Sunday, April 23, 2006
St George... fucked-up printers... heroin...
A couple more shots from last night... The Akrons and the Good Anna...
Tired this morning. Only a few hours sleep – but once I'm awake my damn brain slides into operation and I have to get up. A lot to do – I was originally planning on meeting my friend Frank for a toot or two this afternoon and see what grim festivities have been invented down the local to celebrate St George Day. But the novel has to be printed to get it in the post tomorrow – the printer is doing strange things but the ink smears seem to have stopped now – bugger, spoke too soon... And clothes need to be washed in preparation for my grand progress across the nation. But we go on... (or as my friend, the blessed and saintly Mervyn Stockbridge Gould would say: 'Well, you do, old boy'). Glistening cans of Budweiser in the refrigerator beckon but – get thee behind me, you bastards... too early and with my metabolism's new-found intolerance of boozo the wonder drink, today would turn to tears very quickly. The hovel appears to have A4 bloody pages everywhere – where's Alan Ginsberg when you need him to edit your oeuvre? Well, apart from the intrinsic fact that he's dead... Anyway, he might have started playing that bloody harmonium – even though it's Sunday morning, it wouldn't be vespers but omni padrhi something um and my head's a little foggy with lack of sleep and the after ring of expensive butg necessary Red Stripe – and now I've noticed that a small alteration I made yesterday to a quote before a chapter has come out on the wrong bit of the page, throwing completely the next pages format... God appears to be in a surrealist mood this morning... nice quote though, from the late Edward Dorn:
“...that eternal dissent
and the ravages of
faction are preferable
to the voluntary
servitude of blind
A great man and a great poet – not so well known as he should be and unfortunately he died of cancer a few years back. And now the print has decided to blur – the ink in the catridge which I bought on friday has given up. And so have I... cyber cafe tomorrow, I think...
I first heard James Chance when I was living in Holland and liked the collision of punk, funk and jazz. Probably a better player than he seems when you get beyond all that New York no-wave posturing cool. This is a track called 'King Heroin.' Homage to the VU, no doubt, but seedily wonderful. White punks on dope... Interesting to see the way that NY musicians worked out a lot of interesting collisions between jazz and rock/r and b/funk etc. With no doubt the examples of Ornette's Prime Time/Harmolodic whahoo – and Miles, perhaps, with 'Bitches Brew,' 'On the Corner,' etc. It certainly doesn't come out of fusion which was by and large a dreadful fucked up marriage between jazz and rock that valorised technique over feeling. Slow funky vamp over which Chance does his druggy vocal schtick and blows some interesting loft style alto. It works... One for Anthony and Betty on St George's day... a louche slice of Manhattan to go with the Joyce, Ornette and french wine.