The autumn years of Ginsberg's life saw him go from hell-raising revolutionary to cultural institution — including his winning the National Book Award in 1973 (the same year he was admitted into the American Academy of Arts and Letters), and the publication, in 1984, of a handsome Collected Poems: 1947-1980 (which makes up about two-thirds of the volume we're using presently), along with a wide array of his journals, correspondence, essays and interviews. In the late 1950s, his alma mater, Columbia University, wouldn't even buy a copy of Howl and Other Poems for its library, but a little over a decade later, Ginsberg had received some of the highest literary acclaim afford to American writers.
Of course, just because Ginsberg had been accepted by the mainstream didn't mean that his personal or political ambitions became any more quaint. Upon being invited to join the American Academy of Arts and Letters, for example, he immediate began lobbying for his friends and peers to receive the same honor, eventually seeing William S. Burroughs join the organization as well. He continued to criticize injustice a abuse of power wherever he saw it, in poems like "Plutonian Ode," "The Little Fish Devours the Big Fish" and "Numbers in U.S. File Cabinet (Death Waits to be Executed)," right up to the end of his life, when he greeted the election of Democrat Bill Clinton with a list of demands, "New Democracy Wish List."
This period was also marked by a growing awareness of his own mortality. Ginsberg had already mourned his mother, Naomi, and friends including Neal Cassady and Jack Kerouac, and in the mid-70s, he'd also lose his father, Louis, but in the process, write some of the finest, most moving poetry of his later years. Ginsberg faced each new change in his life with a an unfaltering sense of self-awareness, and tracked his evolving role in society, in his relationships with friends and lovers, and natural process of aging (and eventually death) in some of the poems we'll read for Thursday.
Finally, it's interesting to note the passage of time and the cultural change that comes with it. In Ginsberg's poetry of the 1960s, we see the Beat Generation be surpassed by a new youth counterculture (colloquially known as hippies, though as my friend Diane DeRooy once observed, the only people who called themselves hippies were suburbanites who bought their clothes at Sears). In this week's readings, that period gives way to one of Nixon-era spiritual and political malaise, followed by the youthful rebellion of punk rock, Reagan's conservative stranglehold and a reemergence of socially-conscious youth in the 1990s. We can see these evolutions reflected in Ginsberg's work, can trace their roots back to ideologies he first put forward, and he happily embraced each new mode, whether that would find him on tour with Bob Dylan or sharing the stage with the Clash. The young Ginsberg who celebrated seeing the Beatles in concert in "Portland Coliseum" would have close ties to the world of popular music until the end of his life.
Of course, just because Ginsberg had been accepted by the mainstream didn't mean that his personal or political ambitions became any more quaint. Upon being invited to join the American Academy of Arts and Letters, for example, he immediate began lobbying for his friends and peers to receive the same honor, eventually seeing William S. Burroughs join the organization as well. He continued to criticize injustice a abuse of power wherever he saw it, in poems like "Plutonian Ode," "The Little Fish Devours the Big Fish" and "Numbers in U.S. File Cabinet (Death Waits to be Executed)," right up to the end of his life, when he greeted the election of Democrat Bill Clinton with a list of demands, "New Democracy Wish List."
This period was also marked by a growing awareness of his own mortality. Ginsberg had already mourned his mother, Naomi, and friends including Neal Cassady and Jack Kerouac, and in the mid-70s, he'd also lose his father, Louis, but in the process, write some of the finest, most moving poetry of his later years. Ginsberg faced each new change in his life with a an unfaltering sense of self-awareness, and tracked his evolving role in society, in his relationships with friends and lovers, and natural process of aging (and eventually death) in some of the poems we'll read for Thursday.
Finally, it's interesting to note the passage of time and the cultural change that comes with it. In Ginsberg's poetry of the 1960s, we see the Beat Generation be surpassed by a new youth counterculture (colloquially known as hippies, though as my friend Diane DeRooy once observed, the only people who called themselves hippies were suburbanites who bought their clothes at Sears). In this week's readings, that period gives way to one of Nixon-era spiritual and political malaise, followed by the youthful rebellion of punk rock, Reagan's conservative stranglehold and a reemergence of socially-conscious youth in the 1990s. We can see these evolutions reflected in Ginsberg's work, can trace their roots back to ideologies he first put forward, and he happily embraced each new mode, whether that would find him on tour with Bob Dylan or sharing the stage with the Clash. The young Ginsberg who celebrated seeing the Beatles in concert in "Portland Coliseum" would have close ties to the world of popular music until the end of his life.
Here, for example, is the line-up from a San Francisco concert in December 1996, where Ginsberg appeared along alt-rock superstars like Beck, the Chemical Brothers, the Lemonheads and Fiona Apple. The following day, he did an interview with Hotwired (an online web journal related to Wired magazine) and saw the internet for the first time (his take on it: "Thank God I don't know how to work this!"). Around the same time, Ginsberg took part in a discussion/interview with Beck, published in the Buddhist magazine Shambhala Sun with the unfortunate subtitle, "A Beat/Slacker Transgenerational Meeting of Minds."
Here's our reading list to bring our time with Ginsberg to a close:
- Don't Grow Old (659): excerpt, "Father Death Blues": MP3
- Plutonian Ode (710): MP3
- Don't Grow Old (718)
- Brooklyn College Brain (725)
- After Whitman and Reznikoff (740)
- Ode to Failure (745)
- Why I Meditate (851)
- Do the Meditation Rock (863): MP3
- The Little Fish Devours the Big Fish (865): MP3
- I'm a Prisoner of Allen Ginsberg (882)
- Prophecy (915)
- Sphincter (950)
- Personals Ad (970): MP3
- Numbers in U.S. File Cabinet (Death Waits to be Executed) (982)
- Return of Kral Majales (984)
- After the Big Parade (1010)
- After Lalon (1019): MP3
- Put Down Your Cigarette Rag (Don't Smoke) (1029)
- Autumn Leaves (1046)
- New Democracy Wish List (1063)
- New Stanzas for Amazing Grace (1080)
- The Ballad of the Skeletons (1091)
- "You know what I'm saying?" (1096)
- Death and Fame (1129)
- Things I'll Not Do (Nostalgias) (1160)
And here are more than a few supplemental videos:
Ginsberg sings "Father Death Blues"
"Put Down Your Cigarette Rag (Don't Smoke)"
Ginsberg sings "Father Death Blues"
"Put Down Your Cigarette Rag (Don't Smoke)"
Ginsberg's video (shown on MTV's "Buzz Bin" and at the Sundance Film Festival) for "The Ballad of the Skeletons," directed by Gus Van Sant and featuring musical accompaniment by Paul McCartney, Lenny Kaye and Philip Glass
Ginsberg (with Steven Taylor on guitar and Arthur Russell on cello) performs "Do the Meditation Rock" on Good Morning, Mr. Orwell, Nam June Paik's live satellite TV celebration of New Year's 1984 (which is astoundingly great). That's Peter Orlovsky meditating, by the way.
Ginsberg performs "Capitol Air" with live accompaniment by the Clash
"Ghetto Defendent," also by Ginsberg and the Clash
MTV's obituary for Ginsberg
Here are two more films that can't be embedded:
- experimental filmmaker Jonas Mekas' Scenes from Allen's Last Three Days on Earth as a Spirit documents the scene just before and after Ginsberg's passing in 1997, including conversations with those who've gathered to send their friend off [note: this can be a challenging and emotional film to watch]
- "Face to Face with Jeremy Isaacs," an interview (1995)
And finally:
No comments:
Post a Comment