Maurizio Brancaleoni's blog. Reviews, interviews, translations and haiku. Bilingual. Un blog di Maurizio Brancaleoni. Recensioni, interviste, traduzioni e haiku. Bilingue.
Venerdì 26 settembre 2014 – Sono due i
libri di Paolo Zardi - “Antropometria” e “Il giorno che
diventammo umani” - presentati all'ultimo incontro di Libri a mollo
al Chioschetto di Ponte Milvio.
Graziano dell'Anna, moderatore
dell'evento, ha parlato della grande risonanza che ha avuto sui
social network una foto di Paolo Bonolis che leggeva “Il giorno che
diventammo umani” e si è augurato di vedere sempre più vip che
leggono nella speranza chesegnali di questo tipo risollevino
l'editoria da questo momento di grande crisi per l'editoria.
Paolo Bonolis, ospite d'eccezione, ha
spiegato che il suo interesse per questi libri nasce dalla capacità
di Zardi di 'cogliere frammenti in superficie dell'animo umano che
cambiano a seconda della luce che impatta' su questi e di raccontare
'sensazioni in un breve tratto di racconto'. I racconti di Zardi sono
'forti e ironici' e sanno 'leggere la realtà nella sua drammaticità
e nella sua natura grottesca'. La bravura dell'autore si vedrebbe
anche nella plasticità della scrittura che permette al lettore
di realizzare l'identificazione anche con un personaggio privo di nome.
Inoltre, secondo Bonolis, la nostra è
forse 'un'epoca di eccessiva velocità fuori dallo spazio e dal
tempo' dominata da Internet. Abituati all'immediatezza dell'informazione, l'intervallo di tempo necessario per leggere un librofinisce per sembrarci troppo lungo.
Per Dell'Anna i testi di Zardi trattano
di 'un'umanità minuta'e pongono l'essere umano al
centro della narrazione, come tutta la grande letteratura, da quella classica alla più recente. È poi il ricorso al grottesco e a elementi anomali che caratterizza l'opera dell'autore.
Per Zardi essere uno scrittore significa
prima di tutto avere uno sguardo diverso che sappia rubare a piene
mani dalla realtà che lo circonda. Secondo l'autore, 'la letteratura
è una forma di conoscenza' che 'si occupa di cose di cui non si può
dare una misura'. Così come per tanti mostri sacri, i due temi principali della sua opera sarebbero 'l'amore e la morte'. Incuriosito da questa presentazione? Puoi acquistare i libri di Paolo Zardi qui.
Martedì 23 settembre - Un'altra
bella serata in compagnia di Palombi Editori e dei suoi autori per
l'incontro “Raccontare Roma” in occasione della rassegna “Libri
a mollo”.
Ha avviato il dibattito Sergio Bonetti,
moderatore dell'evento, ringraziando Carmelo Calì, 'libraio come non
se ne trovano più' e i ragazzi del Chioschetto, un 'luogo
incredibile' che dimostra come la cultura non debba necessariamente
'essere pesante ed elitaria'.
Palombi Editori, specializzata in volumi
su Roma, ha anche realizzato cataloghi di mostre importanti. Fondata
nel 1914 dai fratelli Nello e Francesco formatisi a Lipsia, 'vertice
delle arti tipografiche', la casa editrice ha praticamente 'fatto un
secolo'.
Claudia Monteiro de Castro, autrice di
“La mejo Roma”, nasce in Brasile ma si stabilisce a Roma dodici
anni fa, abbastanza per vedere 'con occhi da romana' la città eterna
ma con un po' meno di quella pigrizia del romano che 'ha tutta la
vita per vedere Roma'.
Carmen Rotunno ha invece pubblicato per
Palombi Editori “Roma è anche una città per bambini”, “Roma
quando piove” e “Roma spendere bene”. Nei suoi libri, l'autrice
propone al lettore una Roma insolita e più 'internazionale' che non
sia la solita 'pizza e Colosseo'. I luoghi che menziona - 'provati,
rivisti e fotografati' – sono 'realtà interessanti', 'indirizzi
frivoli ma anche culturali' che 'l'hanno catturata'.
Per Flaminio di Biagi, autore di “La
Roma di Roma città aperta”, un testo su 'un film fondamentale'
ambientato in un 'periodo storico importantissimo', il personaggio
del prete interpretato da Fabrizi nel film sarebbe la combinazione di
ben tre personaggi storici realmente esistiti: Don Morosini, Don
Pappagallo e Don Pierluigi Occelli, chiamato 'Don Pietro', prete
partigiano che organizzò la difesa di Montagnola dai tedeschi.
“Le chiavi per aprire 99 luoghi segreti
di Roma” è invece opera dello storico dell'arte Costantino
D'Orazio, venuto a contatto per la prima volta con la Palombi grazie
a un progetto poi diventato realtà di pubblicare delle miniguide
sulle periferie romane nel tentativo di rilanciare dei quartieri che
'i romani non avevano mai capito'. Probabilmente il libro che ha
ispirato il personaggio di Pasotti in “La grande bellezza” , “Le
chiavi” è secondo D'orazio parte del 'grande libro' della Palombi,
editore di grande coerenza che offre una 'visione trasversale di
questa città.'
Francesco Palombi ha infine sottolineato
che molte di queste iniziative sono state proposte alla casa editrice
dagli autori e che questi libri riescono nel difficile compito di
parlare di una città di cui si è già scritto tanto grazie a una miscela di
'passione' e 'professionalità.' Incuriosito da questa presentazione? Puoi acquistare i libri della Palombi Editori qui.
Nuovo appuntamento del 18 settembre di ‘Libri a
Mollo’ con la presentazione\reading di ‘Mette pioggia’ di Gianni Tetti, edito
dalla Neo Edizioni. Sono intervenuti l'autore, Francesco Coscioni, Carlo Sperduti e Nicola Bonimelli.
Il dibattito è stato aperto da Francesco Coscioni, titolare della Neo Edizioni, casa editrice fieramente indipendente il cui obiettivo è sempre stato in sei anni di attività quello di scoprire talenti nascosti. Di Gianni Tetti – secondo la rivista ‘Il Mucchio’ “uno dei
cinque autori da tenere d’occhio” – La Neo ha pubblicato anche la raccolta di racconti
‘I cani là fuori’.
Per Coscioni, la presenza di un “nucleo in cui
palpita il male”, il legame profondo dei personaggi con la terra e l’onnipresenza degli animali sono tratti distintivi di ‘Mette pioggia’, “libro corale” in cui si
stilisticamente si avverte l’esperienza di Tetti come sceneggiatore. Nelle parole di Tetti, l’animale è il naturale
“contrappunto all’essere umano”, lui stesso nient'altro che un animale e
l’uomo è in effetti “preda dei proprio istinti” tanto più “è a contatto con la terra”.
Fondamentale nella stesura del libro è stato trovare il ritmo giusto, suggerito
all’autore dal ‘Bolero’ di Ravel, che proprio come ‘Mette pioggia’, inizia in
sordina per concludere in un imponente trionfo. Incuriosito da questa presentazione? Puoi acquistare il libro qui.
Si è tenuta ieri sera alle 19 al
Chioschetto di Ponte Milvio la presentazione dell'ultimo libro di
Fabio Stassi “Come un respiro interrotto” all'interno della
rassegna letteraria “Libri a mollo” patrocinata dal Municipio XV
di Roma Capitale.
Dopo la lettura di una brano che ha
tenuto tutti con il fiato sospeso, ha preso la parola Nicola Lagioia,
uno dei due moderatori dell'evento, secondo cui questo libro è per
Stassi - “l'antitesi dello scrittore italiano ombelicale” - un
ritorno a casa. Infatti, dopo aver parlato di Sicilia, Sudamerica e
Stati Uniti, lo scrittore ambienta “Come un respiro interrotto”
nella Città Eterna, di cui mette in evidenza la profonda
trasformazione urbana e sociale che l'ha investita negli ultimi
cinquant'anni. Per Lagioia, l'ultimo libro di Stassi è un'ode
appassionata al “meticciato salvifico”: Sole(dad), la
protagonista, cantante mai registrata che si esibisce nei locali
romani, nasce infatti da famiglia siciliana traferitasi in Uruguay.
Giordano Meacci rintraccia invece
nell'idea della “voce” la chiave di volta del romanzo e definisce
i 26 capitoliche compongono il libro “26 forme di dispnea
iterata”.
Altra questione su cui Meacci pone
l'accento è l'“imperfezione” jazzistica fatta di “balbettii e
imprecisioni” che Stassi sembra voler ricreare nella sua scrittura.
Fabio Stassi avalla quest'ipotesi e ci
spiega che tutti i suoi libri in fondo parlano di assenze e della sensazione di aver perso qualcosa. In “Come un respiro
interrotto” la sua aspirazione era descrivere “la voce dietro il
sipario” di Soledad. In questo senso, il libro, un tentativo di
scrivere jazzisticamente “fuori tempo”, è un “fallimento
grande” sulla falsariga di quel desiderio di Coltrane di dare
all'ascoltare l'impressione “di mettere il piede nel vano vuoto di
un ascensore”.
Importante per Stassi è anche il tema
della famiglia, una volta custode del culto delle storie e della
musica, purtroppo destinata alla disintegrazione in questa Roma
trasformatasi gradualmente in città per soli ricchi.
First of
all, thank you for agreeing to this interview. How about starting it
off by telling us a bit about yourself and your job?
Thank
you for this opportunity! I was born in Novara (Italy) by accident,
in 1968, my family are from Modena, and when I was 6 we moved to
Verona, where I grew up. I went to University in Milano and after my
chemistry degree I decided I had no interest in making new molecules,
rather I wanted to look at existing ones. This, and a passion for
living cells, made me choose protein science. During my doctorate I
moved to England, where protein structural science was born in the XX
century, and here I have become a structural biologist. Mostly, I
work as a protein chemist and an X-ray crystallographer: we isolate
proteins and make them into crystals (think of these crystals as a
magnifying lenses for the proteins they contain). We then shine
X-rays on the crystals and interpret those X-ray images to obtain 3D
models of the proteins. These 3D models inform on the functions of
the proteins and assists drug design. At the moment we are trying to
understand how UGGT (the enzyme responsible for the quality control
of all proteins secreted by eukaryotic cells) can do its job at all:
imagine a single molecule in charge of checking on hundreds of
differently shaped molecules, and being able to flag them for
retention in the cell if they are incorrectly folded. A molecular
mystery! That, or the current model about UGGT needs improving. My
colleagues and I think we should find a drug to inhibit UGGT in
individuals suffering from certain genetic diseases. We hope to be
able to prove this idea right or wrong.
At what
age did you start writing poetry ? What were your favourite poets
then? How has your poetry evolved over the years?
I
started writing poetry around the age of 14. My favourite poets then
were Catullus, Ariosto, Gianni Rodari, Dino Campana and Eugenio
Montale. All I wrote till the age of 21 has either been lost or
destroyed (although I suppose a copy of some latin hexameters of mine
may survive among the records of the 1986 Certamen catullianum (a
yearly latin writing contest for schoolchildren) in their archives in
Lazise).
The
first surviving manuscript of mine is a book I wrote in 1989-1991,
still unpublished, although the poems are online – together with
the entirety of my unpublished texts to date. Whenever I publish a
book I remove the poems from the web, but the rest is all there:
individual texts online do not give a true sense of the manuscript
they belong to, but they can still be appreciated individually before
they appear in a printed book.
A
second book of poetry, also unpublished, was written during the years
1993-1994: at the time, I was serving as a conscientious objector in
a community hosting a dozen of psychiatric patients in Sesto San
Giovanni, between Monza and Milano. Earlier in 2014 I took some of
those poems out of the drawer and submitted them to a small poetry
competition in Rimini, and I have been awarded the first prize:
http://farapoesia.blogspot.co.uk/2014/07/vincitori-del-concorso-in-sana-mente.html
Since
moving to England, I developed a taste for American poetry (Marianne
Moore, Emily Dickinson, Wallace Stevens), while among italian poets I
came to appreciate Aldo Palazzeschi, Giampiero Bona, Guido Gozzano,
Giorgio Caproni, Bartolo Cattafi, and Toti Scialoja. Perhaps not
surprisingly. Alongside these readings, my poetry has become
increasingly sound- and rhyme-based. Among living italian I
especially love Cristina Annino and Giuseppe Caracausi. From them I
am learning to cut out the inessential and the redundant, and to
trust my own text without worrying too much about the reception on
the part of the reader. My recent texts have benefitted from their
help and example.
How many
languages can you speak? What do you like about each one? How does
language affect your poetry?
I can
speak Italian of course, although these days I sometimes come up with
rather anglicised turns of phrase. I like Italian when it is terse
and concise, because of its simplicity. Its roots stretching back to
Latin carry for me the past into the present. My English can be good
at times: I love this language’s immense lexicon, which allows its
speakers to be very accurate if they choose to be so; and the almost
complete absence of gender in it, which in turn allows vagueness when
needed. My Spanish is basic but I find that it stirs very strong
emotions in me, the way what is familiar and yet exotic at the same
time does. My French sounds horrendous, and yet I admire its subtle
vocalic sounds I cannot reproduce, and its ability to pass for
sophisticated even when it’s rather coarse. I am fortunate enough
to have ready many great books written in one or another of these
languages, and it gives me a great joy to be able to read something
very good in the original. All these languages affect my poetry
because they remind me that a poem can only be justified if it is the
best (if not the only) way of saying what it says. So other languages
I know in the background serve as it were as a selection/control
ground for my texts in italian. Last but not least, I think that
today the future of all languages is in their coevolution and
reciprocal contamination. I am especially excited about what is
happening and will happen to italian in the wake of the more recent
waves of immigration to Italy.
Tell us a
bit about the two poetry books of yours that have been published and
your electronically available poems. What poetry websites do you
regularly publish your poems on? Are you in touch with stimulating
online communities?
“Una
crisi creativa” (Puntoacapo, 2010) is – as the title suggests –
the result of a year of furious writing, which I would liken now to
the bursting of a suppurating wound or an infected spot. It contains
rough, coarse, inflated writing, with the rage and the exhilaration
of middle age in it. Its texts went through none of the painstaking
polishing I used to carry out on my writings before. Perhaps in spite
of this, or perhaps precisely because writing the book was such a
liberating experience, when I finished it, for the first time in my
life I thought I should try and publish it. I had always taken
writing seriously but I never craved readers; with these poems I did,
and I remain very grateful to Mauro Ferrari who gave me the
opportunity to find some. I am still rather inclined to forgive the
book’s weaknesses, although now that I think I may have readers, I
have become much more strict with myself when it comes to working on
a poem.
My
second published book “Vamosaver” (Gattomerlino/Superstripes,
2014) was written during my 2012-2103 stay in the Basaue Country. It
retains the irony and the invective of the first book in places, but
it also relishes shorter, more controlled forms, and it is more
experimental in its attempt to grapple with the language, with
foreign languages darting to the foreground from time to time where
the italian needs them. I am not sure if I can continue writing like
this but I am very pleased with the editing Piera Mattei did on the
book, with the watercolour that my friend and colleague Daniel Badia
Martinez drew for it, and with the many memories that these texts
capture and I hope reverberate around.
For my
online publishing, I have chosen a low-brow, open-to-all website,http://pietroroversi.scrivere.info/.
They maintain my texts in good order and they provide space for my
readers to comment. I can link to those pages when I need it. While
the people in charge of the website hold very different views on
poetry to mine, and we have often clashed, I enjoy the company of
many other people who publish their writing in there, and I have
found as many good writers among that community as in the official
world of italian published poetry. In some sense the website is below
the radar of the professional literary critics, so I am really hiding
my texts in full view, which I enjoy: it helps me focussing on the
writing without taking myself too seriously. I regularly put my texts
on Facebook as Notes, for my friends to read. I have occasionally
published texts in online poetry magazines, poetry blogs or friend’s
webpages.
In your
poems, a scientific, supposedly objective language is used to dissect
humakind and its fallibility. The discourse is steered by witty puns
based on collocations, assonances and semantic affinities (I can't
help but think of the metaphysical poets and their notion of wit.)
Often such a semantic and thematic turn is realized in the
enjambement. Another relevant matter is the bodily dimension and the
meticulous description of acts, in short, concrete imagery realizing
poetical immateriality (a contradiction in terms!)
What do
you start with when writing poems and how long does it take you for
the polishing work?
I am
especially fond of John Donne’s poetry, so I am delighted (if
rather humbled) by the comparison with the metaphysical poets. And I
certainly strive for texts that carry or embody the complexity and
the ambiguity of the world, including human contradictions. In this
context, the language for me becomes the network that keeps things
together. Hence perhaps the interconnecting sounds and the skeleton
of connected words that often traverses the text, as you point out.
References to different parts of the same semantic field and broken
down chains of associations serve the same purpose. In a nutshell,
good poetry for me must contain hidden persuasive devices, and
anything giving cohesion to the text gives it plausibility and helps
manipulating the attention of the reader.
As to
their genesis, the poems are born in a number of ways, but two of the
most frequent ones seem to be: I hear somebody speaking a phrase or
sentence, and then I feel compelled to write it down, stealing it, I
suppose; or when a syllable presents itself repeated in a sentence,
either mine ot somebody else’s, and it triggers more instances of
itself to follow. The poem then unfolds or wraps around these germs.
A single word seldom calls for a poem and indeed I am not a great fan
of single words in isolation. I especially hate verse without verbs
and just nouns stated as if they were magical or evocative or
“poetic”. We do not speak like this in everyday life. I am more
interested in grey, neutral parts of speech, stock phrases, proverbs,
adages, the commonplace, the banal. Perhaps in my middle age so much
of my thinking is either prejudicial or stereotypical, that these
parts of the language suit me best.
As to
the work on a text after its genesis, most poems are finished in half
an hour or so. Others take longer, days perhaps, but I do not work on
them all the time. I leave them, forget them for a little while, then
go back and delete or add and fix until I do not know what to do
anymore or they look the way they should. Deep down, I almost always
know the weaker bits, but it is not always easy to find the courage
to cut them or know how to improve things. Sometimes letting somebody
else edit a text of mine or give me their opinion on it has helped me
immensely, although there are parts that I would never accept to
change, because they are what they should be (typically because of
their sound, the way they scan, or their interrelation to the rest)
and I do not care if somebody else thinks otherwise.
I'd like
to conclude this interview asking you to share two poems of yours
with me and the readers of this blog so that they can have a sample of your work.
Dates
for my diary
During
the Napoleonic wars
Britain
was isolated
from
mainland Europe:
people
became collectors
of
seaweed and root vegetables,
and
this tradition
seems
to have continued
well
beyond the scope
of
that need. Laver bread, sea kale, black
salsify
are just examples of near-inedibles
that
could feed the starved
in a
time of dearth. Back then,
that
kind of knack for tasteless hope could be excused.
But
what a palaver now to insist that it still be of use.
On
another matter, you teach, you would not
spell
"lose" "loose",
but I
wouldn't put past you the belief
that
the Barnacle Goose
was
born from a mussel on the beach, such
is
your virginity in all matters
exact
(microbiology, anatomy or humanist
church-going
are examples), not to mention
any
fact to do with movement in space, or with the sense
of
what makes one handsome and what does not.
Not
that it matters much. Much to my chagrin,
the
Key of Joy may be the sin of disobedience, but
I'll
stick with the dates for my diary,
with
the compere on the show, as I want his
company,
companionship, comradeship
beyond
compare. Like in the old days,
this
is a case of
kelp
for ash, and cash for kelp.
One
helps oneself to what is in one's dish.
One
learns to relish help when one is famished.
The
funny thing is though, all considered:
I am
continental. I can shop. I know better.
From
now on, I vow to reintroduce
some
of the good produce, stop being a schlepper.
[28082009]
Swag,
loot & contraband
Look
at how the shiny orange leaves
tumble
down to the floor,
carrot
cake pieces that cavort
in the
stomach! I ate my slice and more.
If
hunting pink is red,
is a
hunting pavillion
vermillion?
As if I had qualms
about
appropriating the verse in a million
that
fell off the back of a lorry.
I
stole these from you, sorry, Juliet!
And
yet and yet and yet ...
[31102009]
Thank you
again for your time, Pietro, and until next time, goodbye!
sull'odore di bistecca nei vicoli. Le sei. I mozziconi consumati di giorni fumosi. E ora una pioggia ventosa avvolge i lerci resti di foglie secche attorno ai tuoi piedi e di giornali dagli spazi vuoti; le pioggie battono sulle persiane rotte e i comignoli, e all'angolo della strada un solitario cavallo di carrozza fuma e scalpita.
E poi l'accensione delle lampade.
II
La mattina arriva alla coscienza con il lieve odore stantio
di birra dalla strada pesta di
segatura con tutti i suoi piedi
infangati che premono ai bar mattutini. Con le altre mascherate che il tempo resuscita, uno pensa a tutte le mani che proiettano ombre
nerastre in mille camere
ammobiliate.
III
Hai gettato la coperta
dal letto, ti sei sdraiata e hai
aspettato; hai sonnecchiato e
osservato la notte
rivelare
le mille sordide immagini che costituivano la tua
anima; guizzavano contro il
soffitto. E quando il mondo intero
ritornò e la luce s'insinuò tra
le imposte e sentisti i passeri
nelle grondaie, hai avuto una tale
visione della strada che la strada a malapena
capisce; seduta sul bordo del
letto, dove hai srotolato la carta dai capelli
o hai stretto le piante
gialle dei piedi nei palmi delle mani
macchiate.
IV
La sua anima si estendeva
per i cieli che sbiadiscono dietro un
isolato o era calpestata da piedi
insistenti alle quattro e alle
cinque e alle sei; e corte dita quadrate che
riempiono pipe e giornali della sera, e
occhi sicuri di certe certezze; la coscienza di una
strada annerita impaziente di arrogarsi
il mondo.
Sono commosso da fantasie che sono arricciate
intorno a queste immagini
e si aggrappano:
l'idea di una qualche
cosa infinitamente
tenera
infinitamente sofferente.
Strofina la tua mano
sulla bocca e ridi; il mondo ruota come
antiche donne che raccolgono combustibile in spazi
È disponibile all'acquisto on line, per l'editore WildBoar, 'Storie di Confine',
l'antologia di racconti brevi fantasy promossa dall'Associazione
Culturale Terre di Confine, il cui ricavato verrà devoluto all'ONLUS
Medici senza Frontiere. 55 racconti scritti da autori esordienti e
autori già noti ai patiti del Fantasy italiano. L'antologia ospita anche
15 illustrazioni realizzate da illustratori di gran nome e da
esordienti, mentre Diramazioni - Illustration and Design ha regalato la splendida immagine di copertina. Contiene il mio racconto" Fuori dalla società ". apsv
Presto disponibile'Corti - Terza stagione: Il ritorno dei Corti viventi', che contiene il mio racconto'Genesi'.
Ci è voluto tempo. Scoperchiare le tombe non è mai
stato un mestiere facile… Bisogna scegliere i cadaveri migliori,
metterli in ghingheri, insegnare loro a camminare spediti, uno dietro
lʼaltro, con il loro bagaglio di storie da raccontare. Ma ci siamo
riusciti e possiamo dirlo: presto, molto presto, i Corti viventi cammineranno nelle vostre case. apsv
In Corti - Terza stagione: il ritorno dei Corti viventi, grazie alle amorevoli cure di Raffaele Serafini, 63 racconti brevi e 29 agguerriti autori
saranno concentrati in un centinaio di pagine, pronti per entrare nella
tua mente. Riempiranno il tuoi scaffale di piccole malvagità e storie
crudeli e avvincenti.
Ho avuto il piacere di tradurre in italiano Kansai Airport, un racconto fantascientifico e surreale di Patrik Sampler. NLAV
Riporto qui un brano del libro L'aeroporto di Kansai:
" In
tutte le direzioni si estende una monotonia di autostrade
multilivello a diciotto piani, rampe di uscita a spirale e
appartamenti grandi come scatole di scarpe stracolmi all'interno. Il
bucato è appeso fuori nella saturazione dei fumi di scarico: che
senso ha?
Immagino
un prodotto chimico che dissolva le moltitudini terrestri: insieme
alla melma chimicizzata, la maggior parte delle costruzioni umane
scivolerebbe nell'oceano. Ma Osaka è cemento, plastica e acciaio,
talmente distante dalla geologia che rimarrebbe in piedi sul livello
del mare come l'impianto idraulico di una casa di legno incenerita... "
First of all, thank you for agreeing to this interview. Are you recording new songs right now? What's your usual music-making process?
I'm working on songs, or some kind of music almost every day. Aside from what gets occasionally released on CD or records, i am always trying to come up with something here at home (using a very simple proTools set up) that i put on Bandcamp. Or make copies to sell at shows, and give to friends.
My process varies a good deal, but basically, i start by making a chord sequence and than listen to what i have until some words come to mind. Of course, once i have that, i edit and move stuff around. Like today, I had some organ chords i liked but had to change the position of the chorus; i didn't like its length, so i cut it in half and repeated it toward the end of the song.
I'm tagging it art-pop, outsider, and psych-pop lately. It's evolved over the years.
Mostly it's some version of indie singer-songwriter music. Poetry of sorts. Little inventions. Little compositions, but not art song.
Do you still play the tiple?
No. Hand problems make it painful sometimes. I do some recording, but very rarely, strumming or simple flat-picking. The last tiple project i made was "Paper Horses", an album on Bandcamp from 2009.
Tell us a bit about your current band ( http://eaband.tumblr.com/ ). Back to the 60's, what was like playing with Gandalf and the Motorpickle?
My current band is Ed Askew Band. There are no available recordings yet. Except for a lo-fi live performance (also on Bandcamp..free download) it's me singing, Jay Pluck on the piano, and Tyler Evans playing the tiple. "Ed Askew Band @ Zebulon". We do have a new recording, with some additional people, but i don't know when it's coming out or who is releasing it.
I met Jay after i had played ,with Steve Gunn, at the Stone. I was no longer playing with Steve and i needed an accompanist on piano. And Jay said he wanted to do that. Later we met Tyler, who is in the Black Swans. We were touring with them. And when Tyler moved to NY we asked him to play with us.
I did my first public performances at the Exit CoffeeHouse in New Haven. In 1967 (i guess it was) i was the last performer of the night, and it went over rather well, i think, even though i was nervous. Russ, who was running the show that night introduced me to some people and invited me to join his band, which they were putting together. That was Gandalf. We were a straight ahead rock band; two guitars, drum kit, bass, and singer. I was the singer, and we played my songs mostly. I was with them for most of a year before i quit. I didn't play the tiple with the band. We played around New Haven mostly, and never recorded anything.
Later i was part of a trio, also in NH, that lasted for a few months, till the other two guys left NH. And i played music with Russ, off and on, for years, though nothing was ever recorded. Most of my performing, however, was as a solo act. And since the early 1968 i did lots of local shows playing the harpsichord, and the tiple. I also did solo shows at a bar in Mystic Ct, and at some stuff in Boston.
Ask the Unicorn and Little Eyes are unforgotten masterpieces. What do you remember about your experience with ESP-Disk' and Bernard Stollman? What were your influences back then?
After i graduated from art school i moved to New York City for a time. I was playing around the city at coffee houses; i would just show up and play. You could do that a lot then. Someone suggested i play for Bernard Stollman of ESP Disk'. So i got his number and , as requested, i made a tape. And took it down to his office and he listened to it. He offered me a contract on the spot. I made the first record in 1967 or 68. It was released in 68. Except for some local attention (i had moved back to new Haven) the record was a non-event. And soon even my friends forgot about it.
But i kept writing and performing.. so it didn't seem that important. Then i made a second recording (Little Eyes) but it didn't get released until years later.
Back then i liked all the Woodstock people..Hendrix , Joni Mitchel, the Doors..Dylan, all the stuff my friends were listening to; mostly on records. I would occasionally go to a concert. I almost never went to clubs. But you would occasionally go hear a band somewhere.. someone not with a record out. I had also listened to John Cage and Kurt Weill (THREE PENNY OPERA) and Harry Parch. Stuff like psych-folk and outsider music i didn't know about, and never liked when i did hear it. Though my taste has broadened over the years. A bit.
Do you think 'psychedelic folk' was a well-chosen definition of your music?
It seemed ok in the early 70s. Everyone was smoking pot and taking acid. No one ever called it psych-folk back then. It was year later i started hearing that term. My music had a sort of manic quality. Someone said it was acid folk. It really wasn't much of a concern.
What did you like about your job as an art teacher?
Well, i had tons of part time positions in various programs over the years. Mostly working with kids. (And teaching design at a university for a few years, until they closed the school). I always liked working with Children, of course. I like kids art. It's quite beautiful sometimes. I liked to have small classes best. I did a lot of Summer programs also. Summer is hot and always packed with as many kids as they can get in the program. So it's more intense. Less fun in some ways. Especially if your job is also getting teenagers to clean up the camp area.
Your music and art seem to have in common the gift of spontaneity. What were your favorite artists when you studied at Yale Art School? And what are your inspirations now?
I liked the so called abstract-expressionists like DeKooning.. and all the best so-called modernist artists, like Paul Klee and Picasso. I still like picture makers ( abstract or figurative) best. I haven't kept up. and don't go to galleries very often. I go to the Met Museum fairly often. I like Chinese landscape painting a lot. I like some of the German figurative painters i first saw in the 90s.
What are the pros and cons of being an independent musician? Is the Internet an effective tool to self-promote one's work?
Well, i'm in the situation i'm in; i can make any kind of music i want and if it changes, i don't have to worry about upsetting too many fans or critics, or music business people. So one has a great deal of freedom as an artist. But even in my situation i get people who would rather hear only my older music. People who only see me as someone who wrote music in the 60s and 70s. And it's still almost impossible to find a label that is willing to release anything written or recorded in the last 25 years. So i do it myself. And that works ok on the internet. at least people can hear my new songs there. So the internet is good for promotion, but i don't sell all that much. It's like, getting $6. Occasionally. But having a sort of internet profile; reviews, and pictures certainly helps get shows. And i sell some stuff at shows also.
Do you think the environment affects an artist's inventiveness? If so, does New York City influence your work to a certain extent?
Yes. Definitely. Even though i keep to myself mostly. Getting gigs in Brooklyn and playing around New York is very good. And working with other musicians, and doing occasional short tours gets me out of myself in a healthy way that affects my music in a positive way. I also hear kinds of work that i probably would not listen to if i was by myself. So that's good.
How would you describe your life? What are your projects for the future?
My life is sort of day to day.. one foot in front of the other. I don't tend to make future plans because something is always coming up. I mean, if we are considering doing a tour.. we do whatever we have to do (Jay does most of the organizing, with some input from me and Tyler) .. if we are planing that, we do whatever planing we have to do for that. But otherwise i don't make too many plans.
Day to day, i make art and work on new songs, hang out at home, go for walks, watch videos, read.
