Pomes

My previous appearance to read lyrics at the That Poetry Thing  Big Open Mic night was a great success.  For me, this time was a letdown.  Maybe it was my poetry (...) or maybe the reading which was pretty rushed or the writing which could be obscure.  But then I did particularly like a few lines.  The lyric was Sub dance, about AUKUS and more, so these passages tickled my fancy: "China score / restore war / Ever ready / silly, heady / Steady Eddie / Blind Freddie / Unsteady, spaghetti / sweaty, machete / Follow the leader / eager beaver / Ever eager / half-wit believer" or "History says it / Keating runs it / 'Nam reminds us / Afghan backs it / Mid-East fears it / Israel shows it / US dreams it / Aussie teams it / Lopsided, little prided / Ever guided, poorly sighted" or my fave "Labor once noble / still dreaming of trust / But lost and quiet / weedy, seedy / More sad than bad / But thus we ebb".  There were some very good new poets that impressed me.  Moral decathlon gave modern commentary from the 10 commandments.  Chris had one referencing Nietzsche called Dragon scales.  Quantum soup intrigued.  Lauren, Zoe, Myra, others; I took very poor notes.  I was interested to note the nature of the language, mostly free of rhymes but with structure.  Domestic violence is all the rage as an issue, but still I was stunned by two poets on it and the host concurring with their experiences.  Worrying.  There were the obvious long-termers with more serious awareness of form who impressed others in the know.  And good on them.  The far shores of any art are mostly in the awareness of the informed.  Nonetheless, interesting.

The That Poetry Thing Open Mic night was at Smiths.

Relaxedly literary

This was something new.  I had attended one or two Geoff Page poetry readings but not the local scene like this.  It was called That Poetry Thing, at Smiths, hosted by Penelope, open readings by whoever volunteered.  My offering was Double down, a spoken-word track from my Pumpkin discomforts / The Pots recited as poetry.  There was at least one other musician reciting (Jack recording as Small Town Alien).  A few other recited published poetry by others, but mostly it was original.  Laurie amused with a simple repetition of double not necessarily being better than the half until he gets to age (he wasn't young!).  I was sitting with Laura who presented an improvised poem, perhaps recorded only in my pic, I guess.  Powerful.  There was considerable amusement over mic management, cleaning and coddling.  Inevitable and obvious and  suggestive if not particularly noted.  Each presenter had 3 minutes, but this was casual.  Mostly they read one poem; some two or even three short ones.  The audience was warm and open and accepting.  Aaron finished with a lengthy bureaucrat-tease on climate.  Amusing but frightening.  Lois and Janice read; Bosco recited about a waterfall; Robin on revolution; Izzie (?) on the Telopea Park High School Band; Audrey and Louisa and Sarah and Audrey; not sure who was the Two cars canoodling but it was a corker; one was inspired by lust, perhaps more?  Excuse any missed names.  Most read; a few recited from memory; one or two improvised.  There was humour and seriousness and rhythm, rhyme and not, so various in style and approach and topic but always of interest.  A pleasant and intelligent and welcoming night.  Recommended. 

That Poetry Thing was a night of open readings that happened at Smiths.

DTs

I'm not really up to poetry and Dylan Thomas after a long day of two orchestral rehearsals. Nonetheless, I enjoy the imagination that combines recounted actors with unconventional actions and the alliteration and word play. It's pretty and playful. And the down-to-earth ordinariness of the characters as they go about their tasks and talk together. There's humanity in this ordinariness in this mid-C20th Welsh society that we a losing with all our efficiency and modernity and the rest. He's from Swansea and there's talk of that place, a seaside town with castle and cobblestones. We can visit from a distance now, with Street view, but it's pedestrian that way, with the blurred faces that are again, nothing like DT and his explorations. There's recited poetry and apparently text from a DT visit on a US lecture tour. We all recognise "Do not go gentle into that good night / Old age should burn and rave at close of day / Rage, rage against the dying of the light" and it's a transparently great but I particularly liked the images of people, the crossing of paths, social levels encountering over a pint. Bob Kingston presented this one-person one-act show that's travelled the world and passed through Street One. I guess he's close to the original, being from nearby Cardiff, in look and voice. Close enough for two DTs, perhaps, with stories of notorious drinking and disputes and accidents. It must have been close enough; someone over my right shoulder kept confirming it with a frequent "yes" to some statement or other. Amusing. Colourful language and colourful character presented with the most defined and refined of voices. I enjoyed the clarity of final letters, -t on night or light and even a trailing pair of -f-t on lift. We are slovenly in that aspect. It's just another factor that had me thinking this is out of time. Our greatness isn't so humane, being more a matter of law and logic than blood and babble. Listen to DT1 from DT2 and bask in the extraordinary depth of the commonplace spoken with colour, while we, more rationally, pursue free trade agreements and tax avoidance and comprehensive surveillance with bloodless bureaucratese.

Bob Kingdom (actor) channelled the poet in Dylan Thomas : Return journey at the Street Theatre.

Thanks to Wikicommons for the portrait of Dylan Thomas (1935) by Jessica Dismorr

Wrapping in the Rain

Not quite rapping, but definitely WRAP. We are in Beechworth for a few days with some mates. Beechworth is famous for Ned Kelly and gold and being a deliciously cute town. When we looked at what’s on, we found the Writers, Readers and Poets’ Weekend, an annual event in Beechworth. It’s not so big. A few public readings and a few workshops. A few locals and some decent imports: Tony Birch wrote Shadowboxing and was shortlisted for the Miles Franklin; Beverley Lello is a local from Yackandandah who’s written short stories and for anthologies and more; Eddie Paterson teaches scriptwriting at UMelb; Kevin Brophy has published 13 books of poetry, fiction and essays; Kate Rotherham teaches Creative Fiction and has published in Best Australian short stories and elsewhere. There are others. There are workshops and they are small and intimate, at least one we looked in on. We mainly just attended one public reading, in a light rain by the main roundabout in Beechworth so somewhat noisy, but it places poetry and culture at the heart of the real world, so good. We heard Jeff Braithwaite (?) with some political statements in poetry, about refugees and environment: “Where is your heart, Australia / Have you a red hot centre / Or just a cold hard stone”. I liked his honest ethics and open challenge to our current malaise. Then Lisa Ride who was associated with ANU (perhaps in the past) and was reading publicly for the first time. She rushed a bit, as early performers are wont to, but she was wily and amusing with a poem about commercialisation of Christmas then another about the centre aisle at Aldi, with its urgent specials. I associated easily with this: I have a USB microscope that was a great deal and is a story that amuses me no end, but which I’ve never used. Then Jean Memory (?), with several poems, A woman for all seasons (last line: “clever, thoughtful, well designed”), and Rachel and the fairies (about mother Rachel and baby) and another tongue-in-cheek suggestive one about janitors with clean premises and dirty minds. Then Amy Brown. Dr Amy teaches Creative writing at UMelb and has published several books, including Odour of sanctity, which she read from. OoS is an epic poem about six saints. She read lines about saint Rumwald of Buckingham, born 662CE, lived 3 days, spoke “Sum Christianus” as his first words before dying just days later. The 3-day speaking baby saint. Fascinating and richly lyrical language. Then Ro (?) with two poems on Trees and a humourous one on Molly the Moth. I am no poetry buff, despite hearing Les Murray at Poetry at the Gods only days before. There’s something in this, though, and it’s worthwhile. I’ll try for more. In the meantime, that’s a WRAP.

The Other Gods

I’ve finally got to Geoff Page’s Poetry at the Gods for the first night of 2014 with Les Murray. Here’s my pic with thoughts from Sue Terry, a friend and lit blogger at Whispering Gums.

Whispering Gums

Linked with permission … thanks to Sue, nicely done.

Dig the rhythm

It’s no surprise that Geoff Page was a teacher in his previous life. It was clear as he spoke of anapaest in the poetry of Melinda Smith. Geoff and Melinda were doing a dual poetry launch and each was introducing the other’s collection before the other read a few poems. Poetry is “metrical writing”, or at least that’s what one quote suggested, although it’s valued for more besides, not least imagery and concision in emotion. I was perfectly comfortable with Melinda speaking of iambic pentameters. Isn’t that standard Shakespeare? It’s also the base of Geoff’s unpretentious poetry. Anapaest was not something I recognised, although it’s easy enough when I looked it up (anapaest has stress-unstress-stress; iambic has unstress-stress). Geoff spoke of Melinda’s poetry as of a women’s sensibility and experience as well as of another generation. She even wrote in Twitter-verse of 140 characters, which must be an amusing challenge. Geoff’s iambs seemed more informal and conversational, less concerned with women’s issues (pregnancy was an obvious one) but equally concerned with issues of seriousness. But there’s also humour here. Geoff welcomed it in Melida’s poetry and lamented that humour is a missing element in much poetry today (and also elsewhere in society, as I thought while watching Keating’s reminiscences and wit on TV shortly after the launch). I remain a neophyte in poetry but words like this could touch this steadfastly practical realist. Geoff Page and Melinda Smith introduced each others’ poetry and each read a few lines at the Civic Library mezzanine. The collections were: Improving the News / Geoff Page and Drag down to unlock or place an emergency call / Melinda Smith, both published by Pitt St Poetry, 2013.

One year in a town

Despite the best of intentions, I never manage to attend Geoff Page’s poetry sessions at the Gods. But at least I got to the launch of a new book by Geoff the other night at the National Library Bookshop. Geoff is not just a jazz aficionado, promoter of the Gods jazz series and author of Bernie McGann’s biography. He’s also a renowned poet. I know nothing of poetry but I’ve felt an interest of late, and Geoff’s poetry is particularly easy to warm to. My understanding is that he writes long-form verse. What I hear and read is easy and appealing and respectful and broadminded. The book he was launching is called “1953” and is portrait in verse of a country town in that year.

Jack Waterford of the Canberra Times introduced the work. I read Jack’s articles with much pleasure. I find him informed but also calm and humane and sensible. Jack was an obvious choice for this job. He grew up in a country town, often speaks of mid-20th Century Australian rural life and is obviously influenced by it in matters of ethics, community, aboriginal relations and more. So he spoke here: of the war (WW2), the polio scare and the floods; of barber, publican and the woman running the phone exchange; of secrets, layers of history, of adulteries and infidelities; of relationships of Euros and Aborigines. He mentioned Dennis O’Rourke’s film Cunnamulla and the instantly recognisable characters in bush towns. He noted parallels with suburbs of the time, with their own networks of known characters. It’s different now (although there are some hangouts, like Ernie at out local post office). We are more secure, more comfortable and there’s less risk, but we lack that “rich tapestry” of characters and the “conscious[ness] that we were alive”. Geoff’s characters in 1953 may be fictional, but they are not caricatures. They lead rich and complex lives.

Geoff offered some of those characters in readings. The two girls who talk of a third. The gunshop owner who muses on the metal and the skill and the touch of wooden butt to cheek. Auntie Mary, the aboriginal mother, whose son was taken and who now drinks in sympathy with the community. I was struck by the image of a stolen aboriginal girl who could live in the white community “passing as Italian” and by the sense of otherness that was portrayed. And to finish, Geoff’s partner Allison, read “Me”, a rhyming verse of her own childhood of the time. Then another wine, a copy of the book to sign and home. An interesting and thought provoking outing. Geoff Page read poetry; partner Allison read verse; Jack Waterford introduced.

Geoff’s other side

Geoff Page staged a launch of his latest book of poetry at the Paperchain bookshop in Manuka last night. There were a string of poets and friends, but also a cabal of Geoff’s jazz-attending mates. Geoff is a regular at the Loft and has run his own monthly jazz session for years and written poems on jazz and a biography of Bernie McGann and performed his poetry with some of the best offsiders around. But this is his other side. His new publication is Cloudy nouns and he passingly promoted another collection of travel poetry written in iambic tetrameter, ABCB. He was introduced by jazz trumpeter Alex Raupach; his book was launched by once Canberra Times literary editor Gia Metherell; Geoff chatted and read some poems; finally the session was seen out by Geoff’s partner, Alison. There were wines and cheeses and the place was packed and chatty, so this was a pleasant evening of enlightenment and considered language. Of the readings, I particularly warmed to a travel poem on a French church tower with its discipline of rhyme and meter and witty interplay of architecture and divinity. But it’s best just to let the words speak for themselves (with Geoff's permission)

Breton belfries

Breton belfries are entirely
labour, granite, bells and air.
Through them you catch a slope of wheat
sometimes houses, starched and spare.
More often low slung swells of cloud
or sudden reaches of the sea.
The belfries let the wind flow through
showing God’s transparency.

Tangovariety

Whimsical and eclectic were Megan’s words and they may be right. Last night we saw Marcella Fiorillo again, playing Piazzolla. Marcella is wonderfully capable and richly interpretive of the Piazzolla piano repertoire, and Piazzolla is a hugely approachable master of the written, but perhaps not danced, tango. Given this, it was interesting that this performance, the launch of her new CD, was somewhat like a variety performance with an intellectual and cultural twist. It was compered (and presumably recorded) by ArtSound, opened by HE Pedro Villagra Delgado, the Argentine Ambassador, the music was presented and described by Dr Gerardo Dirié, Head of Music Studies at the Queensland Conservatorium of Music (yes, they still have one), accompanied by poetry from Geoff Page and tango dancing from Karina and Fabian Conca. So it was a rich collage of Argentine-related arts and intellectual pursuits and the suits and Spanish in the foyer confirmed the cultural connection. Marcella played brilliantly, and Piazzolla was his fabulous self with his NewYork connections and simple chordal movements and ardent embellishments. I felt Marcella played with considerable romantic passion, but thinking on, how could she not? I was particuarly fascinated by some intros, perhaps Otoño Porteño or Parafrasis sobre Adios Nonino, that were rich with dissonance and freedom that was lost somewhat in the busily embellished but essentially simple chords. I chuckled (as I do these days when I’m particularly enjoying well performed music) at some of the complex latin ardour and some truly fascinating time slippage between the lines in left and right hands, and I felt quite touched by a piece that was dedicated by Piazzolla to his recently deceased father. I chuckled also when Dr Dirié made comparisons with Pink Floyd’s Money and Iron Butterfly’s Inna gadda de vida (now that’s taking me back!). I think that was in context of bass riffs and walking bass. His other references were more serious, to jazz and New York in the ‘50s/’60s when Piazzolla lived there (lucky man) and Mahler and perhaps Ellington and Gershwin. I also chuckled with pleasure with the formality and brooding sensuality of the tango. I enjoyed the dancing with its distant faces and lightly placed hands and precisely flailing legs and that suit that just fell off Fabian as suits used to drape from my tailor-father’s gaunt body. I enjoyed Geoff’s poetry and the mysterious voice over the PA that spoke of Maria de Buenos Aires for one tune. The Spanish was delightful and toneful if only partly understood. I learnt various things: of Spanish pronunciation (the “c” in Marcella is pronounced as English “s” not “ch”: strange for me with my Italian background); of the milonga; of the tango. There were some minor haggles: the PA voice in Maria was way too loud; the tango dancers danced to recordings (but we heard some fabulous bandoneón playing, so OK). I would have just as much liked a night of Marcella, but this was more an overview of tango and the culture and for that it was great. So, a variety performance, perhaps, but informed and skilled and an entree to a culture whose country and continent I have yet to visit.

Marcella Fiorillo played Piazzolla at the Street Theatre. HE Pedro Villagra Delgado introduced, Dr Gerardo Dirié described, Geoff Page recited and Karina and Fabian Conca danced.

Bb not C#

The words we hear in jazz are much loved but they can be of little import: mostly love songs from the American songbook. On Sunday, I heard Geoff Page reading poetry about jazz, and he noted that “the lines are saccharine, of course, / but irresistible … where one could rhyme youth with sooth”. I like this and it’s so true, as were his other words. Someone mentioned that they liked Geoff’s poetry because it’s easy to understand. This certainly was: daily language, direct, short, unforced but still compelling, especially if you love jazz. Geoff obviously does and his words have depth. It’s not just Coltrane and Miles who appear in his stories, but Booker Ervin and Bobby Timmons and “Stewie Spears, the Sydney drummer, / whom no one much remembers now”. There’s real history here. There’s also a resigned annoyance at times, when Geoff despairs for art subdued by triviality. I was amused that I could guess the bar where the aficionado is surrounded by the shrieking cocktail-baited love market and also that this interfering conversation was in C#. It’s an engrossing passion that he writes of. He recollects the “brittle arguments of Miles / and all the psalms of John Coltrane” amongst the “rough percussion of the grinder” in a coffee bar. (Poets love coffee bars and Geoff seems no different). He notes “the running of the alto sax, / the high-jump of a trumpet”. Geoff plays the vibes and I understood his words well when he recounts that he “snatched / a phrase / and took / it home / to work on but / by dawn / it was / dead”. I learnt something from his neat summary of jazz theory that is his Parable in 4/4 and I’m still pondering this quote: “Minor third without the third / as T. Monk used to say”. Music is truly a hard task master.

Geoff was accompanied by bassist Alex Boneham. He’s a wonderful player and ably strong and commanding for this role. It’s an unusually exposed role for a bassist, demanding rhythm but also melody and harmony and responsiveness to lyrics. Alex did a great job. There were walks, there were grooves, there were blues and standards, Yesterdays and So what. But there was also melody and responsive dissonance and chromatics like the flattened notes that accompanied Geoff’s “before his girlfriend guns him down”. This was strong and edgy acoustic tone and inventive harmonic lines and it was all from big ears. The chart for the gig was just a few sparse written instructions although Alex admitted borrowing a few ideas from Eric Ajaye’s previous recordings with Geoff. That’s how art develops, of course. Congratulations to Geoff and Alex and also to Miriam Zolin of Extempore, the committed publisher who provides so much support to modern jazz in Melbourne and Australia.

“Life, he said, / is a set of chords - / and God, of course, / a jazz musician”

Geoff Page read his jazz poetry to the accompaniment of Alex Boneham (bass) at the Paperchain Bookshop in Manuka. Miriam Zolin introduced the set. The poems were from A sudden sentence in the air : jazz poems by Geoff Page. Melbourne: Extempore, 2011.

Cyberhalides Jazz Photos by Brian Stewart

A Catholic but not too much

“A Catholic but not too much” is a line from Astor Piazzolla in 1959, quoted by Geoff Page. It continues “We ourselves are God and Devil”. I was most interested to hear the Geoff’s words as he recited to music of Piazzolla played by Marcela Fiorillo. The words were poetry by Geoff with Piazzolla as theme and they were considered and descriptive. They were a steady point of reference for this emotional music. For this music is emotional, like the tango dancing that it accompanies, and I feel we just touch the edges of its passion. I may believe in the passion and the lives that are spoken by it, but it’s not of my experience. Writing this, I think of films around the time of WW2 that have a similar power: dignified paeans ripe with anguish of damaged and shortened lives. This is nothing like Canberra circa 2011 (except maybe in the PR hives of each of the major parties when weekly polling is released). Geoff’s words help: the mentions of shark fishing, of New York, of music for the ear as much as for the feet, of the hidden subversion at the time of the Generals, of the 11 minutes of the Grand Tango as the walk through one’s life. That’s not my experience but it’s recognisable, as Piazzolla is recognised and the tango is recognised.

Marcela Fiorillo was playing the music of Piazzolla, variously transcribed or arranged by her. It’s music full of busy, contorted overlays that sit over structures that are often quite simple. I noticed a very common recourse to a cycle that I guessed was the full range of fifths: IV-VII-III-VI-II-V-I. Maybe it’s a movement that fits the bandoneon. This is hard-hitting, unrelenting music that befits and mirrors the passions of the dance. The pieces were mostly fairly short, but the Grand Tango that ended the first set and especially the Tangata that ended the show were richer, longer, more developed pieces. This is the art-cum-folk or serious-cum-popular crossover that Gershwin represented for jazz: a music respected in concert hall and in dance hall.

Geoff and Marcela bring a mature and literate audience for a show like this and it fits Canberra’s dark Viennese bar, Tilley’s. The ruddy paint and contrasting sharp lights and mirrors are par for the course and did justice to the tango. The piano less so: it’s electric despite the timber casing and its tone disappointed. But the night was magical as a mix of words and thoughts and busy notes that spoke truly to Marcela’s background and Geoff’s interests. This was a homage to Piazzolla and a wise and respectful performance.

Marcela Fiorillo (piano, transcriptions, arrangements) accompanied Geoff Page (poetry, recitation) in the Grand Tango: a homage to Astor Piazzolla.