cat & bird

I've found it easier to 'get' poetry when it is spoken rather than on a page. I could recite it to my self but there's the distraction of self-awareness to deal with, not to mention the sound of my own voice, an acquired taste, possibly, but, generally, as a method it doesn't work for me. Other people reading it is much better. Providing they don't perform it. Of course - not naturally, which most find impossible to do. Only the poets should be allowed to do this, like Michael Donaghy reading his poem, Machines, in my first poetry post.

Unfortunately, the following poets passed before technology allowed their voices to be recorded. However, Zita Frith does quite a good reading of these. Not too act'tor-ish.

The Windhover, by Gerard Manley Hopkins. I think the kestrel was the first non-garden bird I came to recognise and know. Then, a few years ago, I noticed I hadn't been noticing them as often as I once had, maybe I had become bored with sighting them, moved on to other birds, then I came across one hovering just yards above me while walking the dog and I knew you couldn't fall out of love with the things. Some time afterwards I heard on the radio that their numbers had seriously declined in the UK. The usual suspect for this is human interference in the environment, destroying the habitat of their prey; small rodents and birds. Everything is so interconnected.

For I Will Consider My Cat, Jeoffry, a title that I doubt will ever fail to put a smile on my face. No doubt Christopher Smart was serious in his gratitude to God for having Jeoffry (this piece is an excerpt from his monumental work, Jubilate Agno, or Delight in The Lamb, though he was at the time confined in an asylum by his in-laws for mania). But still it makes me curl up because I've had a few cats in my time, and how often do you get the opportunity to delight in such expressions as ''gravity and waggery''? Not to mention the idea that any grown man should call his cat Jeoffry!

The percussion accompaniment is by Brendan Murphy, an untitled piece. Although, as a general rule, poetry needs no music, this time it doesn't distract from the words.

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I'm trying out Wordpress for size. I'm not sure if it'll merely mirror some of the posts here or be a whole different set of posts. It may be more autobiographic. I don't know...

hiromi uehara

Strolling through a fine Esbjörn Svensson Trio mix on Youtube this morning I discovered, sandwiched within a tranche of Thelonius Monk tunes, this. At first glance it looks like a return to showy excess: six stringed bass, too many drums, a corral of keyboards, and not to mention two necks on a guitar... Hold on though, this is pretty funky jazz, and sounds exquisitely clean.

The pianist is Hiromi Uehara. Her band is called Sonicbloom. Well, I'm hooked...



Lots more on Youtube, check her out.

addendum: actually, if you follow the mix, there's a performance from Hiromi earlier on. I didn't notice it at the time as I was working and only listening.

sad to know you're leaving

Friday, being poets' day, I usually catch Last Word on the radio, driving home from work. What is our fascination with obituaries? Next to the puzzle page, they are, allegedly, the most read single page in any newspaper. On the radio, the form expands into a mini documentary featuring audio clips and talking heads. You begin to wonder why they don't put it on the telly!

A couple of Friday's ago there was a piece about the reggae star, Gregory Isaacs. Isaacs had played a small part in my improver's relationship experimentation - a sofa, a girl and a lovers album - around the early 80s. Then reggae seemed to change pace and I lost interest, so it was a jolt to hear his life celebrated on Last Word.

So, last Friday I spent an afternoon listening to a Gregory Isaacs mix on Youtube. This is the first time I've used a youtube playlist. It was really quite good. I don't know why I'm surprised, Youtube is, surely, one of the finest websites on the wobbly web; precisely what the internet was made for.

But this video wasn't in the mix. I post it because it looked like a good gig: a veritable reggae gang show with an extensive, and casual, house band, and Isaacs, smooth and sartorial.