tENTATIVELY, a cONVENIENCE performs my Melody Poems

What is the better way to celebrate one's birthday than performing one's work? tENTATIVELY, a cONVENIENCE did just that with my Melody Poems. I'm very thankful for that. It is a great honor.

If you want to check the original text - it was featured in The Otolith back in Issue 56. Here's the link https://the-otolith.blogspot.com/2019/12/volodymyr-bilyk.html

Here's what tENTATIVELY, a cONVENIENCE says about the thing: "When I got to Volodymyr Bilyk's "Melody Poems" I thought it would be fun to play the pieces on the piano & to link to a movie of this as a part of the finished review. Since the "Melody Poems" basically just list note names without specifying octave or rhythm, etc, I decided that it would be fun to play them in ways that most people would find 'unmelodic'. This is the result. As you will no doubt notice, I also tweaked it a bit further. I made entirely too many mistakes & took some liberties so the result is probably a bit far off from Bilyk's imagining of the melodies but, hey!, I still went to the trouble of actually approaching the "Melody Poems" as a score. "

That time i pitched a novel and things got real for a bit

A couple of years ago, I had a chance to pitch a novel to the publisher despite not being interested in doing prose or writing novels or anything like that. I just had a conversation with the publisher, and it was fun enough that I was asked to pitch something "if you feel that way" - it was basically a bet. 

And I did, and it kind of worked for some time, and I did some preps before it all fell apart. Why did it fell apart? Money, the publisher got into hot water for taxes, and you know where it goes. I can't tell you more.

My original pitch went like this:

An affair puts brothers on the collision course, but this affair is more than meets the eye: deception, kayfabe, oneupmanship, horse marine. Unreliable narrative retold by unreliable narrator fully aware of preset suspicion - layers upon layers of the story turn into a noose that chokes the truth out of them all. 

You can't come up with anything more generic. I guess it was way too flowery for its own good, but I didn't really give a damn about it. I intended to go blatantly purple, all guns blazing. So purple Deep Purple would sue me for infringement. I thought it was a joke, so I made a joke out of it.

Two days later, I get a reply: "Ok. I want to read an expanded synopsis. Who are the characters, where the story goes? Can you do it?"

I was baffled, even stupified. It was a joke, and now the joke got its stakes raised. Challenge accepted. 

I was asked to write an expanded synopsis. Seems logical if you actually mean to sell a novel, but I had no idea what to it is about. The whole "can you write an expanded synopsis" made me really perplexed. At the same time, it was curious to figure out the way out of this mess. How to follow up a throwaway freestyle something-something? How to spin anything coherent out of it? 

One solution is to flesh out the available material. It seems like a logical approach, except what I had was so generic, I couldn't really come up with anything even remotely intriguing.  

So I kind of let it slide into oblivion. But the idea of expanding the pitch into a full story persisted. I couldn't stop thinking about it; I was trying to figure out what it would be like. 

Then I was talking with one of the colleagues about the tribulations of story construction, and it all came together. I had a story laid down in front of my eyes as if it actually happened. So I've spent an evening and a half sketching it out.

Here's what I came up with.

The novel tells the story of a writer and his brother. The writer is trying to get out of his day job. He teaches the theory of literature at the university - it is not fun enough for him. His true passion is weird fiction detective stories. His brother is not the writer but a KGB secret cooperative overseeing various artists and public persons. In his public appearance, he is a scholar researching mythology and fairy tales. 

The brother got a wife who is teaching literature at the same university as the writer. They have on-and-off workplace romance, but it is too clumsy to be taken seriously. Nevertheless, the writer is trying to maintain the affair despite not having the endgame. His brother knows about the whole thing. Since he is bored out of his mind - he conspires with his wife to make an elaborate prank on the writer's brother.

The story goes - the writer follows the rabbit into the rabbit hole. The wife sells it hard. She even reenacts some witch-craft rituals and other mystic stuff. They have trips with shrooms and weed. And then she blows it by exposing the hoax. But the writer - who was suffering from the writer's block because he wanted to sleep with his brother's wife because she was the forbidden fruit and the driving force for his existence - so he was so inspired he started to write again and was denying the fact that he was pranked.

He is in denial, or so it seems even after "you fuck my wife" argument with his brother. even more - he was convincing them that all that weird stuff was happening for real.

Eventually, the brother and the wife decide to follow through just for the sake of the laugh. They were interested in where this weirdo would lead them. In the end, they go to the Mountain (not exactly a mountain - rather a high hill) right at the moment when some enlightening apparition might occur, and nothing happens. The writer gets disappointed and says, "fuck you all" and goes away. But those two felt so terrified they ran away even faster, forcing the writer to come back finding out something.

And then he comes back to his brother and tells the story how some fairy-demon took him into the parts unknown where he talked about poetic arts and even fished the stars - it goes like a soliloquy for some pages - and then the writers look at astounded, amazed faces of his brother and his wife and say "Nah, of course, I was fucking with you." And the novel ends.

***

It is rambling and does not make much sense. Actually, this text is a compilation of bullet-point lists that I've sent instead of a synopsis. The publisher said that it was good enough for a light novel. He noted that there was a lot of stuff to work on, but the foundation was "solid." He then added that he was not kidding. 

I was baffled. How in the blue moon could I get myself into such a mess? I've spent four years agonizing on a poetry collection - how long would it take to write a novel? And how long would it take to polish it and follow to the print? The very thought of doing it made me tremble. 

But my fears dissipated a week later when I received another, more formal letter calling off the project. There was an extended explanation that it wasn't a joke. There was some kind of legal issue that froze the publishing house for the time being. 

It ended with "good luck with finding a new home for your novel." Yeah, sure. Whatever, man. 

This pitch gathered dust for years before I was trying to find the password for one of the rare movie blogs - I stumbled into it, reread it, though it was curious enough to post it here, and that's it.

BSPH: Max Q - Max Q 1989 (Michael Hutchence / Ollie Olsen project)

Sometimes the best the artist has to offer is somewhat hidden under the surface and left mostly unnoticed in the light of the more celebrated works. That's the story of Max Q in a nutshell, a project of INXS' frontman Michael Hutchence and Whirlywind's Ollie Olsen.

But how do i got here? I have been watching recent Michael Hutchence documentary and it got me back at the time i did INXS discography guide (gotta find and post it - probably the single best piece of music writing i ever did). One of my big regrets with that piece was that i haven't mentioned about Hutchence's solo efforts like his posthumous solo album with Andy Gill and 1989' Max Q. The latter was killing me for years because i could've added a paragraph or two about it almost immediately - i've got the copy a couple of days after the piece of published and the editor already gave me a new assignment.

Now, watching Hutchence documentary, i thought it would be good to make it right ten years too late.

So. Let's start.

Max Q was a collaborative project of INXS' frontman Michael Hutchence and Whirlywind' Ollie Olson. The two met on the set of the movie Dogs in Space in 1986. Sidenote: the movie is a cultural landmark that captures the spirit of mid-80s Australian music scene in a manner of classic Wim Wenders flicks.

The story goes: Hutchence and Olsen worked on a couple of songs for the film's soundtrack (including the lead single of the soundtrack album Room for the Memory which was a big hit). The experience was good enough to decide that their artistic impulses can spark something special in a full-length album format titled after Olsen's dog because it was a cool name.

But before they could get it on, Hutchence needed to go back to INXS. He was gearing up towards his career peak with INXS' 1987 megasmash Kick, so further collaboration was put on the backburner for a couple of years. Then in 1988-89, during the band's sabbatical, Hutchence got back to the project ready to do something completely different.

In hindsight, prolonged gestation of the project was a blessing, as Hutchence and Olsen had time to solidify the vision and flesh out the songs. The resulting is something truly special. I would dare to say, that this album is actually the best thing he ever did - the artist at his most raw and daring.

The album combines then-trendy chicago house sound with pop rock songs and leftfield post-punk blue-eyed soul sensibility. In many ways, the album predates the aesthetics U2 had developed a couple of years later with Achtung Baby - similar combination of modern technology and raw emotion underpinning.

Later in the interviews, Hutchence went into detail about the creative process of the project. "It was really fast, you know, it was just enthusiasm – it was just, ‘Let’s do this, let’s do this’ – Olsen wanted to make the new Thriller and I wanted to make something a bit more left, you know? So these two strange ideas got together… With Max Q, we didn’t really know what monster we were making, you know what I mean? We were just gonna see what happened by the end. See, with INXS, it’s a little bit more worked out than that."

Aside from Olsen and Hutchence, the other important creative force on the album is Todd Terry. He added some unexpected textures to the mix and provided very creative approach to the song arrangements. The songs perfectly combine relentless grooves with steadily revolving melodies. It never get boring.

Unfortunately, the album went mostly unnoticed by the public, especially in comparison with INXS smashing success.

Nevertheless, Max Q was important project for Hutchence. It let him to explore his creative parts unknown and expand his writing skills into different styles. Among other things, the influence of Max Q is felt of latter day INXS albums, especially Full Moon Dirty Hearts, whose The Gift would not sound out of place on Max Q album.

What kind of difficulties you experience while writing poetry?

One month ago i was asked "what kind of difficulties you experience while writing poetry?". It was business-as-usual question for the festival or something. The one where one could showboat the hell out of it and rumble tumble the hobbyhorse in the bout of conspicuous perspicacity.

In all seriousness, this question makes little to no sense from a practical standpoint. In terms of gatheting bunch of stuff - yeah, but there is little to no value in this kind of information. And there is not much to write home about. It is not that interesting to explore.

In fact, it is so casual you can't even ponder - yeah, happens, so what? I don't know, maybe because stopped caring about the whole poetry thing five years ago - so i have no sentiment towards such things. Or is it because it is not really an essential knowledge. Anyway, i was asked that question and i didn't wanted to phone it in.

So i started think how to answer this question and make a point.

First, let's count down some of the difficulties that happen while writing poetry:

• No paper / pen / pencil / note-taking app / mic at hand to document something
• Rikki don't lose that number situation
• the continuous drafting eliminates what made the original nugget so special
• the piece goes nowhere with no end in sight - you kinda enjoy doing it but it is ain't gonna work out
• writing the thing down makes the whole thing seem like a waste of effort
• memory fails to capture a momentary glimpse of an astounding image
• memory distorts the expression into something ordinary
• you think too much and it stops being fun
• it worked while you were in the moment, but now when the dust is settled - it is not that good at all
• words can't express the feeling you want to verbalize
• the narrative doesn't hold after being written down
• start fright - you can't start / make the first step
• feedback fright 
• you can't find a fitting ending to the piece because you think that Accept's Princess of the Dawn's abrupt ending kinda didn't worked.
• The meter doesn't add up.
• the poetic form of choice doesn't click with the content
• Can't find the word that sounds right 
• unable to piece together series of images or narrative strands into something cohesive

The list goes on. Do we really need musings about something like this? Of course, two times. Any pretentious dude will dash out a dozen of sentences about it like it was sneezing in the cardboard box in the midst of Bela Bartok listening party for one.

So how to make it count? I don't care about this thing at all and i have nothing to say but i want to take part in it - so what do i do?

First, the reason i don't care - because it doesn't make any difference. I got into poetry because i was interested in exploring the aesthetic qualities of language and the possibilities of making it different. I wasn't really in "spilling my guts" or something. But my efforts were either with hostility or dismissal and every time i tried to fit myself into a spot - it was to zero consequence. Why would try to fit in if there is literally no use of it. You don't get opportunities, you don't make friends, you pass time. At least playing Starcraft makes you fast on your wits, passing time with poets is dancing about architecture.

I've tried to be the part of ukrainian poetic community for a decade or so and it didn't worked out over and over again. These people can't stand me and i'm fine with it, they live in their little world which is very limited and narrow-minded - good for them, i'm having my own lunar park with blackjack and hookers.

Detour is over. Back to main topic. 

I decided to take a couple of steps back and reflect on the nature of things just like any poseur would do. Except i was honest.

Here's what i came up with.

1

The Gospel of Pink Fairies says, "Do It." And that's what you have to do. Period. Oddly enough, sometimes, on the spur of the moment and in the rattle of bliss - you forget about it and start to overthink the thing. It gets overwrought. While in of itself, there is nothing bad about overwrought overthinking - when it is not by design - it is detrimental to the cause. When you need to shoot - shoot not talk or hesitate.

From my perspective, the process of writing poetry is perfectly described by one Mike Tyson - "Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth." Once you're in - you never know what's coming but you need to adapt and get through. You just do it, otherwise you crawl back into your warm bath of the comfort zone.

This makes writing poetry something Timothy Leary called "designing chaos." The challenge is to keep the composure to stay focused to delve into unknown unknown - and will the thing into existence. 

2

On the other hand, you have the baggage - skills, experience, opinions - this stuff often takes over and diminish your ability to stay open-minded and "make it new." 

It is like Psycho Mantis in Metal Gear Solid 1. It can counter your every step and predict every move and neuter the effort. So you need to reroute the controller to get over it. 

This aspect makes being a poet a rather dubious experience. You need to overcome your personality traits and be a stuntman double of yourself, more or less go in spite of an instinct, be wrong and helpless, and inane, and hapless to move further and explore new states - literally, stumble and bumble into discoveries and roll in it as if was a barb wire.

3

The challenge or difficulty of any kind may be a starting point or a building block of the piece; either way, it is what makes the piece special. 

When it happens - you're on the right track. So in retrospect, the answer is, "bring it on." 

In that regard, in one way or another, the poet semi-unknowingly looks for the challenge or trouble or difficulty or complication by nature with no apparent intention to leverage it. As a fellah once sang, "misery's my middle name." It just happens.

It is natural to look for tomato can challenges to get through, because taking risks can get you beat and you don't want that fuzzy feeling. 

And the whole thing is encapsulated in one sharp "ok.", possibly followed by "whatever", that results in moving on towards the solution that realizes the piece. 

***
To summarize, the challenges are:

• needless overthinking
• purposeful overconfidence
• sheer lack of adaptability
• blatant lack of openmindedness
• abhorrent lack of focus
• eldritch fear of unknown
• mischievous comfort zone corruption
• calamitous fear of failure 
• nonplus lack failure positivity

Ian McKellen and The Fleshtones - Sonnet XX

Online readings are all the rage right now. Musician are giving concerts online, poets are recording their performances, live book readings pop up here and there. The future is here. I was dreaming about it for years.

Things went so far that even Sir Patrick Stewart is reading Shakespeare's sonnets on Instagram.

But it is not what this post is about. Patrick Stewart is great at performing Shakespeare's sonnets, no argument here, but he can't hold a candle ещ other esteemed Shakespearean actor - Ian McKellen.

The story goes. Back in 1987 Andy Warhol had a show on MTV. It was aptly titled "Fifteen Minutes" and it was all about capturing zeitgeist the hard way. One of the episodes featuring the band Fleshtones. They were gearing for a tour to support their new album, so a segment on a Warhol show was just what they needed. Eventually, they taped two segments for the show.


One segment was a glorified lip-sync of their bulldozer lead single  "Return of the Leather Kings."



The other segment featured a band jamming in the background while Ian McKellen performs a Shakespeare's sonnet 20 while wearing the most unfashionable jacket ever as if he was Serge Gainsbourg. 




McKellen performs the sonnet with so much subtle swagger and it gels so well with the music - you instantly want them to record an entire album like that. Just because it is so simple and yet so cool. Things just can't get any better.

The resulting track was later released on the "Fleshtones Present: The Big Bang Theory - Time Bomb!" compilation. The credits went like that: Zaremba / Milhizer / Spaeth / Warren / Streng / Shakespeare. 

Helen Zaltzman's "nmiigea" aka John Lennon's "Imagine" in reverse alphabetical order

Check out this interesting take on John Lennon's Imagine by Helen Zaltzman. "nmiigea" is a reinterpretation of the song with the lyrics arranged in reverse alphabetical order. Why? To "quell anxiety and stress and sleeplessness". The whole thing is presented in the form of an aspirational lyric read-out with soothing guitar muzak in the background.

"nmiigea" is a total conversion of the source material, the song is hijacked and reconfigured into something else to the point of losing any semblance of its original form. Reverse alphabetical order approach completely eviscerates the narrative of the song and consequently evaporates any themes it was transmitting. Instead you get a roundabout incantation of the words devoid of prior coherence. The mental connection to the source material provides space to think about the relativity of the matters.

Some words are repeated over and over, the others only happen once or twice. Either way, there is a gaping chasm in the midst. You know what it is and ahe words are there and they are spoken but they don't come together as they should.

One way of perceiving the piece is by concentrating on the sound of the word. It works from my perspective/ Since english is my second language i'm to able to distance myself enough to take the spoken words as sounds first and words second (makes me rather tolerant to silly lyrics).

The other viable option to let the stream of words to go in and form incidental images, narratives, phrases as you perceive it. The resulting permutation may go places or stomp around the source material - depending on your mood.

As it is - "nmiigea" is an interesting rumination on the way words bear meanings and how these meanings transform in the context and form then narrative. It is an exercise in excising the thick of it. What if there is no apparent context, no narrative to hold it together. What does it mean then?

Cyberpunk poems at X-Peri

Great news! Several of my cyberpunk poems from The Songs of the Great Tits got published on X-Peri blog.

https://x-peri.blogspot.com/2020/03/volodymyr-bilyk-excerpts-from-songs-of.html