That’s the end of “P.”
The first Pulp tune I have is “Common People,” which I know from the less breathy, less English William Shatner version, which I in a way prefer for its theatrical over-the-top nature.
I finished listening to Processor the same minute I closed Tad Williams’s River of Blue Fire, book 2 of the Otherland series. Processor was a diversion, entertaining, but not overly catchy. Before that I had Prince, specifically Purple Rain (double P, eh?), and before that really good stuff: Primus and Portishead. And before that Poison Idea.
First: Poison Idea. I have the album Pajama Party, which is mostly if not entirely covers, and to be honest, it’s not that great. You can recognize the original songs, but there is no heart there, nothing distinctive except a metalish-mannerism. The vocals stink and are at times difficult to separate from the background noise that is the “music.” I probably got it from Tim or Tom from the LUG a few years ago.
Second: Portishead. I first heard Portishead in college, senior year I guess, and I remember listening to a song or two with Leena late at night second semester when we were stressing about writing our theses. Portishead is self-conscious seduction music in a way, it’s something to listen to with a glass a red wine in one hand and your other hand around the waist of the person you’re dancing with.
Third: Primus. Back in June of 1993, right before that summer’s heat wave, I found myself in Rhode Island for the the 1st World Scholar Athlete Games, and my roommate, whose name I’ve forgotten, was a Primus fan. The guy was short and nerdy, not particularly athletic, but I don’t think he was there for the choir, creative writing, or sailing, so perhaps tennis. He told me I should listen to Primus for its bass player, whom he compared favorably to the one from Rush, a band I knew more by name than by reputation or songs. It’s hard not to enjoy Primus performing “Nativity in Black” with Ozzie, and “Wynona’s Big Brown Beaver” is an obnoxious but catchy (and obnoxiously catchy) song.
Anyway, back to the Tad Williams. Great series so far, and the ending of book two brings in The Odyssey, though it had been hinted at earlier with references to Priam and Troy. But when a main character shows up as Odysseus on the last pages and another recurring but likely non-human character calls herself his wife you know things are moving into high gear. This should come as no surprise in a sense, since myth was made explicit and explicated on several occasions, particularly with reference to dreams and “The Dreaming” (not to be confused with Neil Gaiman’s construction in the pages of his Sandman series), and there was a mythos-logos division made, yet the two are being intertwined, since the “Otherland” construction, as a version or extension of “The Net” is a result of logos, of logic and programming, yet we keep finding mythos popping back up, so Homer, and other massively important works of (mostly Western) fiction, being turned into the basis for the playing and replaying of simulations should not be surprising.
Now: Pulp’s “Disco 2000” … which borrows music from the old 80s hit “Gloria.”
But what is not surprising but at least a strange coincidence for me is the content-connection to Dan Simmon’s Ilium/Olympos cycle, though there it’s not about computer-internal “simulations” — yet the recourse to literature/myth and the replaying of myth-as-fact (as part of or in a bid for immortality) is an uncanny resemblance. I’m tempted to open book 3 tonight; I’m also tempted to shelve it and pull out the Dan Simmons volume … I have it a few feet away in a bag.
Now: Pulp’s “I Spy,” which seems like a musically darker version of the Pet Shop Boys’s “It’s a Sin.” It’s a great song.
I walked this afternoon into town with Jen, who was meeting Christoph at the Historical Society for two movies. I just went to Fair Trade and had an iced coffee. I chatted with the Doctor Who viewing barista, and as always I bemoan the fact that “extended adjectival modifiers” are not really at home in English. I love using, abusing, and misusing them. I looked up some “bee” poems after my noon/brunch Sunday writing with Richard, Helen, and others.
An die Bienen
Wollt ihr wissen, holde Bienen,
Die ihr süße Beute liebt,
Wo es mehr, als hier im Grünen,
Honigreiche Blumen gibt?
Statt die tausend auszunippen,
Die euch Florens Milde beut,
Saugt aus Amaryllis’ Lippen
Aller tausend Süßigkeit.Florens schöne Kinder rötet
Nur der Frühlingssonne Licht;
Amaryllis’ Blumen tötet
Auch der strenge Winter nicht.
Kurze Labung nur gewähret,
Was die Tochter Florens beut;
Aber kein Genuß verzehret Amaryllis’ Süßigkeit.Eins, nur eins sei euch geklaget!
Eh ihr auf dies Purpurrot
Eure seidnen Flügel waget,
Hört, ihr Lieben, was euch droht!
Ach, ein heißer Kuß hat neulich
Die Gefahr mir kund gemacht.
Nehmt die Flügel,
warn’ ich treulich,
Ja vor dieser Glut in acht!Gottfried August Bürger (1747-1794)
I want a good translation of Hofmannsthal’s “Ballade des äußeren Lebens” — I reread it today, “got” it for the first time, I felt, and realized that it’s the type of thing one must share.
