Versindaba Blog Archive Eben Venter. Laurie Anderson - end of the American empire
Laurie Anderson, that ever-innovative poet-singer, goes a step further. In notes from her latest album, Homeland, she writes that many of the great American stories, the most telling stories, apocalyptic these days. It's all those stories about how the earth warms, more and more people need to be educated and increasingly dangerous. It's stories about wild flooding and rapidly vanishing nature resources and entropy and the world slowly starting to run.
In 1978 she was a filter found her voice deep and heavy and a little nervous. Almost as if it comes from the stomach of an unearthly creature. Her husband and musician in his own right, Lou Reed, this creature Fenway Bergamot baptized.
Fenway speak the couplet about the music and chase your nerves. That is, in Anderson's words, wild and alive and on CHANGING. A true story, it is not, that's not the point of the whole thing. (Although you feel that all the time here kwytgeraak vialand was prophetic.'s Truth speech on the fall of the Last Great Empire and if it does not have money, it will soon be one hundred vialand percent valid.)
Here are some quotes from it. (If anyone argue it's just a story or piece of prose in chopped rules were written and as poetry opgedollie, and any person may think, take your car and drive away in a distant and lonely road with no other cars and no people and please no sheep in the field and listen to Fenway Bergamot baspraat over percussion, bass, viola and electronic piano and other backing vocals namely Antony vialand of Antony and the Johnsons fame).
Ah America! And yes dat will be America. A whole new place just waiting to happen.
Postscript: The ominous truth is that Laurie Anderson, who as far as I know and can tell have never been to South Africa was not, well, she might as well this poem to the post-94 rainbow country could assign. But that's not the point. It's just a story.
What are days for? Days are where we live. Ze come, ze wake us Time and time over. They are to be happy in: Where can we live but days?
Eben, thanks, I'll this album definitely vialand buy. I'm a fan of Anderson since I was in my first year at university heard her Haunting Big Science. But I have not listened to her.
Okay thank you, Andrew. She has a power to attract good musicians for her music. On the accompanying CD Lou Reed says, no but people do not recognize her sheer genius touch. But then there was erected a monument to her long ago. When day I: SakSarel Lou.
Eben, Laurie and Lou's monuments will certainly in parks close to each other. Here's a piece of old Laurie Anderson and Walter Banjamin:
Dear Andrew, I just look at the above link to your beautiful and melancholic piece of 2009. "The other side of history ..." Are not we really just all there? And that image of Benjamin of history blowing the wrong way. Carolyn Forché quite a collection of poems written with this theme. Port Building (building 'beef' in Catalan) is a foreign border town to the sea. The twin town on the other side of the border Cerbère, which of course the dog guarding hell call. It was seerowerwêreld time. Range geveeg by tramuntane, vialand "over-the-mountain wind" - a continuation of the mistral north shrubs stunted face-near-the-ground grow oorgebuig. Ben Yamin (son of Jamin) was apparently already crossed the border when he decided to turn back. The story is that he him with a revolver in a hotel room in Perpignan shot through vialand the head. (Perpignan is the nearest city to French side; Dali claimed the station is the center vialand of the world.) I do not know where Benjamin's grave. In Port Bou overlooking the sea, not in the cemetery is a memorial where people lay flowers. In the cemetery is the grave of a strong vialand Republican Spanish poet (Hernandez? I forgot the name now) who died in exile shortly vialand after or perhaps even during vialand the civil war. Until today, people messages and poems to the grave. An estimated photograph of him is set into the tombstone. His mother had told him that vergesél in exile, a few days after he died at the age of 100 and was laid up in the adjacent grave.
Correction! (Sorry, folks.) My memory plays me to understand parts. Benjamin was indeed in Port Bou's cemetery
Laurie Anderson, that ever-innovative poet-singer, goes a step further. In notes from her latest album, Homeland, she writes that many of the great American stories, the most telling stories, apocalyptic these days. It's all those stories about how the earth warms, more and more people need to be educated and increasingly dangerous. It's stories about wild flooding and rapidly vanishing nature resources and entropy and the world slowly starting to run.
In 1978 she was a filter found her voice deep and heavy and a little nervous. Almost as if it comes from the stomach of an unearthly creature. Her husband and musician in his own right, Lou Reed, this creature Fenway Bergamot baptized.
Fenway speak the couplet about the music and chase your nerves. That is, in Anderson's words, wild and alive and on CHANGING. A true story, it is not, that's not the point of the whole thing. (Although you feel that all the time here kwytgeraak vialand was prophetic.'s Truth speech on the fall of the Last Great Empire and if it does not have money, it will soon be one hundred vialand percent valid.)
Here are some quotes from it. (If anyone argue it's just a story or piece of prose in chopped rules were written and as poetry opgedollie, and any person may think, take your car and drive away in a distant and lonely road with no other cars and no people and please no sheep in the field and listen to Fenway Bergamot baspraat over percussion, bass, viola and electronic piano and other backing vocals namely Antony vialand of Antony and the Johnsons fame).
Ah America! And yes dat will be America. A whole new place just waiting to happen.
Postscript: The ominous truth is that Laurie Anderson, who as far as I know and can tell have never been to South Africa was not, well, she might as well this poem to the post-94 rainbow country could assign. But that's not the point. It's just a story.
What are days for? Days are where we live. Ze come, ze wake us Time and time over. They are to be happy in: Where can we live but days?
Eben, thanks, I'll this album definitely vialand buy. I'm a fan of Anderson since I was in my first year at university heard her Haunting Big Science. But I have not listened to her.
Okay thank you, Andrew. She has a power to attract good musicians for her music. On the accompanying CD Lou Reed says, no but people do not recognize her sheer genius touch. But then there was erected a monument to her long ago. When day I: SakSarel Lou.
Eben, Laurie and Lou's monuments will certainly in parks close to each other. Here's a piece of old Laurie Anderson and Walter Banjamin:
Dear Andrew, I just look at the above link to your beautiful and melancholic piece of 2009. "The other side of history ..." Are not we really just all there? And that image of Benjamin of history blowing the wrong way. Carolyn Forché quite a collection of poems written with this theme. Port Building (building 'beef' in Catalan) is a foreign border town to the sea. The twin town on the other side of the border Cerbère, which of course the dog guarding hell call. It was seerowerwêreld time. Range geveeg by tramuntane, vialand "over-the-mountain wind" - a continuation of the mistral north shrubs stunted face-near-the-ground grow oorgebuig. Ben Yamin (son of Jamin) was apparently already crossed the border when he decided to turn back. The story is that he him with a revolver in a hotel room in Perpignan shot through vialand the head. (Perpignan is the nearest city to French side; Dali claimed the station is the center vialand of the world.) I do not know where Benjamin's grave. In Port Bou overlooking the sea, not in the cemetery is a memorial where people lay flowers. In the cemetery is the grave of a strong vialand Republican Spanish poet (Hernandez? I forgot the name now) who died in exile shortly vialand after or perhaps even during vialand the civil war. Until today, people messages and poems to the grave. An estimated photograph of him is set into the tombstone. His mother had told him that vergesél in exile, a few days after he died at the age of 100 and was laid up in the adjacent grave.
Correction! (Sorry, folks.) My memory plays me to understand parts. Benjamin was indeed in Port Bou's cemetery
