The Kevin Connolly Revolver playlist
Last week, I had the pleasure of hearing Canadian Kevin Connolly read his poetry. At the reading, Kevin told how the table of contents for Revolver, his latest book, consisted of song titles and so didn't match the poems included in the book. Here's the table of contents in full with links to relevant YouTube videos (I couldn't find one for Lars Horris). Kevin mentioned that this wasn't all merely a jape and that there are subtle links between the songs and the poems. It's such a great idea and I felt a sort of stab of recognition in this practice as I've even made up compilation CDs for some of my own poems because like others I know I get great pleasure from making compilations and compiling song list. To Kevin's credit, it's a bloody good song list. I haven't delved much into Revolver yet because I'm reviewing and need to get some reading out of the way. Oh, yea, I'm off to the Ballroom Café in a couple of hours to hear Janis Freegard. Poetry readings have just started there and I'm looking forward to the new venue. I'm going to read a new poem 'Revenant.' I've heard Janis read the odd one or two poems before but you get so much better a sense of the work when you hear a more sustained set.
The Kevin Connolly Revolver playlist
I.Free range. The FallCruel to be kind. Nick LoweBriliant disguise. Bruce SpringsteenLet's Go. The CarsGentlemen take Polaroids. JapanMultitude of casualties. The Hold SteadyTo hell with good intentions. McluskyInsectivorous. The ConstantinesDoubts even here. New OrderII.Cure for pain. MorphineNegative creep. NirvanaTrain in vain. The ClashEach and every one. Everything but the girl
North American scum. LCD Soundsystem
Dumb it down. Lupe FiascoThank you for sending me an angel. Talking HeadsLove my way. Psychedelic Furs So. central rain. REMIII.Here's where the story ends. The SundaysIt's my life. No Doubt (coz this is the better version!)How soon is now? The SmithsHeart of glass. BlondieWatching the detectives. Elvis CostelloOur lips are sealed. Fun Boy ThreeCities in dust. Siouxise and the BansheesMirror in the bathroom. The Beat.The carpet crawlers. GenesisIVCause=Time. Broken Social SceneTattooed love boys. The PretendersFake Empire. The NationalLips like sugar. Echo and the BunnymenGold sounds. So It Goes.Locked in the trunk of a car. The Tragicaly HipThis Monkey's gone to heaven. The PixiesLove song. Simple MindsWonderwall. OasisVIn the evening. Led ZeppelinSleepwalk. UltravoxConstant in opal. The churchJust like honey. The Jesus and Mary ChainFade into you. Mazzy StarEven the losers. Tom Petty and the HeartbreakersCeremony. New OrderCaterpillar. The Cure.Voices carry. Till Tuesday
Once upon a ukelele
Ihab Hassan in The Georgia Review on the necessary pact between reader and writer:
"Once upon a time": yes, yes. This "yes" knows a certain truth, the truth of imaginative trust. This "yes" is also what a deep reading of literature demands . . ."
Hassan's essay is called 'The way we have become: A surfeit of Seeming.'
Am I alone in feeling a change in the way we have become, the way we live, online? Obviously not.
I began my online life BW (Before Web) with a dial-up account at Actrix. Back in those days Telecom wasn't even an ISP.
A cartoon caption that captures the spirit from those days: "on the internet no-one knows you're a dog."
Life online was masquerade: we all had 'handles'; we all played with online identities as we sat Lambda Moo's spa pools.
I was, for a while, Valerian.
Now we are only ever our IRL selves and we take full responsibility for our online acts, for what we say, for what we read, for whose profiles and pictures we choose to view. On the internet, everyone knows what you say and read. On the internet everyone wants your status update: it's all about you, you, you. And me, me, me.
On a lighter note, I have taken up the ukelele. (Yes, I've read The Listener article and I know it's a craze and I guess I'm part of it--first glam, punk rock, then high falutin' theory, then cyberpunk, and now the ukulele. Hop on that bandwagon, kid. Put your zimmer frame down and I'll give you a hand-up.
What happened was that I was invited to join an informal ukulele group by a colleague. But isn't that always the way with cults?
After a couple of sessions I can now play C, G7, F and, at a pinch, G. That's because my ukulele on loan has little coloured stickers near the top frets. So there's no need just yet to fret about the frets, pet.
Yea, I can play a couple of chords.
The ukulele's great charm lies in its silliness. I'm reminded of one of the aspects of my job that I love--I think it's typical of teachers to stay behind after school to strum some silly songs on ukuleles. Compared to academics, teachers don't take themselves too seriously.
