I threw a (latte) glass, darkly...
Knock knock.
Who's there?
Knock knock.
Who's there?
Knock knock.
Who's there?
Philip Glass.
If I had created that joke -- an oldie but a goodie -- it would have been a bit more like this:
Knock knock.
Who's there?
Knock knock. Knock knock.
Who's there?
Knock knock. Knock knock. Knock knock. Knock knock.
Who's there?
[Repeat until utterly utterly exhausted... then work backwards, thus:]
Knock knock. Knock knock. Knock knock. Knock knock.
Who's there?
Knock knock. Knock knock.
Who's there?
Knock knock.
Who's there?
Like Glass attempting to notate the music of Ravi Shankar for western musicians, in Paris in the mid 1960s, writing up an interview with the composer requires that one dispense with the "bar lines" of grammar and punctuation.
The man speaks -- rapid-fire -- in blank arpeggios. (And, it must be said, sometimes brutal ostinatos!!) His speech is as additive as his compositional technique. I've used the slash '/' to denote an a definite fracture. A stop/start. Glass doesn't ever trail off into elipses... The next figure [of speech] follows hard on. But it's more that just a new phrasing. It feels like a completely new motif. A new thought. At the very least, a new take on an old thought.
The first two lines of the following extract, for example, might be read as "I worked with both of them at different times." But that's not how he said it. And not, I feel sure, how he meant it. To me it his speech sounded like trial and error. Or, better, try and re-try.
Here he's speaking about Allen Ginsberg and Leonard Cohen:
I worked with both of them/
At different times/
I worked with Allen for about ten years/
And after he passed away/
Sometime after that/
A 4 5 6 year period elapsed/
Then I began to work with Leonard
And I had/
And they were both connected with Buddhist practices/
So/
Tremendous/
It was/
For me, to work with these two men, who were both so similar/
They were both so very/
Their work has very erotic elements in it/
And one is obviously straight/
The other one is not/
We know who/
Which is which/
[Here, I interject with an "indeed we do!"]
But if you start with/
For me, as a composer, to work with these two men/
Who barely knew each other by the way/
They had met but they didn't really know each other/
But I knew them both very well/
I still know Leonard/
But to work with them/
And for me/
I was able to/
Let's say/
contemplate the similarities and differences between them.
See what I mean about transcription? Compressing this into "I knew them both very well... I was able to contemplate the similarities and differences between them..." would be downright dishonest!
I've got a big piece on Glass in this weekend's Financial Review, by the way.
We had an intense and rather compressed telephone conversation a few days ago, in the wee hours of Sunday morning my time. It was rather like slugging down a ristretto (or two) in the middle of the night. It left me bug-eyed.
I'll post more off-cuts soon. Prime off-cuts they are, too!
Who's there?
Knock knock.
Who's there?
Knock knock.
Who's there?
Philip Glass.
If I had created that joke -- an oldie but a goodie -- it would have been a bit more like this:
Knock knock.
Who's there?
Knock knock. Knock knock.
Who's there?
Knock knock. Knock knock. Knock knock. Knock knock.
Who's there?
[Repeat until utterly utterly exhausted... then work backwards, thus:]
Knock knock. Knock knock. Knock knock. Knock knock.
Who's there?
Knock knock. Knock knock.
Who's there?
Knock knock.
Who's there?
Like Glass attempting to notate the music of Ravi Shankar for western musicians, in Paris in the mid 1960s, writing up an interview with the composer requires that one dispense with the "bar lines" of grammar and punctuation.
The man speaks -- rapid-fire -- in blank arpeggios. (And, it must be said, sometimes brutal ostinatos!!) His speech is as additive as his compositional technique. I've used the slash '/' to denote an a definite fracture. A stop/start. Glass doesn't ever trail off into elipses... The next figure [of speech] follows hard on. But it's more that just a new phrasing. It feels like a completely new motif. A new thought. At the very least, a new take on an old thought.
The first two lines of the following extract, for example, might be read as "I worked with both of them at different times." But that's not how he said it. And not, I feel sure, how he meant it. To me it his speech sounded like trial and error. Or, better, try and re-try.
Here he's speaking about Allen Ginsberg and Leonard Cohen:
I worked with both of them/
At different times/
I worked with Allen for about ten years/
And after he passed away/
Sometime after that/
A 4 5 6 year period elapsed/
Then I began to work with Leonard
And I had/
And they were both connected with Buddhist practices/
So/
Tremendous/
It was/
For me, to work with these two men, who were both so similar/
They were both so very/
Their work has very erotic elements in it/
And one is obviously straight/
The other one is not/
We know who/
Which is which/
[Here, I interject with an "indeed we do!"]
But if you start with/
For me, as a composer, to work with these two men/
Who barely knew each other by the way/
They had met but they didn't really know each other/
But I knew them both very well/
I still know Leonard/
But to work with them/
And for me/
I was able to/
Let's say/
contemplate the similarities and differences between them.
See what I mean about transcription? Compressing this into "I knew them both very well... I was able to contemplate the similarities and differences between them..." would be downright dishonest!
I've got a big piece on Glass in this weekend's Financial Review, by the way.
We had an intense and rather compressed telephone conversation a few days ago, in the wee hours of Sunday morning my time. It was rather like slugging down a ristretto (or two) in the middle of the night. It left me bug-eyed.
I'll post more off-cuts soon. Prime off-cuts they are, too!
Labels: Allen Ginsberg, Leonard Cohen, Philip Glass
posted by Chris Boyd at 2:24 PM
8 Comments:
Heh, the first time I skimmed this I thought you said you had a 'big piece OF Glass' in teh FR.
I like the line-by-line transcription very much. Ostinato indeed.
If this, and more, was published in the FR, it would be worth buying! Loved this Mr Boyd. A lot. More!
See this was like my Fiona Apple.
Entire art projects were made with less material, Chris.
There's a book in this. Interviews written the way they were spoken.
You, for example, Chris, speak in italics.
Would it get some wind for the sailboat?
Working backwards... excellent point you don't make Mr Know-Alls! Though Glass wrote the words and music for Einstein on the Beach, there was additional material from a "Samuel Johnson" (he had a middle initial which escapes me right now) and Christopher Knowles. His stuff tends to thrust along like Glass's speech.
The way Knowles wrote (I think he only had three goes at this line!) is exaggerated even more in performance. It's performed thus:
Would/
Would it/
Would it get/
Would it get some/
Would it get some wind/
Would it get some wind for/
Would it get some wind for the/
And, finally:
Would it get some wind for the sailboat?
Italics, hey? I picture myself prancing around conversations tippy-toed as a faun. LOL.
Thanks all.
Nice piece Mr Boyd, but if you're thinking of taking up a career as a joke writer all I can say is...
don't/
don't give/
don't give up/
don't give up your/
don't give up your day/
don't give up your day job!
:-}
Harrrmphh. I "gave up" my day job in 1990. Bummer.
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