Sound Study: French music sounds nice.

Howdy.

So in my personal writing recently I've been very interested in the effect of sound.  It's one thing to write every right word at just the right time, but I'm starting to find if you can do this and make the sounds work in tandem with the meaning, however sub textually or obvious that meaning should be, a new level of intimacy between poet, reader, and words is reached.  I think by understanding the sounds a poet enjoys, it is like hearing the tuning fork of their very being.

The new found attention to sound has got me remembering my favorite French artists from the 1960s.  I speak a tiny bit of French, you know, as much as someone with two semesters of college French would know (i.e. none).  The point here is that even without understanding what the artists are actually saying, the sounds of their writing come through and let us in on their emotional resonance.

Here's Jacques Brel.  Sorry for not embedding, apparently every user on youtube that uploaded this video suggested that embedding be disabled... for whatever reason.

http://youtu.be/Vvy7kdziHYQ

Here's another favorite: Francoise Hardy.  It's a much cheerier song, and the sounds of the verses themselves have a strolling quality about them.  If you're interested, go to the youtube page where they have the lyrics in the description and read them line by line.  It's good stuff sound-wise... not to mention Francoise Hardy was super pretty.

<iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/w1Y_7XjkJ0g" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>

Enjoy.

Suggested viewing: William S. Burroughs: A Man Within

Hello all.  While stumbling around Netflix last night, I tripped over this documentary on William S. Burroughs.  While Burroughs was more known for his fiction, I think he was integral to the path of creative energy as we know it.  It features interviews with some of Burroughs' closest friends and colleagues including Allen Ginsberg, Patti Smith, and Thurston Moore (Sonic Youth) speckled with footage of Burroughs along his insanely active life.  It's a tragic, wonderful story.  It's worth a watch.  It's stream instant on Netflix.  Here's the trailer.

Poets I Like: Dr. Seuss

I had a friend who said she didn't like Dr. Seuss because of the nonsense words and how was that poetry? And I think at the time I said: he teaches your ear how to hear poetry.

This one doesn't contain any nonsense words, but nevertheless it is one of my favorites:



My hat is old.
My teeth are gold.
I have a bird I like to hold.
My shoe is off.
My foot is cold.

My shoe is off.
My foot is cold.
I have a bird I like to hold.
My hat is old.
My teeth are gold.
And now my story is all told.

(from Fox in Socks by Dr. Seuss)

Why do I love that?

In part because it reverses itself, and in the reversing still makes perfect sense. In part because the consonant sounds are soft, and so even with the declarative periods going on there is still a sense of wanting to read further because of that softness.

And in part because it tells an entire story with small details. What else do you need to know about this guy? You get the sketch.

Dr. Seuss isn't just someone you read to a little kid before they go to bed or at a library children's reading hour. He is a poet you read when you want to know how language should fit together, enchant, transform experience ...

...and not make you feel like sobbing into a jumbo popcorn with a bottle of bourbon after, although of course that is always optional and, at times, encouraged!




Dr. Seuss' Sleep Book simply exists in the world without enough superlatives to describe it. This is the poetry that fills your mind at 3 AM (ok, maybe you do have a sleeping toddler in the next room, maybe not, but regardless of the whether or not its deliciousness is neither increased nor diminished. I could go on, but just read it)




Viz.: sheer brilliance, needs no conclusion from me:

At the fork of a road
In the Vale of Va-Vode
Five foot-weary salesmen have laid down their load
All day they've raced round in the heat, at top speeds,
Unsuccessfully trying to sell Zizzer-Zoof Seeds
Which nobody wants because nobody needs.

Tomorrow will come. They'll go back to their chore.
They'll start on the road, Zizzer-Zoofing once more.
But tonight they've forgotten their feet are so sore.
And that's what the wonderful night-time is for.