I’m unable to give a plug for the Queensland Poetry Festival this year, because I scurried away from it tonight when I perceived the degree of fashion crime that was committed by festival goers – the worst of op shop garb, and I hesitate to mention the headgear… Mao caps!
However, happily, there was a rival poetry event organised for a fine Brisvegas Saturday night – Poetry after Dark at The Zoo. My friend Kelly and I thoroughly enjoyed the evening. Though we were a bit puzzled as to why line dancing featured so prominently, and we didn’t see any of the promised “live body painting”. The entire evening appeared to be a celebration of the rapidly burgeoning Rockabilly subculture of 2006, which is again all good, as the music and fashion and dancing are all cool. The connection to poetry is a bit puzzling, but I have no doubt it’s a fabulous thing. Though I would like to be enlightened as to why Rockabilly is the new subculture of cool in the mid 2000s (and with a more persuasive reason than that it’s more fun than Emo)?
<img src="http://larvatusprodeo.net/wp-content/uploads/2006/08/swingd68.jpg"
Anyway, it’s probably hard to capture in a single post exactly how many bounds of (albeit pleasurable) weirdness this night of (not much actual) poetry in Brisvegas transgressed… But over the fold, it might be appropriate to post some Emily Bronte…
Stars
Ah! why, because the dazzling sun
Restored our Earth to joy,
Have you departed, every one,
And left a desert sky?All through the night, your glorious eyes
Were gazing down in mine,
And, with a full heart’s thankful sighs,
I blessed that watch divine.I was at peace, and drank your beams
As they were life to me;
And revelled in my changeful dreams,
Like petrel on the sea.Thought followed thought, star followed star,
Through boundless regions, on;
While one sweet influence, near and far,
Thrilled through, and proved us one!Why did the morning dawn to break
So great, so pure, a spell;
And scorch with fire the tranquil cheek,
Where your cool radiance fell?Blood-red, he rose, and, arrow-straight,
His fierce beams struck my brow;
The soul of nature sprang, elate,
But mine sank sad and low!My lids closed down, yet through their veil
I saw him, blazing, still,
And steep in gold the misty dale,
And flash upon the hill.I turned me to the pillow, then,
To call back night, and see
Your worlds of solemn light, again,
Throb with my heart, and me!It would not do–the pillow glowed,
And glowed both roof and floor;
And birds sang loudly in the wood,
And fresh winds shook the door;The curtains waved, the wakened flies
Were murmuring round my room,
Imprisoned there, till I should rise,
And give them leave to roam.Oh, stars, and dreams, and gentle night;
Oh, night and stars, return!
And hide me from the hostile light
That does not warm, but burn;That drains the blood of suffering men;
Drinks tears, instead of dew;
Let me sleep through his blinding reign,
And only wake with you!
Nice Bronte.
It’s the frocks, Mark. It’s all about the frocks.
<img src="http://site.babygirlboutique.com/stopstaring/sexy_girl.jpg"
And the strange small dogs.
But it is more fun than emo….
Cute pics. I never knew Emily Bronte was so hawwwwwwwt!
I wonder if anybody has written a thesis on the symbolism – sexual or otherwise – of small dogs in mid-twentieth century culture?
Well, I’ve never been to an emo club, Tony. Some friends of mine went earlier in the year because a New Romantics revival night was promised, but I gather the atmosphere was, well, dull. Last night was a lot of fun, despite being a bit odd.
My impression is that there always has been a rockabilly subculture loitering on the fringes with the occasional, more mainstream exposure. I remember a Junior Brown show in the late 90s at the Metro and it was full of rockabilly types. My impression is that it is not anything really new.
But I do know emo is on the way out. It was announced by a young girl on the train from Gosford to the the city the other morning. In conversation with friends she told to the whole carriage “I’m so not EMO!”
There you have it.
I think it’s a bit bigger than it was, Shaun.
I’m sadly out of touch these days with subcultures I admit. But is rockabilly is becoming bigger then that is great as the style is a lot of fun.
But line dancing? The rockabilly hipsters I’ve encountered were more into swing dancing and more individualistic boot scooting. That seems a little strange to me.
There was a lot of swing dancing, Shaun.
But there was also a bit of an alt.country feel to the poetry – two women from Tamworth (or maybe not, perhaps it was a persona to go with the verse).
I think a lot of the night reflected the aesthetic choices of the organiser, Mandy Beaumont:
http://www.mandybeaumont.com/mandy_beaumont/index.html
‘Cos Rockabilly Rocks’ …
Mick Strummer August 2006
I must also mention that the line dancers are known as the “Hottie Hoedown Gals”. Just sayin…
A few years ago, I met Les Murray, and during the conversation asked him about poetry festivals. His view was that while some were good, most poetry readings consisted of received wisdom rather than new ideas. How did PADTZ stack up on that test?
Andrew, it’s a good question – PADTZ probably stacks up rather well as it’s more of a multi-media integrated event than a poetry festival – and the genre is probably spoken word performance rather than trad poetry. My experience of the Qld Poetry Festival in past years has been that it’s not terribly exciting (with some notable exceptions) and seems to be a bit cliquey.
Here is the live body painting I found when googling http://www.emblazon.net.au/
Also i saw lots of poetry on the night and heard it to. THe toilets where filled with it, signs everywhere around the venue, buckets filled with poetry , some thing called the pomonter or something, zines and readings – it was a top night. i also believe that the “tamworth” girls where in character