Awesome Books/Lascaux Editions is happy to announce the publication of Jimmy Cvetic's Secret Society of Dog, his debut book of poetry with Awesome Books.
Jimmy Cvetic, aka Dog, is a retired Allegheny County cop who writes like Bukowski with a badge. Having worked for over 30 years in Pittsburgh as a uniformed officer, an undercover narcotics agent, and a homicide detective, Cvetic offers a unique glimpse into the real life trials, tribulations, and black humor of police work. Having amassed over three thousand poems over the past fourdecades, he bears witness to the full range of the human drama - from horrific tragedies to dark comedies of folly.
Jimmy Cvetic will read from Secret Society of Dog at Hemingway's, 3911 Forbes Avenue in Oakland.
The reading starts at 8 pm on Tues, Nov. 16,and admission is FREE.
"These are the best poems I've ever read about cops. Not only are the voices totally convincing, but the poems are various in terms of tone and content. And the comic poems bristle with a black humor appropriate to their subject. Secret Society of Dog is a terrific read." Ed Ochester, poet and Editor of the Pitt Poetry Series
"This is a poet that moves me and scares the hell outta me but he's too much of a human being to veer from the truth. He's a retired narcotics officer that lived the streets, who writes from depths of soul. His poetry speaks to the heart of the human condition." Nick Nolte, actor The Prince of Tides, Affliction, 48 Hours, Lorenzo's Oil, The Thin Red Line
The Pittsburgh Art Blog features selected pittsburgh artists and upcoming exhibits with photos from the artists and galleries. since the major press outlets do not go beyond a directory listing of exhibits, blogs are needed to promote pittsburgh artists and their work. the blog also calls attention to the inferiority complex of pittsburgh art and how it's perpetuated by the major players in town. Started on August 20,2007. pittsburgh area galleries and art venues are listed at the sister site www.PghGalleries.com.
the blog and website are volunteer projects from fine art photographer and pittsburgh artist advocate rick byerly.
The following article/interview with poet/musician Jim Carroll, written by Julia Masi, was originally published in FFanzeen magazine; part one appeared in issue #6 (1980), and Part II in issue #7 (1981). Jim Carroll passed away in September 2009, so I republish this in tribute; even though I personally was not a fan, I respect his accomplishments. I did see him perform a number of times at CBGB’s, however, jumping in with the Lenny Kaye Connection. – RBF
Part I: The Poet
[Jim Carroll] He may be a rookie to the rock’n’roll stage, but already Jim Carroll’s got a following. Last summer, a group of his devoted fans traveled from San Francisco to New York for his Fourth of July gig at Irving Plaza, where his music was more dynamic than the firework symphony in the street.
If he has any gimmick at all, it’s his honesty. He’s as willing to lay it on the line during an interview as he is in his most recent book, The Basketball Diaries, or his stunning debut album, A Catholic Boy, on Atco Records.
In fading blue jeans and a plaid shirt that matches his reddish blond hair and off-sets his clear blue eyes, Jim seems younger than his 29 years. He’s spent the past few years living in California, but he hasn’t lost his New York accent or his effection for the City. On August 22, he spoke almost non-stop to this awe-struck reporter, explaining his evolution from Pulitzer Prize nominated poet to up-and-coming rock’n’roll star.
[Organic Trains (1967)] “Poets were always rock’n’roll stars. It’s kind of like the poet’s right to sing, as loudly and as vulgarly as he wants to. Poets now-a-days have forgotten that. Poets now-a-days are more concerned with a kind of style and not so much [with] heart. A good poet should work on two levels. The heart effects someone who is virtually illiterate. The heart level really has no verbal sophistication at all. And then [the poem] should effect the intellect as well.
“The whole thing that puts me off to the poetry scene is that it’s become kind of petty and incestuous. That’s out of frustration and I understand it, because of the way Americans take on poetry, you’d think of him as a wimp; so it’s out of frustration that poets say, ‘Fuck everything. I’m not writing for the public anymore, I’m writing for other poets.’ And they start to get into all these systems of style, like minimal poetry, which really has to do with head games, you know, intellect games.
“I wanted to get back to what the traditional role of the poet’s always been, the way he’s honored in France as the most noble profession. Doctors and lawyers envy poets there – still. And, in America…” he pauses to light a cigarette and leans forward, “I don’t give a shit that most people think poets are faggots. Or whatever their fucking ideas of poets are. I decided that I was, in the traditional sense, gonna make poetry a noble profession again.” He recalls the conversation he used to have with Patti Smith and how he would tell her, “’You just have to write your lyric and put it there. And not worry about publishing or effecting people. It’s just writing for history. Actually, it’s a great honor to be a poet now,’ I’d say to her, “’because the world is probably gonna fuckin’ blow itself up before we die and we’ll be the poets to record the end, even if there’s no one left to read it… No, we should be concerned about life and effecting people while we’re still alive.’”
[Upside Down (1970)] After giving some thought to the way he was, and wanted to effect people, Jim realized that he needed a larger audience. And rock seemed like a perfect medium. “Kids perceive lyrics through the heart that they can’t intellectually. Say certain lyrics by the Velvet Underground; certain illusions and stuff would be over kids’ heads, but they’d get them.” His musician friends were always asking him to write lyrics. He had collaborated with Patti Smith and Allen Lanier, of the Blue Oyster Cult. “At first, I thought I would just do lyrics. But then, when I saw punk happening, I realized that I didn’t need all the technical ability that was traditionally needed. I could do my songs myself because no one can interpret the songs as well as the person who writes them.
“I wrote the music to my songs to my vocal limitations. And I had the band write the music to my own limitations. As I got better, I took more risks with my voice. I wanted to be careful. I didn’t want to write art. I didn’t want to make an art record. I hate that. I didn’t want poems with just music behind them. I wanted them to be songs. Maybe on the next record we’ll have some songs with spoken introductions that go right into the songs,” he kicks his foot and pushes the palm of his hand forward to emphasize, “that kick right into songs. But that’s easy for me. That’s what I’ve always done and it’s my strength. But I wanted to get the hard part out of the way first and just find myself with this first record.
“Kids are the hardest to lie to and most rock’n’roll lyrics are like an afterthought: in 90 percent of the cases, they’re more like the musician’s idea of what a lyric should be. And they’re not integral to that person’s experience. And so that way, when you sing them, they’re not real. They could be sung by anyone. You’re singing them but you might as well be a stranger yourself then, because they’re not about your experience. They’re about what your idea of a rock song experience should be like. Like limiting the subject matter to getting laid or not getting laid; those songs might as well be sung to some fucking fly stuck to some roof of some abandoned Chateau somewhere, for all the relevance they have to that guy who sings with no experience. They might as well be instrumentals. What I care about is putting all my vulnerability up front, especially on stage.
[Living At the Movies (1973)] “When we first started doing shows, that’s what people recognized. I was always worried about what I was going to do when I got on stage. When I’m singin’, it’s okay, but when the instrumental break comes… Mick [Jagger] could dance around and stuff and it’s fantastic, but I can’t do that. I’d look like a fool. I can dance and shit but it wouldn’t be real to me. So I just decided that when I get out there, what I’ll just do is not rely on being influenced by anyone in my stage presence. If the songs are integral, if the words are integral to my experience, then my moves on stage will be integral to the words. Just let them move me. It was incredible the way it happened.” Jim’s eyes grow wide and a look of genuine surprise takes over his face: “ When I got out on the stage for the first time, I had fun on stage. I had music there instead of just doing poetry readings. I was moved out of my head. When I saw a video tape for the first time of myself on stage, I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t remember doing all those things…making any of those moves. I make very minimal moves most of the time.” That’s when he’s on stage. During an interview, he moves constantly. His long legs wrap themselves around each other, dangle over the arm of the chair, and stretch out in front of him as if he were unconsciously performing a yoga regimen. He explains, “[My movements] reflect my vulnerability the same way that the lyrics reflect their vulnerability fro their experiences. When people mention that, they say it’s mesmerizing when it’s right…when the magic happens.
“When a person puts forth their vulnerabilities – their weaknesses and their strengths – then it can’t be anything but an experience for the other person to relate to it. And I make the lyrics just abstract enough so that people can see that they come out of my experience, but they’re also abstract enough so that they can take them and make them their own, too. They just hit a chord in the heart.
[The Basketball Diaries (1978)] “If you write lyrics just for the intellect, it comes out some phony stream of consciousness bullshit. It’s like rhetoric. Or else, you try to be clever, like some art band, and it’s like some tenth-rate William Burroughs. I hate groups like that. They’re trying to be clever and it’s all paraphernalia and gimmickry. They take no risks at all. They don’t show anything of themselves. It’s all hidden behind gimmicks and outfits, and things like that. That’s theater. Rock’n’roll is just about putting it out with force. And it’s real. It’s immediate. They lyrics need immediacy. Their own vulnerability’s right there. Let everything show.” He speaks with disgust of the “cock row” (heavy metal) bands, calling them “devious. Rock’n’roll is about sex, sure, but it doesn’t have to be completely. I don’t believe that and I don’t buy it. It should have some kind of integrity. As a poet, that’s what I’m trying to do: show that poetry does have integrity.
“But the line I have that sums it up most,” he quotes his song, “It’s Too Late,” “’I’m here to give you my heart and you want a fashion show…’ I saw that with the punk scene. There’s certain element of it, in San Francisco, where they make punk clubs into singles bars. They don’t listen to the music. They just come decked out in outrageousness. They don’t realize it’s like the hippies of the ‘60s. As I see here [in New York], the people in clubs, more and more lately, are evolving back into just looking like street kids. Fashion is great, but inconspicuousness allows you to get a lot of things done that you don’t, if you look outrageous.
“I want to be part of life. I don’t want to be standing on the edge looking into it. I have to do that by the nature of what I am anyway. Why should you outcast yourself in some kind of outside environment? I went through a whole period when I had my hair long and stuff, even through I wasn’t into the hippie scene. I just thought it was wrong. I was a street kid. I guess the reason I grew my hair long was just to get laid and be an outcast ‘cause the girls I was with dug it. But now I just think differently. My art’s too important for that anymore. If people do it, then it’s fine. But in my position, the way things are for me, I just find I can be more effective without it. Without having any particular style or fashion: ‘It ain’t no contribution / To go and rely on an institution / To validate your chosen art / And to sanction your boredom, and let you play out your art’ [“It’s Too late”],
[Book of Nods (1986)] “And then I talk about the negativity of the whole scene. I say two things. In some song I say, ‘It’s when the body at the bottom / That body is my own reflection / But it ain’t hip to sink that low / Unless you’re gonna make a resurrection’ [“Into the Night”]. I’m speaking more about my own experiences with drugs and stuff,” which he speaks more about only in the past tense. “You know, there’s nothing heroic about it. You know, that whole thing about, like, a lot of people get into it because it stacks you up above everyone else – the whole romance of the whole thing? They think it’s heroic. And it is heroic in the sense that at least you’re not a dilettante. You’ve thrown yourself over into it completely. You have a chance to be heroic in the real traditional sense of poetry, to start a second life, by coming out of the fuckin’ pit. And I say also in that same song, ‘When they got nothing to give / They parent their legs for what’s negative / They’re so decadent, until their daddy’s money from home is all spent… / So I think it’s time / Because it’s too easy to rely / On worshipping devils and strangers in bed / Though they get good drugs and they do give good head’ [“Into the Night”]. I like those lines,” he smiles. “It is true, you know? I can’t completely deny them, myself. The attraction of the negative. It’s been a part of my life for too long. To look for the good is so much harder.
“”The mythology and the ritual of Catholicism, I’ve come back to. I think it’s fantastic. The whole cult of the Virgin is very attractive. It’s the only feminine side to Western religion. The Virgin is hardly ever mentioned in Protestant religions.
“A good poet should have a feminine side to him. The thing that made me feel best about a review one time, was that [the critic was] saying that I had the ‘best feminine side of any poet in America,’ which has nothing to do with homosexuality. The guy pointed out that. It’s usually homosexuals that have the least feminine side in the works. It’s like Jung said, [that] every guy has a female side and every woman has a male side. Which, as an artist, is imperative to have. And it comes naturally to me.”
Referring to the title of his album, Jim comments that, “A lot of people think that’s an anti-Catholic song.” Comparing the discipline of Catholic elementary school to a jail, he recites, “’I took the doctor’s scalpel, and I slit the cord’ [“Catholic Boy”]. I wanted life. But then, all of a sudden, I got put back in the fuckin’ slammer. They confine you with dogma and put boundaries around it. But the mythology is just the opposite, to open up. It’s about the letting of blood. There’s a lot of images of blood. I call my album Catholic Boy because my whole life is based on [it]. Your history comes out of the streets and what effects you when you were young. That’s what’s in your heart and that’s what’s in your gut. You can’t escape it. People who go to Eastern religions after they grow up are looking in the wrong way. That’s only in the intellect that you think about it. But in the heart, you have to rely on what you grew up with when the heart was formed. In the heart sense, in the sprit of it. And that’s Catholicism for me.
[Fear of Dreaming (1993)] “What could be more ‘punk rock’ than the Stations of the Cross? Following a guy around with a crown of thorns and a crucifix – His own crucifix – up to the top of a mountain, and having Him pierced in the side by a centurion so that the blood flows? And that blood! I think that’s what the crucifixion was all about. When the centurion struck Him in the side and this magical blood came forth, that was supposedly mixed with water – a Holy Water – that blood was a letting out of all man’s ego. He had to die for man’s ego because man’s ego had built up to such a point. I mean, man’s ego is overwhelming. His arrogance. And his pride.”
He leans forward and drops the level of his voice until it’s just above a whisper. “When I think about it intellectually, it makes sense to me, and that was what junk was all about. After a while, you just wanted to do it to keep watching the blood come up. And letting the blood come out to take out your own ego, because when you were high on junk, you could see the bullshit of what it was. It just slowed everything down and your vision was narrowed. Most people think you just go on the nod. Well, people who go on the nod are wasting a heroin head. I liked a good nod as much as anyone when I was on the stuff. But man, I wanted to see people and their bullshit, too.”
Sinking back into his chair, he admits that, “with this ‘Catholic Boy’ song, that’s kind of anti-Catholic school, but when I say ‘redeemed through pain not through joy,’ that’s the way it should be. The fact is that these Born Again people, you hear them speak, they testify, ‘The Lord is with me 24 hours a day. I get joy from Him. I get such a buzz.’ It’s like a methadone maintenance program for religion. They’re gonna get the buzz 24 hours a day or nothin’s happenin’. They want something back for it.
[Poems, Interviews, Photographs (1997)] “The thing that I always thought about religion was, that if you love God, you don’t do it because you’re afraid you’re gonna go to Hell. You don’t not sin because you’re afraid you’re gonna go to Hell or because you want to get into Heaven and get this 24 hour a day buzz. You do it because God made you. And you’re alive. And that’s all! If you’re redeemed through pain; if you pray three months that this good friend of yours is not gonna die of leukemia and he dies anyway and you’ve still got faith in what you’ve been praying to before, then that’s love of God and belief. And I don’t get any buzz from that. The fact is I can’t even say I have faith in God. In an intellectual sense, I don’t even know if I can believe in It. There’s too much else happening. But I love the rituals of it. And I want to believe it in my heart. And sometimes I can believe it. But it’s very hard.
“Like Rimbaud said, ‘Charity is a key.’ And that’s what the letting of the blood of Christ is all about: charity. And charity has to be the key more ever now. And those people just don’t think about that.”
Jim tells of his friend who embraced the diet and philosophy of an obscure religious cult. He lived in the desert fasting and preparing himself for the destruction of civilization. He ate only fruit and things that grew from the trees in an attempt to purify his body enough so that he would be able to consume his own urine. Jim explains that, “apparently, during Armageddon, when the Four Horsemen come and the world’s ending, then you can get by and survive, ‘cause you don’t need any food. All the food’s gonna wither. You can get by on your own cycle of pissing and drinking it. And in theory, that works. But the whole point to me was, and I said this to him one time, what the fuck are you gonna do, hide in a cave during a nuke war and drink your own piss? Why would you want to, man? What I’d wanna do is just be around the person I love most. Or, if not, be with any stranger if you didn’t have time to make it to that person.
“I’d feel really left out at this point, if there was a nuclear war and I didn’t die. I don’t want to be in a cave drinking piss. The only thing we could do then is give comfort. I’d want to grab the hand of the person that was next to me, whether it was the person I loved, or some stranger if I couldn’t make it to that person, if the world was ending real quick, and just grab them in whatever shelter you’re in. Or in the subway or wherever you’re hiding from this fuckin’ attack; and just grab that person and hold her hand as tight as you can and just grab hands with the other people. I’m physically a cold person. Usually, I’m not into, you know, that California stuff where everyone touches and hugs people and stuff. That always made me uptight. But is this case, I’d wanna hold the person’s hand so tight. You only have a few seconds. It’s the only time that charity would win out in this fucked up world.
“People would be more alive in those last few seconds – because death was comin’ – then they would be in their whole lives. Death would be life for them then. It’s such an irony, but that’s the case. People would feel for once for the person next to them instead of just for themselves. They look into someone else’s eyes and probably see for the first time in their life, because the edge of death and that flirtation with death always brings that out.
“So this guy drinking piss, what’s he gonna do? First of all, if Revelations is right and the world is gonna end through some kind of mystical thing, the Four Horsemen and the Apocalypse, there ain’t no cave you’re gonna be able to hide in. Those Four Horsemen are gonna check out everything. The whole idea is people are gonna pray to die and not be able to die. So he ain’t gonna be able to hide. If it’s more like just a straight pragmatic nuclear war and everything’s gonna be destroyed, then he could hide from it in a cave.” He lowers his voice again. “But why would you want to? What would you come down to? A bunch of fuckin’ mutants!”
Part II: Soundtrack of the Times
Jim Carroll, 1994 Some people spend their whole lives searching for the spotlight, while others stumble into it repeatedly. Take Jim Carroll for example.
When Jim Carroll chronicles his career, he makes fame sound so easy: a published poet by the time he was 16, a Pulitzer Prize nomination at 22, a best selling author (The Basketball Diaries), and rock star at 29. But his success wasn’t’ built on pure luck. He admits he has no patience with dilatants. He puts everything he has into everything he does. And what he possesses is an incredible talent that can not be ignored.
He grew up tough and fast on the streets of Manhattan. And if it wasn’t for a scholarship to a private high school, he might have ended up like the rest of his friends he mentions in his song, “People Who Died.” But something in his blue eyes suggests that he was always too smart to be consumed by the streets. As a kid writing The Basketball Diaries, he had shown an incredible perception and lack of self-pity.
Jim Carroll took to poetry as soon as he was introduced to it. Knowing the value of voyeurism, he set out to study the best contemporary poets of the ‘60s by attending a Greenwich Village poetry workshop.
“I was hanging around down at St. Mark’s Church, at the Poetry Project down there, where Allan Ginsberg, Anne Waldman, Ted Berrigan and all these people would read. I didn’t say anything to anybody there. I just stayed and watched in the audience.” At the time, Jim had already begun to write poetry. He showed some of it to a high school friend whose brother ran the press at City College. The brother immediately wanted to publish them. “I only had about thirty pages of poems that I wanted published
Catholic Boy (1980) “I was too shy to introduce myself to the people at the poetry scene. But then when I had this book, I could give it to them and that way I could introduce myself. And they said, ‘We wondered who you were, if you were a poet or just spyin’ on us.’ Then I started to publish when I was 16, in the magazine that they ran out of [St. Mark’s], The World. And every twelve issues, Bobbs-Merril Publishers would publish this big hardcover anthology of the best works from it. From that I started to get from the underground press into hardcover publishers and stuff. And then I started publishing in the Paris Review, because this poet, Tom Clark, was the poetry editor and he hung out at the St. Mark’s thing.
“And that’s where I first published the diaries, too. They asked me if I had any prose because they were having a prose issue of The World. I said, ‘All I have is these diaries that I kept when I was young.’ And I started to read them at poetry readings at St. Mark’s and they always went over real well. And when George Plimpton read them, he asked me to give him some for the Paris Review [for which he was editor]. I gave him twenty-five pages and I got letters form all these publishers who wanted to publish them. But I didn’t want to publish that book until I published a really big volume of poetry because I didn’t want to be known as a street writer. I wanted to show that I could write as a poet. It was stupid. It was being hung up with style.”
Jim held off publishing the diaries because most editors “wanted to make some changes in it and give it more sociological meaning. Like why I was doing all this and stuff. Since I wasn’t the same age anymore, as 13 to 15, it would’ve been bullshit to change them. Each one I kind of wrote to be a short story; to stand by itself. They weren’t day-to-day diaries. They were all subjective little short stories and anecdotes. I didn’t want to put in any, like ‘Dear Diary, why is this happening to me? Because my parents hate me, I’m shooting junk.’ Bullshit! I did it because I wanted to party.
[Dry Dreams (1982)] “I never had any editor touch my work at all. Even when I was 16. I wouldn’t allow it. And now that I can command it, of course, I don’t let them. If an editor makes suggestions, that’s one thing. But the only thing I think of an editor as is someone who checks for typos and misspellings. I just didn’t like the idea of that. I really cared about the diaries since this was a book that I wanted kids to read. And I wanted a big distribution on it instead of just to the poetry audience. I wanted a paperback house. All I cared about was the paperback edition because it was affordable for the kids.”
After he published Living in the Movies, the book that earned him a Pulitzer Prize nomination in 1974, he moved to California and became a recluse. “I didn’t like the lifestyle in California, that kind of mellow, laid-back shit. I just wanted to use a landscape. I didn’t associate with anyone. I just lived in the country. I had dogs for the first time in my life. I love animals, but could never have them. I’d bring home strays every week when I was a kid and my mother would say, ‘The city’s no place for a dog.’ You know that line? So, once I got out there, I got, like, four dogs. And I’d take these long walks with ‘em and I was writing a lot of poetry and these prose poems, thinking about what I was going to do with the diaries.
“Then, after, I slowly decided I was going to do rock, by what I was writing and what I was reading.
“The book that effected me the most was The Time of the Assassins, by Henry Miller. It was s study of Rimbaud’s works, but it’s really a study of Henry Miller by Henry Miller. It speaks about how a poet – real poet – has to effect the heart as well as the mind. And you have to effect people who are virtually illiterate, as well as the people who are intellectuals. Rock’n’roll is the way you effect people on the social level.”
His initiation into rock’n’roll was a fluke. He had a small part in an underground film with Patti Smith, where he was reading this poem, “The Guitar Voodoo.” [The poem is about a girl with a magical guitar; whenever she plays the strings she inflicts pain to an enemy. The faster the guitar strings vibrate, the worse the pain gets.] The day after the film was shot, Patti Smith was giving a concert in San Diego. She asked Jim to go along.
[Praying Mantis (1991)] Her opening act, a heavy-metal band, began to pose a problem, so Patti cancelled them and announced, “’Jim will open the show.’ I said, ‘Wait a minute, Patti, what am I gonna do?’ She said, ‘We’ll do what we did in the movie last night, only the whole band will play behind you.’ It was very generous of her because it takes away the whole anticipation of an opening act. Patti would just come out playin’ a guitar behind me. I said, ‘Well, that’s cool. I’ll do it, but I’m not gonna read this thing ‘cause I’d be too nervous. I’ll start shaking with the piece of paper. I didn’t have it memorized. I’ll do some of the lyrics that I’ve been writing with Allan [Lanier of Blue Oyster Cult]; but we don’t’ have time to work out the music that Allan did, so I’ll just rap ‘em and you guys can jam.’ And, of course, Lenny [Kaye] and all those guys were real good at that. In the early days, they’d just jam while Patti made up lyrics. So, they started to play and I did these two songs; just rapped ‘em. Patti came over to me and was, like, leanin’ up against me while I was doin’ it. I was totally out of it. Then I loosened up and it was great. It was about ten minutes long – just right. The audience really dug it. Everything was very clear and this energy was coming at me from behind, so it was just like this sandwich of energy. It was fantastic.”
His poems went over so well that he was invited to the Mabohay Gardens to do a gig of his own. But at this point he didn’t have a band, and Allan Lanier was busy finishing the music if the songs they’d been working on. But Jim’s never been restrained by obstacles. He knew a San Francisco bar band called Amsterdam that he’d met one day while he was hitchhiking. “I got a ride from two of the guys in the band. They said, ‘Yeah, you’re a poet. We’ve read your book and stuff. You ever think of writing lyrics?’ And I said, ‘Well, people have spoken to me about it. I’ve been doing it a bit with this old friend of mine, Patti.’ But they weren’t into punk music. They were straight out of the Stones.” He remembers telling them, “Well, maybe we’ll do something together sometime at a poetry reading or something, and you guys can play behind me.” He approached them about playing the Mabohay.
“We had about a week’s rehearsal, and we worked out the music for, like, six songs. And I wanted to make sure they were songs and not just poems with music behind hem – just jamming – like that night with Patti or even lyrics with the music. I wanted to make them integral songs, with breaks, as best I could, or else just rap ‘em. But having these songs, it went over so well that the guy [who owned the club] asked us to come back the next week and play the last show when we could really turn up the volume. We did the gig the next week on a weekend night, so there was a huge crowd. People from the poetry scene were there, as well as people from the punk scene. I was really getting into it. We saw it was working.”
Amsterdam continued to perform at their old haunts before the Jim Carroll Band was officially formed. Whenever they’d back up Jim, they would hide their long hair under berets, “so the people weren’t shouting, ‘Get these hippies off the stage.’ I just wanted the band not to have any one look and not be pinned because it turns people off – especially in the clubs. They say, ‘Oh, these guys were playing hippie music.’ And that wasn’t the case when we started to work together.
[Pools of Mercury (1998)] The Jim Carroll Band – Brian Linsley and Terrell Winn on guitars, Steve Linsley on bass and Wayne Woods on drums – could easily stand alone. They’ve each co-written something with Jim for the band’s debut album Catholic Boy, and although their music is loud, fast and extremely easy to dance to, it never overshadows Jim’s haunting lyrics.
“I demand attention when I play. It’s not just shit-kicking music. That’s part of it. I just want people to listen. Listen with their ears and listen with their hearts, too. I want them to take something away with them. I don’t want them just to come and dance and exhaust themselves and split. I want them to go home with an image in their minds. Just one image that will stick with them and move them – feel not better about themselves or anything like that, just think about themselves, or think about some image that’s left.”
The band quickly built up a following playing around the San Francisco area, and they knew the time had come to go into the studio. They recorded a six song demo tape at an eight-track studio, and when Jim returned to New York for the release of The Basketball Diaries, he took the demo with him. He had intended to bring it around to some of the record companies, but as luck would have it, he didn’t need to.
Jim’s publisher threw a party for him at the Gotham Book Mart. One of the guests was Earl McGrath, former president of Rolling Stone Records. McGrath had heard about Jim’s band through a mutual friend, artist Larry Rivers. He was anxious to hear the band and invited Jim to bring the tape to his office. Assuming that nothing would come of it expect possibly a little honest criticism, Jim brought this tape to Rolling Stone Records.
“When he heard it, he was just silent for about five minutes. It seemed like ten hours, and I thought, ‘He hates it.’ Then he said, ‘This is very strong and very different. Keith’s been looking for something to produce so I think we’d like to do something with this.’ And I was besides myself ‘cause I knew the band would freak.”
Originally, Keith Richards wanted to produce Catholic Boy, but he was tied up recording with the Rolling Stones. McGrath stepped in as producer, and when he made a move from Rolling Stone to Atco Records, he took his pet project with him.
“It took a long time after me signing before it came out. By my own choice, we put off doing it because I didn’t want to start recording until I had a total handle on the songs, by doing them live. The tendency is to just rush into the studio with the first album and do it real quick. I think it’s a mistake to rush in. I’m glad we took our time.
“We had all the arrangements and stuff, so once we got into the studio, we did it very quickly. We did two sessions about a month apart. Five days the first time and four days the second, four hours each, and we did that in San Francisco. We mixed it here. The band stayed out there, and I came back to do some of the vocals.”
Before the album came out last October, Jim had only played two shows in New York. His first gig turned into a showcase. The tiny club was filled with so many record company people that there was hardly any room for fans of either the Jim Carroll Band, or his surprise guest, Keith Richards. “We got all this flack for hype, because Keith played with me. He can play with us any fuckin’ time he wants. It’s an honor to have Keith Richards play with us. It wasn’t any hype at all. Hype is what people make it. I’ve been a poet since I was 15 years old and I’ve supported myself any way I could, to write poetry. I’ve proven myself all those years that I’m not into things for what I can get out of them financially or any other way. I’ve always stuck by poetry and I always will. And there’s no money in that. And if there’s more money in rock’n’roll, and more in, say, The Basketball Diaries, because it’s doing well, then fine. But if it doesn’t happen, then I’m a poet, that’s what I do. It just seems like a natural evolution, the way it is now. And it’s really integral to my work. The way the album turned out, it doesn’t seem like something different, outside of it, that I just started to do. It seems like a natural extension and that’s what makes it so satisfying.”
In the infinite vastness of who I am with the stars circling around my head my feet paddle in the unbounded power of the blue beyond I watch as the lilac dawn is washed with gold and rose-tipped mountains soar around me and trees are brushed with the rising light I am the Sun I am the multicoloured splinter of light reflected through the prism of this plane I am the infinite vastness Of all that is One Just as You are too.
And so my week of exploration of streams of consciousness, with both words and images, comes to an end. The pictures below are created using original photos of reflected glass. As for what next week will bring... your guess is as good as mine! Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy a wonderful, fun, relaxing and happy weekend.
Ooh, oooh, ooooh!!! I’ve been awarded a Roar For Powerful Words by the incomparable Debi Alper. Rooooooaaaaaaar! I take this as a great honour coming as it does from a writer and author of very powerful words.
The Roar was initiated by the Irish-New Zealand fellow who lives in Lyon (how’s that for cosmopolitan!), hangs out at Shameless Words and who hosts the Shameless Lions Writing Circle.
Shameless has said:
I've launched a new project over at The Shameless Lions Writing Circle that aims to celebrate good and powerful writing in the blogosphere. The idea is for recipients of this award to also choose five blogsters they would like to honour. Despite what some say in the mainstream media, there is some fantastic writing to be found on many blogs!
Those people I've given this award to are encouraged to post it on their own blogs; list three things they believe are necessary for good, powerful writing; and then pass the award on to the five blogs they want to honour, who in turn pass it on to five others, etc etc. Let's send a roar through the blogosphere!
The Roar Award image may be collected here. Your choice of three colours!
So, here are three things (I could, of course, list more...) I consider necessary for good, powerful writing – and I do think they are interlinked.
1. Passion – when you write with passion, when you let go and let the creativity surge through you, you cannot help but to create words of power and integrity.
2. Trust in the Muse – again, this is about letting go – of preconceived notions, of the inner critic - and of trusting to the greater creative energy that is bigger than you but which works through you enabling you to create beauty, magic, poignancy, wit, love, other worlds and other states of being. When you trust in the muse you are able to write beyond convention, with innovation, without fear and you allow yourself to go where the creative energy leads you. The best ride of them all.
3. Truth – write what you know about. When you write about the things you know about, experiences you have had, when you are willing to share your wisdom and your being with the world, then the words which flow from you are words of truth and there is nothing more powerful that individual truths. They may not be the Absolute Truth, but what you write is given weight, credibility and integrity because you, the writer, know, feel and truly understand those words - and because you do, you make them real for others - your readers.
Now, in time-honoured tradition, I must pass this award along. So I duly award a Roar to (and in no particular order):
Addy, at Wilf's World - Addy has created a character and world which is based on her love of story, her profound understanding of character and the mind and langauge of children - and it is one huge and delightful romp. Little boys, it seems, get to have plenty of adventures!
Alaleh at Abir O Moshk - I have yet to encounter, in blogosphere, a writer who writes more simply and powerfully than Alaleh. Go and discover her. See for yourself. This is genius at work. Hey, what can I say, I'm a fan.
Vesper at Chick with a Quill - Vesper writes with passion, with beauty, with heartfelt feeling and with boundless imagination. Her words are filled with consideration for her subject and her audience and you just know when you read her words that she trusts to her muse.
Baino at Baino's Banter - Baino writes with passion, with truth, with humour - and is unafraid to speak her mind. I know Baino doesn't consider herself a real writer, but I know she hopes one day to write that hidden novel. She will do it really well when she does. She may not think she is a real writer. I know she is.
Reya at The Gold Puppy - I've not been visiting Reya's blog for long but there is a simple honesty, humour, wisdom and integrity in Reya's words that draws me back to her blog time and time again.
Let us send Blogosphere a huge ROOOOOOOOOAAAAAR!!!
And now, today's short stream of consciousnesss...
Stream of Consciousness VI
Languid river meanders drifts in silent ebbs and flows Blue dragon darts and flies dips, skims on iridescent wings And there the breeze rises.
I'd like to take the opportunity to direct you to two blog posts that have really touched me today - I urge you to take a look at Hand in Hand at Alaleh's blog and Sometimes I'm Serious at Baino's blog. See the highs and the lows of humanity and wonder at that which we are.
And now we interrupt our normal programming to bring you this newsflash!
Scenes captured yesterday in Ms Vanilla's backyard.... Squirrel bath-time! It would appear that aside from the hatching of guinea fowl chicks, the squirrels too have been broody...
"Hello, Mom, whatcha doin'?"
"Hmm, well while you're here Andy, I think it's time for a wash. Now just hold still, will you!"
"Gee, Mom, why don't I wash you instead!"
"Look, I can give you a hand with your arm." Mom thinks to herself, "Hmmm, why is bath time always such a trial?"
"Just you hold still, Andy." "Aw, Mo-om..."
"Stop squirming, Andy!"
"Look, Mom, here's Candy..."
"Right, then bath time for both of you!"
"Will you two quit mucking about, one of you will fall out of the tree if you don't stop all this nonsense. Keep still!"
"Ha, I tell you what, Mom, I'll wash you while you wash, Candy."
"Oh anything for a quiet life... I must remember not to do this next spring!"
So, I continue my journey of playing and seeing what arises... Some of you have asked what music I was listening to when I wrote the words. It was Reiki Gold by Llewellyn (available on Amazon) - music used for healing, soothing and meditation, very New Age stuff but I find it deeply relaxing. I thought I'd toss in two "pomes" today since they both seem to have a nature feel. I make no excuses for the quality of the writing, the words are unedited, simply written down as they swam up, no inner critic, no trying, just being and letting be. Same with the images - just playing and having fun, not trying to create anything. I always think play - unfettered, light-hearted, unselfconscious - is the best means of nurturing creativity. As for the pictures, the first one comes from a close up shot of autumn leaves and berries. The second is a collage formed from various of my close up flower shots. You'll notice as the week progresses a preference for circles and bubbles...
Stream of Consciousness II
River flowing
over Pan’s pipes
reeds rustle
to reveal
cherub’s wings
Summer haze spreads
in golden waves
all is abundance
Stream of Consciousness III
Rippling stars
twinkle on water
Blue butterfly soars
through heaven’s arches
Petals whisper
to dewdrop gems
Angels smile
and sing
Chorus rises
surrounding
Light
And now, on a completely different note, I need to direct you here... To the blog of the Sisterhood of the Pointy Heels. I have no idea how it happened, I'm not even sure if I follow it but evidently I am Commander in Chief of the Sisters of the Pointy Hats (this is just what chance remarks will result in) and as such, have earned myself a place at the Round Table of the Greater Sisterhood. You are thusly requested, by the CnC of the Sisters of the Pointy Heels to "add your valued comments to the proceedings". As I understand it, something of a battle is ensuing between the Sisters and The Knight of the Besmirched Countenance (well, you know just how mucky men can be). I confess that it is largely all beyond me but I nevertheless, as ordered by the CnC of the Sisterhood, point you in the direction of all things, well, pointy. The story appears to start here and, more particularly, here. Just don't come back and ask for explanations from me if you happen to be confused.
I thought I'd try something a little different this week - stream of consciousness "poetry" inspired by music I've been listening to and some of my photos "tweaked" in the "digital darkroom". You'll have seen some of the images in original format on the blog already, others are tucked away in my Flickr account. Each "pome" is simply called Stream of Consciousness I, II or III etc. The body may ail but the mind, imagination and spirit continue to soar.
Last week I promised I'd try to get some whale shots... They're not brilliant and now the shopping list has been lengthened to include a powerful zoom lens...
Each year, from June to November, the southern right whale comes to our shores. In the protected bays along the southern coast hundreds of whales mate and calve. Given the amount of splashing, bellowing and heavy breathing that was going on when I took these shots I think we can take a pretty educated guess that there was some rumpy pumpy taking place..
Significant Other has always said I call the whales and this time I believed him. We have never seen the whales come this close to the rocky shoreline before.
What I find so utterly tragic is that people are willing to hunt these magnificent animals - invariably using grenade-tipped harpoons which explode inside the animals. Increasingly the ban on whale hunting, which has been in force for 20 years, is coming under pressure with 33 nations supporting whale hunting and only 32 against it. However, in June this year the International Whaling Commission upheld an indefinite moratorium on commercial whaling by IWC members that had been in effect since 1986. Despite this, the decision will have no practical effect on the whale hunting now conducted by Japan, Norway, Iceland, and certain other countries. For more information on this, please see here and, for an excellent article on the subject of whale hunting go here.
I reach out
and you touch me
with my heart in yours
I call
and you answer me
with your soul
this is whale speak
and I know
Song of joy
my heart to yours
as you play
rolling in the waves
To listen to the sounds of whales, go here, and to read more about the southern right whale, go here.
Continuing the Phoktober theme... This series of shots was taken a while back when I was playing with light reflected through coloured glass objects onto a white surface. What I've done here is to take the reflected section from each shot without any sign of the real object of the reflection.
What we see is not What we don't see may well be Things are seldom what they seem
Look beyond Between the glimmers of light The magic resides within
Now see if you can work out which shot above came from which shot below!
Reflections in light time and space
cease to be
:-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-)
And the good and fun news of the day is that lovely Bonnie over at Words from a Wordsmith has given me a "You make me smile, award"! Thank you, Bonnie! Your words make me smile too!
Made by Susan of Patchwork Reflections, she said, "Comments make me smile! So all of you who were nice enough to comment here are officially presented with the 'you make me smile' award! Congratulations!" On her blog she added this verse:
Smiling is infectious, U can catch it like the flu. Someone smiled at me today, And I started smiling too, Now I am passing it on to you!
So now I'm passing on the smile award to:
Verilion who's as daft as a brush - you have to know her to know... Vesper - who is a kindred spirit and brings a smile to my heart. John - who ends every comment with a smile which you know is heartfelt. Baino - who has a wicked sense of humour and Kyklops - who had me in stitches with his comment on my mushroom post!
You know what I hate about these awards - you're only supposed to be able to pass them on to five people - I think that's so unfair - I want to give awards to all of you - especially this one, because in some way, each of you brings a smile to my face! So go on, consider yourself awarded and SMILE!
