13 July 2008:
|
Here is a sample of a backing rhythm for Tenue Labrum Cunei. The percussion (apart from the bass drum) is vocalized by Alfred, Thorfinn and Informal.
|
| comments (0) :: Post A Comment! :: Permanent Link |
It’s been quite a while since I made an entry here. Among other reasons, I’ve been quite unwell for much of the time. A partial list of some recent musical uploads can be found at the Deadman home-page.
Art, Nudes and DeviantsI provide below some words to a little rap I wrote following the recent outcry over pictures of naked, young girls in art galleries and on the covers of arty magazines. As you’ll see below, the hysterical response from the Australian Prime Minister, and the like, seems to provide a tenue labrum cunei—a thin edge of the wedge—, whereby prigs, prudes, puritans and nanny-staters try to control all aspects of erotic behaviour. Not only do I suggest that one man’s heat is another man’s frisson, or, in other words, what some bloke think be really hot, another cove would argue not, but I apprehend that some pious, self-appointed protectors of innocence have a warped and misanthropic view of human sexuality. I may yet record this one of these days; until, then, imagine for yourself, if you like, a sttandard rap rhythm whereupon you can chant the words yourself. (The stress is iambic throughout, by the way—thus, for instance, a line below should be stressed “ought we to ban each cat- a- logue”.) You’ll notice, I hope, that in my rap you’ll find no sexist or racialist calumniation, contumely or self-aggrandizement. or de gustibus non est disputandum Nam castum esse decet pium poetam
I.ipsum, versiculos nihil necesse'st. (Catullus, C. xvi, 5-6.) “Frankly, I can’t stand this stuff.” (Kevin Rudd) There is no image pure and chaste that won’t find some perverted taste: some men may tremble at those sights of lissome lasses in their whites, and some derive the keenest joy from pictures of a well-dressed boy; some welcome junk-mail with a grin who favour photographs therein, and, shunning models, others stare at images of underwear. Ought we to ban each catalogue which might set even one agog, and should we censor magazines. which could be used for carnal means? Thus, if we prove a paedophile has found some joy in Country Style, and often reads, with foul intent, say, Inside Film or Monument, the Lancet, Mad, the Village Voice, Get Up and Go, Computer Choice, perhaps some quarterly reviews or Australasian Transport News, Down Under Quilts or Marie Claire, ought we to burn them then and there? II. Some folk would censor views of skin in case someone be led to sin, insisting children be unseen until the age of, say, nineteen unless they be completely dressed in what some imam might suggest. Now I, for one, should think it mad to care too much how we are clad and freely own that I’d not care if nearby females wandered bare. (Yes, female nudes are fine by me from, say, thirteen to forty-three— acknowledging that some look fine well past the age of forty-nine.) But I digress. The point I make is this: that if an artist take a picture of a willing lass it should not lead to some crevasse in public structures and laments of how our bodies cause offence. We really should not let some prudes promote such killjoy attitudes. If we ban nudes, then what is next? First goes the picture, then the text. III. Investigations could be made into the literary trade. Some paraphiliacs, we’re told are drawn to many tales of old in Ovid, Homer and, of course, in Vergil, with the wooden horse, and other poets, now obscure, who evidently were not pure. How Zeus appeared to Danaë appeals to urophiles they say; the zoöphiliacs enjoy the myth of how a smart decoy enabled Pasiphaë’s plan to be a taurine courtesan; Catullus’ Carmen 63— oh, keep that fury far from me— has been, bizarrely, known to please men wanting orchidectomies; some epigrams of Martial, too, attract a certain, cultured few; and scholars find depravity inside the Greek Anthology: go read therein* and you might pale at what the poets dared retail. * In some editions of that work translators felt obliged to shirk the task of giving English form to practices outside the norm; they chose instead to put the Greek in Latin, to protect the meek. IV. Like charity, the paederast begins at home; from first to last he tries to find an easy prey and rarely (the statistics say) will venture from his comfort zone; and yet the media intone that careful parents ought to fear the ugly stranger, not those near. A naked picture of a child will lead to—what? A man go wild? No, what they often fear he’ll do, I think, is sin-by-hand thereto; but wherefore modes of private fun would need concern another one (unless a child were harmed, of course, or had been photographed by force) is not so clear to me. Indeed, the goads to yearning, spurs of need, are manifold and passing strange, and there is clearly quite a range of ordinary things which might, to some, bestow a great delight though leaving others unimpressed. Some folk esteem old footwear best, and some will even get their rocks off with a pair of cotton socks, and, as I said before, some stare at photographs of underwear. … De gustibus, then, I conclude, they should not be contemned as rude.† V. The ones whom you call sick might view as perverts those who act like you; if you yourself want liberty, you must allow the same for me. © 2008 |
| comments (1) :: Post A Comment! :: Permanent Link |
I've added a new, slight ditty, Hands and Knees to Macidol. It's meant to be vaguely amusing. Many years ago a critic, after reading John Lennon’s recently published In His Own Write, opined that it made one reflect differently on Beatles songs, and suggested that, perhaps, when Lennon sang “I wanna hold your hand,” he wanted to bite it. I’m rather hoping that listeners will extract the ludicrously maximum amount of innuendo from Hands and Knees. |
| comments (0) :: Post A Comment! :: Permanent Link |
On Monday evening I recorded these two new songs: Twelve is a fairly long run through a twelve-bar, with all the guitar done in one take whereto I then added (contrary to my usual practice) the rhythm section and other instruments; I did it as a warm-up before recording Down by the Literary Riverside, a very short, vaguely traditional song which I adapted slightly, whereof the words are as follows: Down by the Literary Riverside |
| comments (0) :: Post A Comment! :: Permanent Link |
Last month, I bought some allegedly fresh eggs from the Fresh Fruit Market in Salamanca Place, Hobart. When I discovered that some were rotten, I sent an e-mail message to the Fresh Fruit Market which included the following:
I purchased a 900 g box of eighteen “Fresh Tasmanian Eggs” from you last Wednesday (18 April). Unfortunately, five of the allegedly fresh eighteen eggs were by no means fresh—they were,in fact, rotten. One egg was so not fresh that, upon being opened, revealed instead of a yellow yolk what appeared at first to be a brown and black Freddo. Fortunately, I opened the egg into an empty bowl and so did not spoil other food, but it emitted a noisome stench which made the entire kitchen far from pleasant. I do hope that this is not a common occurrence. I received a reply from the Fresh Fruit Market which said that my message had been forwarded to Pure Foods Eggs, the supplier, who had been asked to “respond to [my] email and work out how to reimburse [me] for the 18pk eggs.”
I had thought that it would be the vendor’s responsibility to reimburse me, but at least the vendor had apologised; and I awaited a response from Pure Fresh Foods. After receiving no further communication, I sent a message a week later:
I thank you for your speedy reply to my message of last week. You said (inter alia): > Please email us back if you do not get a reply email [from Pure Foods Eggs]. I have not yet received any communication from Pure Foods Eggs. After waiting a month without receiving any further response, I decided to take stronger action. Accordingly, on the 27th of May I dashed off the music and words of the following song. I acknowledge that it might not be totally fair to Pure Foods Eggs—the nature of a sledging song is not particularly suited for impartial commentary—and, after all, the company did provide some good eggs in its carton; but, though my carton of eggs had some good ones, I have no wish to purchase a curate’s egg-carton; call me picky if you will, but I should as lief buy cartons of eggs which contain only good eggs and absolutely no bad ones.
Pure Foods Eggs Are Bad An mp3 file of this song, by Pedicabo Vos & Irrumabo, can be downloaded from Macidol; and you can also listen to an mp3 file of the song’s chorus sung by Alfred (aged ten, mainly on the left channel) and Thorfinn (aged seven, mainly on the right channel) here:
8 June ’07: update I received an e-mail message today from the Salamanca Fresh Food Market asking for my name, e-mail address and telephone number (which I did immediately supply—though I had already provided these details, which can also be located readily in the telephone book and on-line); and I saw the posting, in the comments section below, allegedly sent by Pure Foods Eggs, that Pure Foods Eggs had been unable to contact me. I therefore sent my addresses and telephone number to that e-mail address too; but, as you can see by reading the second comment below, that e-mail was undeliverable. In case you were wondering, the links here, such as the one which says “e-mail Deadman,” do work. 8 June ’07: further update I just spoke on the telephone to Ian Jongschaap, of Pure Foods Eggs, who apologised for the rotten eggs I had bought and for the delay in contacting me. (See also the third comment in the comments section below.) He sought details of the rotten eggs, and explained how a rare slip in quality might occur in their usually excellent quality-control process. I may have to change the name of this song to “Pure Foods Eggs Are Only Occasionally Bad,” or even “Pure Foods Eggs Are Actually Quite All Right.” This requires more thought, and I’ll come back to this again. Meanwhile, I welcome your suggestions. It does seem unikely, now, that I’ll be issuing a dance-mix of the song on CD. 15 June ’07: further update I today received a carton of nice new, fresh eggs from Ian Jongschaap of Pure Foods Eggs (as well as a lovely shirt and cap which Alfred and I model below). We discussed, among other things, the likelihood that I shall rewrite the words to the “Pure Foods Eggs” song and, without being pressured in any way whatsoever, I was happy to say that I shall probably soon record another version (or even a different song entirely) with words more complimentary to Pure Foods Eggs and its sterling products. ![]() ![]() |
| comments (4) :: Post A Comment! :: Permanent Link |
I received the following notice in my mail-box today (along with a brochure which I tossed into the rubbish bin without reading):
![]() Some unthinking, narrow-minded people may consider that this notice smacks of hypocrisy: “after all,” these foolish boobs might say, “don’t people purchase ‘No Junk Mail’ stickers—often from The Wilderness Society—in the expectation that it will prevent all junk mail from infesting their letterboxes once affixed thereon? Is it not hypocritical when an organisation, such as The Wilderness Society, which loudly and regularly calls for laws and regulations to be enforced in the cases of other people and corporations, is not itself prepared to comply with laws, regulations, rules and conventions?” Sadly, these unreflective dopes fail to realise that The Wilderness Society and its members are special, and are fighting for what is right, and need not obey any direction from any authority or individual citizen which goes counter to their own deeply intuitive ideas. That The Wilderness Society is special, and right, and may therefore ignore anything it deems inconvenient does, of course, set an example for other special people to follow: you too, if you are walking your dog, may allow it to crap on the footpath, and leave the turds there to inconvenience other pedestrians, in contravention of the law, if you think that you’re special and would rather not dispose of the faeces properly; you too, if you wish said canine to roam around the playground near the children playing, despite the signs announcing a prohibition of dogs’ being within ten meters of the slides and swings, and you think that you’re special, need only write a note saying so, and you may act as you list; if you wish to exceed the speed limits, to drive on the wrong side of the road, to take cuttings of plants from any public land, to nail signs to trees, to sell bottles of wine without adequate labelling to denote what sort of product be within and whether potentially lethal preservatives have been added thereto, to perform terminations of pregnancy in your kitchen, or, in short, if you wish to do absolutely anything which seems necessary or convenient or fun, and you think that you’re special and that the rules need not apply to you, just write a little note saying so and go right ahead. [added later:] Some may query why The Wilderness Society—which, apparently, does not approve of logging trees only for them to be converted into paper which in turn is used for brochures and leaflets which are thrown into rubbish bins without their being read—still prints its propaganda when it would be far cheaper to publish on websites and to spend considerably less of their funds on then publicising its URLs. The silly people who would pose such ridiculous questions are probably unable to see the subtle irony of The Wilderness Society’s wasting of resources which that organisation expects the public to appreciate and, then, to lament. |
| comments (0) :: Post A Comment! :: Permanent Link |
since I last posted an entry on this blog--back when it had a different web address, before the evil telecommunications company enforced the change of name--; I’ve added a few more songs to the Macidol site, and I’ve also established another site at myspace.
|
| comments (0) :: Post A Comment! :: Permanent Link |
"Even in sports, the world has caught us"by Sandy Grady (from yahunews- opinion)
Well, since he asks: No. |
| comments (0) :: Post A Comment! :: Permanent Link |
| I Want to Smell You, a burlesque version of The Beatles’ I Want to Tell You, is now available. |
| comments (0) :: Post A Comment! :: Permanent Link |
A little ditty about a ditsy Dr Greer who recently opined that the accidental death of the late Steve Irwin was the animal kingdom’s revenge for his ‘disrespect’ towards animals.
Pedicabo Vos & Irrumabo at Macidol |
| comments (0) :: Post A Comment! :: Permanent Link |
| From yahoonews:
A Mr. B. Pitt says he won’t be marrying a Ms. A. Jolie until the restrictions on who can marry whom are dropped. “Angie and I will consider tying the knot when everyone else in the country who wants to be married is legally able,” the 42-year-old actor reveals in Esquire magazine's October issue, on newsstands Sept. 19. What a marvellous example. Likewise, I shan’t obtain a driver's licence until all who want to obtain one may; I shan’t drink in licensed hostelries until anyone who wants to drink therein may; I shan’t buy a firearm until anyone who wants to buy one may; and, following the lead which Mr Pitt and Ms Jolie are doublessly setting, I shan’t drink clean water, eat nutritious food, travel internationally, read a good book, pay more for a house than the cost of maintaining a third-world village for a year, buy necessary medication at a reasonable cost, stay in four-star hotels, accept gratuitous luxuries from sycophants, spend days on end travelling for no real purpose, idle, talk crap to media outlets, accept disgustingly high salaries for appearing in mediocre motion pictures, or live with someone as if married (and according to many jurisdictions be, de facto, married) until ... |
| comments (0) :: Post A Comment! :: Permanent Link |
From yahonews:
In news at home, I’ve started fixing the Latin Verbs page at the Later Latin Society site, beginning with abstineo. |
| comments (0) :: Post A Comment! :: Permanent Link |
Greetings. Listen to some demo versions of some Deadman Turner songs at MacIdol. Links are also at the informalmusic homepage at informalmusic.com. Farewell ![]() |
| comments (0) :: Post A Comment! :: Permanent Link |
this blogrecent poststenue labrum cunei (III)tenue labrum cunei (II) A Rap: tenue labrum cunei Hands and Knees Down by the Literary Riverside & Twelve linkshomeview my profile archives friends e-mail Deadman this blog's RSS informalmusic the Later Latin Society the Thomas Love Peacock Society B&Massa's Filthy Noises the Powers that Be blank space |
|
page 1 of 1 last page | next page |