fall day, that is for sure. boy was it nice.
Gee, Steve, that's the most American sentence I've ever seen.
Sarah-san wa kawaii desu. Whatever this means, I think it's probably appropriate.
Oi! Gimme back me apples!
Robin xxx
PS: This email might be full of strange codes at the beginning and the end. If it is, it's not my fault. We've been given a new email programme and I DON'T UNDERSTAND IT.
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Date: Wed, 13 Oct 1999 11:03:56 +0100 From: "Tim" <tjl@dmu.ac.uk> Subject: Sinister: spicy chicken curry?
Well this'll be only the second or third time I've posted, and I'm not really sure why I'm posting now, but as I'm not at work and I've had the time to read all the emails for once, I thought I'd just waffle for a bit.
No, it is my third time I've posted I'm sure. The second time was to see if anyone had recorded a live performance by Teenage Fanclub on the evening session, and some delightful person had done. Nice girl. Can't remember her name though. Oops.
B and S content: Hmm.....not sure on this one, but I was thinking only yesterday that I don't really know many people who like Belle and Sebastien
apart from people on the internet. Well, maybe not quite true....a couple of people at work do, but these are odd scary people who live in like underground tunnels.
But I did manage to convert my girlfriend to them. Well, to If You're Feeling Sinister and Tigermilk anyway, as TBWTAS didn't go down too well. It was a bit of a struggle mind, as I had to make her leave her Gabrielle and Whitney Houston cd's alone for a bit. I'm not happy now though, as she's nicked Grand Prix and HMS Fable off me, and doesn't want to give them back, so I have to listen to them round her house. She did say I could take the Marion cd back though. An acquired taste no doubt. But she did buy me The La's album, and I have her cuddly gorilla. All is not lost.
Lucksmiths albums: I now have some, and they are very good. Don't think anything else needs to be said about these.
Can anyone help me with trying to find some stuff by Out Of My Hair? I've only heard two singles (Get Back In The Groove Again and Mr Jones) and quite liked them, but can't find anything by them anywhere.
I still like Local Boy In The Photograph by The Stereophonics.
Inbetween the munching on pot noodles and such like on a break, a few of us were struggling to work out who was cooler. On the on hand there was The Fonz...Aaiiiieeee, and then there was Hannibal from the A Team taking the cigar out of his mouth and saying 'I love it when a plan comes together'.
Due to this I have been struggling to sleep over the last few days. Either that or I haven't really gone to bed.
Anyway
Tim
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Date: Wed, 13 Oct 1999 13:58:37 +0100 From: "Michael Barrett" <Michael.Barrett@adv.sonybpe.com> Subject: Sinister: Re: hey all!
I think this was meant for all of us... - ----- Original Message ----- From: Shelly P <spetworth@hotmail.com> To: <Michael.Barrett@adv.sonybpe.com> Sent: Wednesday, October 13, 1999 1:30 PM Subject: hey all!
just wanted to pass on a good belle and sebastian link...
it's for a rare mp3. does anyone know when this was recorded?
http://www.usounds.com/daily.htm
enjoy!
shelly p
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Date: Wed, 13 Oct 1999 14:21:13 +0100 From: Nick.Dastoor@guardian.co.uk Subject: Sinister: Is poetry P!A!P!?
Keith wrote some stuff about a great big party at the 13th Note this Fr= iday for people who like REAL MUSIC. Sounds like the new Knebworth. I can't wa= it! I'm going to Glasgow for a conference this weekend you see, and was wonderi= ng what to do with myself. Now I know.
Helen was wondering about what kind of cool it was to cover a Disney so= ng. Well, I don't think it's cool of the 'I don't give a stuff about coolne= ss' variety. Maybe I think too much about these things, but I think if the= re was a time for 'serious artists' covering Disney songs being cool, it was sev= eral years ago. There was a compilation called 'Stay Awake' that came out i= n about 1989, which is a bit patchy but has some real gems and manages to hang = together pretty well as a whole. Sinead O Connor heavy breathes her way through= 'Someday My Prince Will Come', Tom Waits turns 'Heigh Ho' into an portentous pro= test song, and Ringo Starr rounds things off in a kind of White Album 'Goodn= ight' way with 'When You Wish Upon A Star'. It's also got Natalie Merchant, the Replacements and Los Lobos on it. And lots of others - I must dig it o= ut when I get home. *Anyway* the point is, it might not have reached covering Ab= ba proportions, but I don't think covering Disney songs for 'ooh - aren't = we unconcerned about what's cool' kudos (props?) really cuts it. Too obvi= ous. Mind you, covering Abba might be cool in a new 'look, surely we've got = over the kitch thing by now - this is just a brilliant song and we want to sing = it' way.
In other new, for those who are confused by all this talk of M. Petits = Pantalons in the papers, here's the story. There's been a fair bit of blathering= in the media of late because the Poetry Society's National Poetry Day had a po= ll of 'the nation's favourite pop lyric' as one of its strands. 'Imagine' w= on, prompting Peter Hitchens to point out that people can't really have lis= tened to the words properly because the utopia it describes sounds to him like '= bloody Soviet Russia'. Anyway, in his capacity as hip-to-the-kids spokesperso= n at the Poetry Society, Stevie has been wheeled out to address the public on a = few occasions. For example, in last Thursday's Independent, he mewled as f= ollows:
07 Oct 1999 Right of Reply: The co-editor of 'The Message: crossing = the tracks between poetry and pop' replies to David Liste= r's criticisms of comparisons between pop lyrics and poet= ry: The Independent
By STEPHEN TROUSSE DAVID LISTER recently rose above the 'postmodern jumble' of debate arou= nd this year's National Poetry Day, and re-asserted critical standards wit= h the suggestion: 'Steady on, chaps, some of those Oasis lyrics are a bit rop= ey, aren't they?' Maybe it's the function of the columnist to reduce a complex set of ide= as to a quick gag and a bit of moral posturing. But I can't remember anyone e= ver suggesting that, say, the Eiffel 65 single should be put on the English=
A-level syllabus alongside Carol Ann Duffy. In fact, part of the point = of choosing the theme of this year's National Poetry Day was to open up a debate that went beyond the tired old face-off between Dylan and Keats = or Percy and Pete Shelley. If the notion of the lyric has historical ambig= uity, what do the two forms have to learn from each other today? Should we dismiss song lyrics as juvenile doggerel? I have been co-edit= ing a Poetry Society publication mulling over the whole relationship between poetry and pop, and the issues are far richer than I had imagined. Lister suggests that poets are deluding themselves by claiming pop star= s as brothers and sisters. But for those of us who are curious about the lif= e of language and the pulse of culture, it seems perfectly sensible to consi= der the new Magnetic Fields CD in the context of New York School poetry. Fo= r Lister, who seems to have given up on pop music around 1972, this may s= eem to be a postmodern jumble. But maybe the real issue here is who gets to=
police the borders between high and low culture. Marc Bolan once said that 'the pop song should be a spell'. A lot of th= e time it doesn't even give us cheap magic. But if there's one thing this National Poetry Day has shown, it's that = the form still has the capacity to infuriate and delight and start argument= s. IND Comment 2
The Independent Copyright (C) Newspaper Publishing Plc, 1988-1997
See how casually the prankster manages to slip a gratuitous reference t= o the Magnetic Fields into a national newspaper! Personally, I think it's hi= gh time we got around to considering Belle & Sebastian in the context of Glasgo= w School poetry. Or Playgroup poetry. Sadly, Stevie then got a bit a kicking f= rom Charlotte Raven in her weekly column in Tuesday's Guardian. I think s= he pictures him as a bit of a precious poetry ponce with a perpetual sniff= le. Which he isn't, of course.
'How Dylan hoaxed the poets' On pop and the profound Charlotte Raven Tuesday October 12, 1999 A great many girls must have voted in last weekend's BBC poll to find t= he nation's favourite song lyric. I was surprised by the results, announce= d on Saturday, because women tend to think that the kind of music they like = is, by definition, crap and are therefore inclined to leave the qualitative as= sessments to the "people who know better" - ie men. This self-denying ordinance has given men the freedom to define the cla= ssic song. List after tedious list is produced without reference to pop's pr= imary consumers - a fact which might go some way to explaining why profundity= rather than pleasure is the sine qua non of a classic, and why a song that pro= mpts website discussions about its meaning is likely to win hands down over = something that wears its significance more lightly. There are numerous websites devoted to Bohemian Rhapsody. Almost 25 yea= rs after the song's release, people are swapping theses on the origins of "scara= mouche" and correcting each other's spelling of "bismillah". Having visited a f= ew of these, I am now even prouder than ever of the girls who so unblushingly=
suggested that Robbie Williams' Angels is the best song ever written. T= heir uncharacteristic faith in their own convictions lent a slightly surreal= quality to the nation's favorite lyric debate. Unprepared as they must have bee= n for Angels to come in second - ahead of Bohemian Rhapsody, ahead of Yesterd= ay, I am the Walrus and every other Beatles song - the BBC seemed somewhat embar= rassed. Lavishing praise on Imagine, which it considered a "deserving winner", = it sounded a note of caution over the rest of the list. Anxious to reassur= e us that this didn't mean that Angels was good, it emphasised the list's democra= cy and praised the British public's "enormously wide tastes in music". Presumably, this wouldn't have been necessary if Angels had come in 44t= h and Queen had performed more respectably. For all its many faults, Bohemian= Rhapsody is still allowed the dignity of being thought of as a proper song. At l= east it has some ambition, runs the argument. At least it goes the distance. An= d at least it addresses big themes such as life, death, birth, death, life a= nd fandangos. Angels has nothing to say about fandangos and must therefore= be dismissed as disposable. It wouldn't be considered for inclusion in the= Poetry Society's canon of "poetic" (for which read good) pop lyrics. Like the = BBC the society was keen to distinguish its elevation of a certain kind of pop = song from the impulse which gave Williams his trophy. Having said from the outset that it wanted to move the debate "beyond t= he tired old face-off between Dylan and Keats" it was then faced with the proble= m of finding someone else it approved of. Michael Stipe was mentioned, but not very loudly. The poetry community,= if such a thing exists, generally seemed more concerned with defending itself a= gainst imagined accusations of dumbing down. "I can't remember anyone suggesti= ng that, say, the Eiffel 65 single should be put on the A-level syllabus alongsi= de Carol Ann Duffy," wrote Stephen Trousse, concerned to firm-up the boundaries = he had only so recently blurred. Any remaining confusion was cleared up by And= rew Motion who declared that most pop lyrics are "repetitive and banal" and= only worth discussing en route to the more interesting question of what exac= tly makes Bob Dylan an "exception to this general rule". So Keats versus Dylan it= was then. As the muse-a-thon got underway, it quickly became clear - as it always= does - that this was no high-low debate. Motion hates popular culture and Dyla= n is only accepted because, in spite of his popularity, he has dealt with enough = fandangos to be thought of as a serious artist. That is to say that the least app= ealing bits of his oeuvre are replete with cod enigmas, rich in impenetrable i= mages and stuffed to overflowing with big themes. When you are 15, all that crap = about four-legged forest clouds and curfew gulls sounds deep. Dylan's great s= kill - in his worst work - is to manage to imply profundity while placing the onu= s on his audience to ride with it, or admit their stupidity. It never occurred t= o me until recently that lines I knew off by heart were elaborate, well-wrou= ght hoaxes. It's easy to see why Dylan is Motion's hero. In a piece he wrote some t= ime ago, he described how the death of his mother had caused him to look to poet= ry as a way to address a number of "unanswerable questions". These were: What i= s self? How is it made? Is the weight of love as great as the fact of death? Ad= mitting that he didn't know (all) the answers (yet) Motion resolved, at that mo= ment, to approach them by "indirection". The resulting "poetics" could therefore= claim the kudos of confronting big issues head on, while always deferring del= ivery of the point. This certainly made life much easier since Motion, like Dyla= n, has been able to divert attention away from his interpretive ineptitude by = focusing on the sunlight and the hedgerows rather than the matter in hand. In hi= s TUC poem, he describes a walk he took along the Thames. We hear about the b= reeze, the dust, the clouds, the water, the buttery sun and all manner of othe= r natural wonders. Motion doubtless wants us to assume that these images are preg= nant with significance, relating to the theme of liberty mentioned en passant tow= ards the end. I will probably be accused of literalmindedness, but I couldn't ma= ke the connection. Motion's buttery sun, like Dylan's grey flannel dwarf, is a= n image with nothing behind it. Both evoke depth yet neither can fulfill its pr= omises. No wonder he doesn't like pop music. In spite of various brushes with e= veryday subject matter (he recently wrote a poem about a passport queue) Motion= is on the side of fandangos. The straightforwardness of proper pop music must= sound to him, rather facile. All that "love me do" and "let me be" and "be with = me" - all those little feelings expressed with such economy. "I met him on a Mond= ay and my heart stood still" - a phrase which, like the best pop lyrics, surrende= rs its meaning without the aid of a dictionary, a degree or an online discussi= on. This modesty - the fact that it has no need for indirection - has always mad= e the genre look slight. Few would claim that Depeche Mode's delightful "I ju= st can't get enough" - currently revived on the Gap ads, is in any sense a moder= n classic. "When I'm with you baby, I go out of my head" is not what you = might call poetic. But if poetry means describing the boat masts when one of your friends = is dying (as Motion does in his poem about Hughes) or Dylan's masked ball of cha= racters, or a thousand permutations of bismillah - I'd rather take the low road = and leave the scenic route to them.
=A9 Guardian Newspapers Limited 1999
I hope this has been of interest. Bye now.
Nick xxx =
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End of sinister-digest V3 #341 ******************************
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