Showing posts with label George Harrison. Show all posts
Showing posts with label George Harrison. Show all posts

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Buddha of Suburbia: Issa's Sunday Service #127




 

The Buddha from Suburbia, the eponymous song from one of David Bowie's most overlooked albums, is named after the 1990 novel by Hanif Kureishi, hence it's literary lineage.  This song is the only one from the soundtrack for the four-part BBC series that Bowie was commissioned to produce and, though classified as a soundtrack, really isn't at all.  There are two very interesting, Eno-like instrumentals on the album, plus a second take of the title track with Lenny Kravitz wailing away on guitar.


Kureishi's first big project (aside from his early stint as a pornography writer) was the screenplay for the great 1985 film, My Beautiful Launderette, a long-time personal favorite of mine.  If you haven't seen it (or perhaps even if you have) here's a 10 minute clip that gives a good feel for the film:







If its one you missed, check it out - among other things, it has a great early performance by Daniel Day-Lewis.

And, finally, here is the official video for the BBC series:








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In case you missed it this week, here is a fine poem by angie werren from tinywords, an exemplary online/print mag which has accepted a new poem of my own for publication in a forthcoming collection:


he thinks again of turning leaves her hands
-angie werren


from tinywords
http://tinyurl.com/7l2c886




Let's finish up with two songs that popped up on the ipod on my walk to work on Friday.  First George cutting through all the bullshit, Beatle and otherwise:








Next, the rock song with the hottest guitar riff ever (got a hotter one?  I'm listening ...):







My Old School by Steely Dan on Grooveshark



And rounding it all off with two poems from the magnificent collection of the work of Buddhist Nun Rengetsu, Lotus Moon, to be added to the one I posted previously (you can buy it at an independent seller here:


When a Thief Came
If the mountain bandit
Came to my place
To steal away
Golden oak leaves
He struck it rich!






The Thief
Nor a trace
Of a thief
But he left behind
The peaceful stillness
of the Okazaki Hills.
Rengetsu







the mountain moon
gives the blossom thief
light
Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue





In case you noticed, yes this is lengthier than it should be for someone on partial hiatus, but I did warn you that staying away from music was never going to completely happen.

And yes, it also means that progress continues on the anthology.  Solid progress.




best,
Don



Send a single haiku for the Wednesday Haiku feature. Here's how.

Go to the LitRock web site for a list of all 127 songs

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Sculptures of Silence & Thanks George



Today is the anniversary of the death of George Harrison. Most folks know the story of George as little brother, always tagging along behind Paul and John. But, when it came to music, though not as prolific, at his best he was every bit their equal. And his spirit was, and is, immense. From Isn't It A Pity:


Isn’t it a pity
Isn’t it a shame
How we break each other’s hearts
And cause each other pain
How we take each other’s love
Without thinking anymore
Forgetting to give back
Isn’t it a pity

Some things take so long
But how do I explain
When not too many people
Can see we’re all the same
And because of all the tears
Your eyes can’t hope to see
The beauty that surrounds them
Now, isn’t it a pity

There is a new chapbook out by Franz Wright entitled Address from the Vallum Chapbook series out of Montreal. I've just read and done a work up of a review for the Small Press Review. It is a limited run of 200 and if you are a fan of Wright, this is his finest work yet. In fact, this is the best book of poetry I've read this year and I have read quite a few.

Continuing the tour through past issues of Lilliput, what follows is from #131, with cover art above by Christoph Meyer.


When the known
& unknown are
one what is there
but poetry?
~ Scott Watson


A Reply to Ars Poetica
A poem should …” says Archibald, and by
the third word has circumscribed our world.
~ Liam Weitz


I think there is a way
to sculpt silence.
Perhaps that’s what
poems are:
sculptures of silence.
~ Albert Huffstickler


Breakfast
A cup of sweet coffee
one salted egg
a side of salsa
glass of nouns
a bowl of verbs
several silent vowels
swimming in sharp consonants
~ Lonnie Hull DuPont


The Poetry Reading
Metal chairs, bad backs,
the cups of bargain wine.

Outside
cold mists travel the cedar grove,
stirring a hidden gong.
~ Suzanne Freeman




I continue to work on new issues, now long since overdue. Hopefully, some will begin to hit the mails in the next two weeks, the rest following shortly thereafter.



best,

Don