Illustrations: Briana Miller
Those poems are on line at http://www.inter-zone.org/richardkrech1.html
Plus IBM cut up at http://www.inter-zone.org/ibmcutup.html
mercredi 23 juin 2010
mardi 22 juin 2010
lundi 21 juin 2010
“Te bouffe pas la tête” de Charles Plymell- Compte rendu de Paul Hawkins, traduction Jean-Marie Flémal
Traduction: Jean-Marie Flémal.
Te bouffe pas la tête est une œuvre d’art. Avec un collage de Claude Pélieu sur la première de couverture et un avant-propos de l’ami et bassiste Mike Watt. Ce recueil propose vingt-neuf poèmes contemporains du poète hors la loi qu’est Charles Plymell. C’est avec beaucoup d’amour et de soin que Byron Coley et Thurston Moore, les responsables de la collection Glasse Eye Books / Ecstatic Peace Library, ont produit ce bel objet. Et il ne s’agit que de l’emballage ! Charley Plymell est considéré à juste titre comme l’un des meilleurs poètes de l’underground littéraire américain. Il a vu beaucoup de choses depuis sa naissance en 1935 dans les hautes plaines du Kansas et depuis ses premiers souvenirs du bruit du vent dans la cabine d’un camion Reo Speedwagon. Son père était cow-boy, sa mère fut entre autres cascadeuse au volant. Charley s’empressa de quitter le Kansas en compagnie de gars comme Bob Branaman, S. Clay Wilson, Michael McClure, Bruce Connor et les punks de Wichita filant à tout berzingue à travers le Vortex, le fameux tourbillon, hurlant et rugissant tous azimuts, nord, sud, est et ouest.
Chemin faisant, Plymell et les punks de Wichita tâteront du speed, laisseront tomber le LSD, organiseront des rituels à la mescaline et feront des tas d’expériences dans le domaine de l’art et des autres formes de création des années cinquante. Tous étaient des dévoreurs de tarmac. Charley avait déjà derrière lui deux volumes de poèmes, Neon Poems et Apocalypse Rose quand, en 1971, City Lights publia son truculent roman, Le dernier des Mocassins. Ce roman agrippe, miroite et scintille, avec son style de prose hobohémien ; il débobine les faits marquants de sa vie à Wichita et environs, ses allers et retours entre la côte ouest et le Kansas, le long de la route 66, l’autoroute de la benzédrine, et bien au-delà encore, ses folles années hip et la vie de bâton de chaise de sa sœur aînée Betty. Ses mots se sont mués en étincelles d’énergie, en sparring-partners du cerveau. Le lexème de Te bouffe pas la tête resplendit de façon incandescente dans la sombre conscience du 21e siècle, devenant ainsi le lubrifiant avec lequel les délirants nuages spirituels se mettent en mouvement pour révéler un engagement dans la vie dénué de la moindre hésitation, mais toujours vibrant et astucieux.
D’emblée, les mots de Charley sont capiteux, charmeurs et descriptifs jusqu’à l’intoxication. Ses années hip se sont confondues avec sa période psychédélique avant qu’il enfonce le frein à main à San Francisco. Charley a vécu avec Ginsberg et Neal Cassady, il a imprimé le tout premier Zap Comix de Robert Crumb, puis il a écrit, écrit et écrit tant et plus. Après avoir brûlé le tarmac et vu clair dans le jeu de la Beats Inc., Charley panse ses plaies et monte sur Cherry Valley. Il y va d’une sévère diatribe contre le Fonds national des Arts et son analyse pénétrante et mûrement réfléchie est reprise dans le New York Times et d’autres journaux et publications. Avec sa femme Pam, il lance Cherry Valley Editions, publiant ainsi Herbert Huncke, William Burroughs, Roxie Powell, Claude Pélieu, Mary Beach, pour n’en citer que quelques-uns. Quoi qu’il en soit, Charley est et restera à jamais un poète. Et quel poète ! Sachant à tout moment où recouper les traces en provenance d’un âge lointain, dans Te bouffe pas la tête, Charley envoie des pulsions d’énergie qui prennent leur plein envol autour du cerveau du lecteur, à qui il fait partager la naissance d’une nouvelle conception de la folie actuelle, un autre champ d’interrogation, le souffle d’un vent de fraîcheur pour l’esprit et le cœur dont il faut s’emplir à fond avant de prendre son envol. Te bouffe pas la tête, de Charley Plymell, est une œuvre suprême.
Charles Plymell : Te bouffe pas la tête
Glass Eye Books / Ecstatic Peace Library
374 exemplaires destinés à la vente et 26 numérotés et signés par Charles Plymell
http://yod.com/yodstuff/product_info.php?products_id=6469Voir également l’interview de Charles Plymell par Paul Hawkins : “Charles Plymell : The Benzedrine Highway Interview” dans le blog de Ginger Eades à Even for the Hipsters, Hustlers & Highjivers http://hipstershustlersandhighjivers.blogspot.com/
dimanche 20 juin 2010
Interzone galleries: photos of William Burroughs
Two new galleries with pictures of William Burroughs:
- William S. Burroughs by Ginger EADES : page 1 , page 2
- Willliam S. Burroughs by Isabelle Aubert-Baudron & Baud
- William S. Burroughs by Ginger EADES : page 1 , page 2
- Willliam S. Burroughs by Isabelle Aubert-Baudron & Baud
Optical sound: june newsletter
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JG THIRLWELL & FRED BIGOT : "Hydroze Plus" (OS.045)~10" LP
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Hydroze Plus (OS.045) JG Thirlwell (Foetus) and Fred Bigot (Electronicat) 10" LP Clear Vinyl + 4 colors Silkscreen on transparent + Offset R/V Print All in Clear Hard PVC Plasticbag
Definitively a rare and unique release !
Buy here 10 euros + Postage
Face A 1. Overcoat (4'18) 2. Belladonna (5'36) (CalmCalm remix by Fred Bigot)
Face B 3. Epi-Dose (4'45) (Overcoat remix by JG Thirlwell) 4. CalmCalm (4'18)
Hydroze Plus is Fred Bigot : instruments & music / JG Thirlwell : vocals & lyrics Composed by Fred Bigot (GEMA) and JG Thirlwell (Ectopic Music) Recorded at Nolite Studio, Berlin, 2005-2009 with additional recording at Self Immolation Studios, Brooklyn. Sleeve designed by JG Thirlwell Mastered by Norscq Merci à Jeff Fisher, Catriona Shaw, Can Oral, Laura Lindgren, Ken Swezey, Heung-Heung Chin.
http://www.foetus.org/
http://www.electronicat.com/
www.optical-sound.com Produced by Hydroze Plus OS-045, 2010
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NOW ! PIERRE BELOÜIN : "Playing You (Nothing Inside is Real)"
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GALERIE FREDERIC GIROUX (Paris)
Dernier jour ce Samedi 19 JUIN 2010 ! ~ de 18H00 à 21H00
La vitrine par OLIVIER HUZ & ARIANE BOSSHARD
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SOON ! COLLECTIVE SHOW : "Previously on Optical Sound..."
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GALERIE FREDERIC GIROUX (Paris)
Vernissage le 3 JUILLET 2010~ de 18H00 à 21H00
La vitrine par EDDIE LADOIRE
Commissariat Pierre Beloüin, Olivier Huz et P.Nicolas Ledoux, + GUESTS, Ototoï, Black Sifichi, and :
J.G. Thirlwell, Barbara Breitenfellner, Rebecca Bournigault, Pascal Broccolichi, Pierre-Laurent Cassière, Jérôme Poret, Sophie Sommerlatt, Marjolaine Bourdua, Cathryn Boch, Emeline Girault , Cendrillon Bélanger, Philippe Perreaudin, Claire Moreux, Lydie Jean Dit Pannel, Serge Comte, Loïg R, Goran Vejvoda, Ian Simms, Emmanuel Lagarrigue, Nicolas Simonin,Jill Gasparina, Frederic Nogray, Frédéric Post, Alain Declercq, Stéphane Sautour, Claude Lévêque, Rainier Lericolais, Christian Vialard, Guillaume Ollendorf, Simon Fisher Turner, Isabella Turner, Sébastien Roux, Eddie Ladoire, Lionel Marchetti, Black Sifichi, Norscq, Cocoon aka Christophe Demarthe, Stéphane Thidet, David Michael Clarke, Anabelle Hulaut, Philippe Lepeut, Christophe Bailleau, Olivia Louvel, Thierry Weyd, Samuel Ruchot, Julien Sirjacq, Cécile Babiole, Gilles Berquet, Mirka Lugosi, Mathias Delplanque, Alia Daval, Dorota Kleszcz , François Ronsiaux,Wild Shores, Hervé TTrioreau, Laurent Faulon, Davide Bertocchi, Alex andre Bianchini, Dominique Blais, Vincent Epplay, Gérôme Nox, Scanner…
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dimanche 13 juin 2010
stéphane mandelbaum - galerie didier devillez
la Galerie Didier Devillez a le plaisir de vous proposer une nouvelle oeuvre de
Stéphane Mandelbaum
Autoportrait, stylo à bille sur papier, 50 x 70 cm, 1980
GALERIE DIDIER DEVILLEZ53, rue Emmanuel Van Driessche • 1050 Bruxelles (Belgique) • +32(0)475 931 935devillez@skynet.be • http://www.galeriedidierdevillez.be
Review of POEMS OF MADNESS & ANGEL By Ray Bremser
(Ray Bremser, Charles Plymell and Grant Hart in front of Allen Ginsberg's farmhouse at the Committee on Poetry, Cherry Valley, NY, August 1998.
Photo by Betsy Kirschbaum. © 1998 Water Row Books.)
Review of POEMS OF MADNESS & ANGEL By Ray Bremser. Published by Water Row Press Sudbury, Mass.
The Back Beat of Bremser. — Charles Plymell ( From postcript of the book)
Post War America grooved on the big band era. (Krupa was no slouch). The golden age of sound was hitting every major city. Charley Parker practiced his sax in a shack across the tracks in Kansas City. The great sub-culture was growing from hep to hip to bebop tossing seeds to hip hop. The great Lord Buckley laid down the word riff when scat was pre-natal rap. Jazz heads and Benzedrine made the scene while ageless rounders, pimps, whores, ex-cons, street-wise youth and creative kids ventured toward the iconic “angry fix” and things illegal. Ray Bremser was already a member of that bohemian sub-culture. His Hoboken nose broken profile and Jersey flat land rasp was the perfect voice and look for Hollywood casting. He was proud of his presence.
Naturally, he uses the vernacular of the time to begin a philosophical soliloquy, “So let me lay it to you gently, Mr. Gone!” And, continues sarcastically, in his poetic brilliance, to explore his humanity, his history; and ends with, “It is a little / let us say, too much, man too much!” The language here needs to be appreciated in it own flavor, its own freshness, to savor its import and save it from cliché. In that setting, the familiar jive is literary ... yes, Shakespearean. It would probably take an actor now to restore the familiar charm and sound of a Bremser or a Huncke in their day. To etymologize further… the words and jazz in the culture of that time. When Huncke hitchhiked into town and repeated a common refrain: ”Man I’m beat,” it was quickly picked up by alert middle-class students of the avant-guard to define a generation of poets and writers. When people talk of the veracity and authenticity of figures like Ray Bremser and Herbert Huncke in the Beat Generation, I think of them as having been entrenched in a rudimentary sub-culture from which whole generations could derive and be named.
In this respect, I think Bremser adopted the beat influence and lifestyle as a later and much welcomed shelter from the street to which he could contribute his provenance. It is obvious in his Poems of Madness that he spent a great deal of scholarly time alone with the poetry of Hart Crane, Pound, and Shakespeare. He doesn’t try to disguise them as his own, but writes as an equal with a healthy influence one can detect; for instance, from the surreal inspiration of Hart Crane:
For I have strung up streamers
and inhaled a wild unpatriotic rebel attitude
of position out of the air where life begins/
confetti and cascades of violent pure-bred hair!
If Shakespeare were to appear, he would thoroughly enjoy the figure here, as would Chaucer. The image/idiom is timeless as well as the philosophical inquiry:
Shit up a rope, for all I care,
But watch how
sometimes, when the horizontal dreams
of a little life gone hither come to bear
dualities of weight over the head.
Bremser can uncannily tweak the prosody and myth a bit to go from Pound to perfect pitch:
saw Anubis & terror
saw motion of witchery there,
saw bone of filthy embalmer
saw seven league boots on the feet of those birds
more soarey than Bela Lugosi
And if the academic mainstream non-poets of numb nuts and nothingness don’t like it, he leaves them with something less absurd:
take your museums, marijuana!!!
stick them in high & go haywire....
--Charles Plymell
*Ray Bremser (February 22, 1934 – 1998) was an American poet.
Bremser was born in Jersey City, New Jersey. When he was 17 he went AWOL from the United States Air Force and was briefly imprisoned. The next year he was sent to Bordenstown Reformatory for 6 years for armed robbery. He began writing poetry there and sent copies to Allen Ginsberg, Gregory Corso and LeRoi Jones who published his poems in "Yugen" and threw a big party for him when he got out of jail in 1958.
He had five books of his poetry published and featured in a film, The Beat Generation: An American Dream (1987) IMDb.
He died in 1998 of lung cancer.
As part of the Beat Generation, Bremser was strongly influenced and mentored by Allen Ginsberg and Gregory Corso, as he illustrates with his catchy language and rhythmic motion in Poems of Madness."
He was the best reader of his own work I ever heard and taught me much more than the Iowa Writers Workshop. I let him sleep on our couch when he was temporarily homeless, but this upset my wife as he didn't bathe. He had no teeth and said he could eat everything but a peanut. He didn't drive. When I put on Soft Machine 6, he hated it. He preferred Be-Bop and claimed McCoy Tyner would "play" his poems on the piano. Will Schmitz
(Ray Bremser, Charles Plymell and Grant Hart in front of Allen Ginsberg's farmhouse at the Committee on Poetry, Cherry Valley, NY, August 1998.
Photo by Betsy Kirschbaum. © 1998 Water Row Books.)
Review of POEMS OF MADNESS & ANGEL By Ray Bremser. Published by Water Row Press Sudbury, Mass.
The Back Beat of Bremser. — Charles Plymell ( From postcript of the book)
Post War America grooved on the big band era. (Krupa was no slouch). The golden age of sound was hitting every major city. Charley Parker practiced his sax in a shack across the tracks in Kansas City. The great sub-culture was growing from hep to hip to bebop tossing seeds to hip hop. The great Lord Buckley laid down the word riff when scat was pre-natal rap. Jazz heads and Benzedrine made the scene while ageless rounders, pimps, whores, ex-cons, street-wise youth and creative kids ventured toward the iconic “angry fix” and things illegal. Ray Bremser was already a member of that bohemian sub-culture. His Hoboken nose broken profile and Jersey flat land rasp was the perfect voice and look for Hollywood casting. He was proud of his presence.
Naturally, he uses the vernacular of the time to begin a philosophical soliloquy, “So let me lay it to you gently, Mr. Gone!” And, continues sarcastically, in his poetic brilliance, to explore his humanity, his history; and ends with, “It is a little / let us say, too much, man too much!” The language here needs to be appreciated in it own flavor, its own freshness, to savor its import and save it from cliché. In that setting, the familiar jive is literary ... yes, Shakespearean. It would probably take an actor now to restore the familiar charm and sound of a Bremser or a Huncke in their day. To etymologize further… the words and jazz in the culture of that time. When Huncke hitchhiked into town and repeated a common refrain: ”Man I’m beat,” it was quickly picked up by alert middle-class students of the avant-guard to define a generation of poets and writers. When people talk of the veracity and authenticity of figures like Ray Bremser and Herbert Huncke in the Beat Generation, I think of them as having been entrenched in a rudimentary sub-culture from which whole generations could derive and be named.
In this respect, I think Bremser adopted the beat influence and lifestyle as a later and much welcomed shelter from the street to which he could contribute his provenance. It is obvious in his Poems of Madness that he spent a great deal of scholarly time alone with the poetry of Hart Crane, Pound, and Shakespeare. He doesn’t try to disguise them as his own, but writes as an equal with a healthy influence one can detect; for instance, from the surreal inspiration of Hart Crane:
For I have strung up streamers
and inhaled a wild unpatriotic rebel attitude
of position out of the air where life begins/
confetti and cascades of violent pure-bred hair!
If Shakespeare were to appear, he would thoroughly enjoy the figure here, as would Chaucer. The image/idiom is timeless as well as the philosophical inquiry:
Shit up a rope, for all I care,
But watch how
sometimes, when the horizontal dreams
of a little life gone hither come to bear
dualities of weight over the head.
Bremser can uncannily tweak the prosody and myth a bit to go from Pound to perfect pitch:
saw Anubis & terror
saw motion of witchery there,
saw bone of filthy embalmer
saw seven league boots on the feet of those birds
more soarey than Bela Lugosi
And if the academic mainstream non-poets of numb nuts and nothingness don’t like it, he leaves them with something less absurd:
take your museums, marijuana!!!
stick them in high & go haywire....
--Charles Plymell
*Ray Bremser (February 22, 1934 – 1998) was an American poet.
Bremser was born in Jersey City, New Jersey. When he was 17 he went AWOL from the United States Air Force and was briefly imprisoned. The next year he was sent to Bordenstown Reformatory for 6 years for armed robbery. He began writing poetry there and sent copies to Allen Ginsberg, Gregory Corso and LeRoi Jones who published his poems in "Yugen" and threw a big party for him when he got out of jail in 1958.
He had five books of his poetry published and featured in a film, The Beat Generation: An American Dream (1987) IMDb.
He died in 1998 of lung cancer.
As part of the Beat Generation, Bremser was strongly influenced and mentored by Allen Ginsberg and Gregory Corso, as he illustrates with his catchy language and rhythmic motion in Poems of Madness."
He was the best reader of his own work I ever heard and taught me much more than the Iowa Writers Workshop. I let him sleep on our couch when he was temporarily homeless, but this upset my wife as he didn't bathe. He had no teeth and said he could eat everything but a peanut. He didn't drive. When I put on Soft Machine 6, he hated it. He preferred Be-Bop and claimed McCoy Tyner would "play" his poems on the piano. Will Schmitz
Christian bourgois: Jim Morrison sur les écrans et dans le texte
Chers amis,
Tandis que sort demain sur les écrans le documentaire "When you're strange", que Tom DiCillo a consacré au groupe The Doors, n'oubliez pas d'approfondir votre découverte ou redécouverte de l'univers de Jim Morrison par la lecture de ses écrits, de nouveau disponibles au format de poche dans la collection Titres: "Wilderness" et "La nuit américaine", traduits par Patricia Devaux. Car Jim Morrison n'était pas uniquement le leader de ce groupe mythique. Grand lecteur de romans et de poésie, il a lui-même beaucoup écrit.
Tous les détails concernant ses publications sont disponibles sur le site des éditions Bourgois auquel vous pouvez accéder en cliquant sur le lien suivant:
http://www.christianbourgois-editeur.com/titres.php?page=2Α=M
Bonne lecture à tous
Tandis que sort demain sur les écrans le documentaire "When you're strange", que Tom DiCillo a consacré au groupe The Doors, n'oubliez pas d'approfondir votre découverte ou redécouverte de l'univers de Jim Morrison par la lecture de ses écrits, de nouveau disponibles au format de poche dans la collection Titres: "Wilderness" et "La nuit américaine", traduits par Patricia Devaux. Car Jim Morrison n'était pas uniquement le leader de ce groupe mythique. Grand lecteur de romans et de poésie, il a lui-même beaucoup écrit.
Tous les détails concernant ses publications sont disponibles sur le site des éditions Bourgois auquel vous pouvez accéder en cliquant sur le lien suivant:
http://www.christianbourgois-editeur.com/titres.php?page=2Α=M
Bonne lecture à tous
Northside article for "Eat Not Thy Mind"
In his own time: Charles Plymell talks about his new volume of poetry,
‘Eat Not Thy Mind’
By Sharon Anderson
http://www.northsidesf.com/june10/ae_inhisowntime.html
‘Eat Not Thy Mind’
By Sharon Anderson
http://www.northsidesf.com/june10/ae_inhisowntime.html
samedi 12 juin 2010
Autour de Claude Pelieu "Je suis un cut-up vivant"
Le livre "La Crevaille" n'est plus offert aux acheteurs du collectif, car le tirage limité était réservé aux personnes qui avaient souscrit avant la parution.
jeudi 10 juin 2010
mercredi 9 juin 2010
mardi 8 juin 2010
dimanche 6 juin 2010
On Indra Tamang : Rags to riche$
In the Berkshire Eagle :
Indra Tamang is photographing Charles Henri Ford on his 90th birthday at party that Grant Hart took.
Charles Henri ford and Gerard Malanga
Grant Hart and Pam Plymell
See also Yony's Picasa Web Album
Mike Watt and the Missingmen
The may 30, 2010 edition of the watt from pedro show w/guest peak live from bangkok, thailand up for another three days at: http://twfps.com/
last gig with the missingmen until autumn!
saturday, june 5 at 9:30 pm at the smell http://www.thesmell.org/ 247 s. main st. (enter in back) los angeles, ca (213) 625-4325
last gig with the missingmen until autumn!
saturday, june 5 at 9:30 pm at the smell http://www.thesmell.org/ 247 s. main st. (enter in back) los angeles, ca (213) 625-4325
Joe Boon, Mike Watt and Nels Cline
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