An Audio Circus
The Big Goodbye
This was a dedication show for Waylon Jennings I put together back in March of 2002. I call it "Goodbye". All about that big goodbye. We are here and not, all at once. The dance around the black void of uncertainty which fuels us, pulls us into her. Having to say goodbye and go it alone into the unknown rules everything. It's the root of all our doings. So hello my friend, and my friend goodbye.
There It Is (part 1)
Anything that punches holes in the ordinary has the potential of value.
Set List as follows in which each piece is integrated and interchanged sporadically throughout the show. Not at all in the order of the list.
1. Performance w/ James Fox/Mick Jagger- filmed in 1968 by Nicolas Roeg & Donald Cammell. Written by Cammell with music by Jack Nitzsche.
2. Mozart - Requiem
3. Samuel Beckett - How It Is - read by Sarah Berthume
4. Gertrude Stein - How To Write - read by Jason Berthume
5. Tom Waits - Wait till Yesterday
6. ESP - East Side Percussion
7. KECAK - Balinese Music Drama
8. Jefferson Airplane - Wooden Ships
9. Frank Black - Bartholomew
10.Tom Waits - Regret #1 #2
11.The Band - When You Awake
12.Tom Waits - Cold Cold Ground
13.Jefferson Airplane - Plastic Fantastic Lover
14.Frank Black - Headed My Way
15.Tom Waits - You'll Have To Wait till Yesterdays Here
The true trend of the poet in my mind is the symbolic use of a more personal jargon which I referred to earlier as the old sign language no longer served. Although, I say it with a mad, hallucinated grin. Once I thought that to be human was the highest aim a man could have , but now I have nothing to do with the creaking machinery of humanity, I belong to my madness, my excrement, my ecstasy, to the great circuit which flows through the subterranean vaults of the flesh. A man who belongs to this race must stand up on a high place with gibberish in his mouth and rip out his entrails. One has to earn death with all one’s appetites, refuse no poison, reject no experience however degrading or sordid. One has to come to the end of one’s forces, learn that one is a slave - in whatever realm - in order to desire emancipation. And anything that falls short of this frightening spectacle, anything less shuddering, less terrifying, less mad, less intoxicated, less contaminating, is not art. You put on a bishop’s robe and miter, he pondered, and walk around in that, and people bow, genuflect and like that, try to kiss your ring, if not your ass, and pretty soon you’re a bishop. So to speak. What is identity? He asked himself. Where does the act end. The identity of the purveyors of the poisons concocted of brain-destructive filth shot daily, taken orally daily, smoked daily by several million men and women-or rather, that were once men and women- is gradually being unraveled.
The rest is counterfeit. The rest is human. The rest belongs to life and lifelessness. The benevolent pride of the genius lies in his will which must be broken. The secret to deliverance lies in the practice of charity.
There It Is (part 2)
He must be an outsider's outsider.
This divinity of her's is a liquid blue reflection of a man in a study in front of a window peeping out of and back at a glass globe held in her hand holy n sacred, devoted to supreme greatness, enjoying a soft creamy kind a candy. A sort of crystallization of our image, our imagination, boiling n evaporating, weak, hesitant or ineffectual, even, flat n smooth (used in emphasizing a comparison) an even more of an unexpected oddity, even as she spoke, we entered level n steady, almost upright as if in a rough sea in a ship for sailing, with a bowspirit and at least three square rigged masts, each composed of lower,top, and topgallant members. Our fellow members have gathered greedily into the ceremonious hall outside the window behind the peeping man reflecting out of and back at a glass globe held in her hand beckoning the faithful in a foregoing story closed within the symbol of the people we were and the words composed by a queen whom longed for pleasure in repeating destiny.
Handcuffed Flowers - A Rehearsal # 1
Put up with nothing
They Handcuffed the Flowers - A Rehearsal # 2
"Never before, when it is life itself that is in question, has there been so much talk of civilization and culture. And there is a curious parallel between this generalized collapse of life at the root of our present demoralization and our concern for a culture which has never been coincident with life, which in fact has been devised to tyrannize over life."
---- Antonin Artaud
Handcuffed Flowers - A Rehearsal # 3
Non-breeder and breeder separation. In the far future, millions of years from now, the earth becomes flat due to a shift in gravitational pull and a giant black hole turning our galaxy lenticular. The ones in the beginning who were wrong were made correct millions of years later. Long after humans (due to their breeding and non-breeding ways and discriminations) evolved into an ecto goo plasma sliding or dripping over the edges of our flat earth into the blank void of the universe. Like spooge sliding over the edge of a toilet bowl into the great flush of life/death.