Showing posts with label ian curtis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ian curtis. Show all posts

7 Jul 2026

No, Jasmine, Cliff Richard Isn't Cool

Cover of the debut album by Cliff Richard and his band 
the Drifters (later known as the Shadows) 
Columbia (EMI) (1959) 
 
I. 
 
The latest edition of SIG News (#5 2026) contains a provocative piece by Jasmine Howard [1] reflecting on one of her pop heroes. 
 
In it, she poses the question: 'Is Cliff Richard cool?' and attempts to play devil woman's advocate by making the case for the so-called Peter Pan of Pop [2]. 
 
Howard is, of course, by no means the first person to do this. Back in 2013, for example, Kiwi author Tim Roxborough claimed not to care if others thought Cliff uncool, writing: 
 
"Cliff may be celibate, he may annoy some with his public professions of his Christian faith [...] and he may have had a knack for singing Christmas number one hits that sap the tragically hip's will to live. But get passed [sic] that and he's the owner of one of the finest, most adaptable voices in popular music history." [3]
 
More recently, Stuart Penny also wrote a few words in defence of Sir Cliff:
 
"I know what you're thinking. With his goody two-shoes image and cringeworthy Wimbledon tennis rain break singalongs, the Peter Pan of Pop may have been hopelessly, desperately, terminally uncool for more than half a century, but it wasn't always that way." [4] 
      
In for a pound, Penny continues:
 
"I'm not ashamed to say that before the Beatles and Dylan, before discovering electric blues, folk, jazz and psychedelia, in fact before just about every other kind of music I grew to cherish, Cliff was my guy. The infatuation didn't last much beyond late 1962 and the arrival of the Fab Four, it's true, but his early singles, some of which were (and remain) excellent slabs of well-produced 60s pop, will always have a special place in my heart." [5]  
 
 
II. 
 
As I think is clear, even his biggest fans and would-be defenders concede that Cliff isn't cool. 
 
Talented, good-looking, clean-cut, devoted to his God and to his mother Dorothy, but not cool - an aesthetic quality that relates not only to appearance and style, but to attitude and behaviour (and so is more than merely being trendy or fashionable). 
 
Much like art, cool is notoriously difficult to define. But even if you can't quite describe it, you know it when you see it - and you also know what it isn't (and Cliff isn't it). 
 
Malcolm McLaren used to say that the coolest thing he'd ever seen was when Edward Tudor-Pole walked on stage auditioning to be the new lead singer with the Sex Pistols and flipped a cigarette in the air, caught it on his foot, and then flicked it into his mouth. And that is pretty cool - thus not something one can ever imagine Cliff doing (unsurprisingly, he doesn't smoke).   

Essentially, cool is tied to evil; to rebels, gangsters, rockers, and all those unconstrained by authority and who live in defiance of rules and conventions. 
 
Having said that, the idea of cool has now been fully recuperated and coolness is now mostly a marketing strategy; something manufactured and sold by those looking to capitalise on trends and subcultures. In fact, some commentators argue that cool is the central ideology of consumer capitalism.   
 
And so, ironically, it may be the case that the coolest people today are those who reject the stereotype and cliché of coolness entirely (though, sorry Jasmine, that still doesn't include Cliff - a man who, despite his name, completely lacks edge). 
 
 
III. 
 
In her effort to puzzle out why Cliff is considered so uncool, Ms Howard compares his career and public image to that of Elvis - which is certainly a brave and bold (some might say foolhardy) move, not least because Presley is incomparable as an artist in terms of cultural impact, vocal versatility, and his on-stage presence. The fact that he piled on the pounds in his final years - as Cliff was only too quick to point out [6] - does nothing to detract from his unique genius.    
 
Even Howard's claim that Cliff was "just as successful as Elvis" [7] - from a purely statistical perspective (i.e., in terms of record sales and UK number one singles) - doesn't quite add up. 
 
For whilst Cliff undeniably commands a spectacular chart legacy as the only artist to score a UK number-one single across five consecutive decades (from the 1950s to the 1990s), he remains firmly in the King's shadow when we look at the Official UK Charts' historic tally. 
 
Cliff has a highly respectable fourteen number-one singles; but Elvis has a staggering twenty-one UK number one hits. Further, whilst Cliff has sold over 250 million records worldwide across his 68-year career, this figure is dwarfed by the more than one billion Elvis records sold.
 
To claim parity when it comes to their commercial success is therefore inaccurate - and also, we might add, when did commercial success and longevity as an artist ever equate with cool or relevance? Some of the coolest singers hardly troubled the charts and died young (Ian Curtis is an obvious example). 
 
Cliff's ability to score number-one hits across several decades is a testament to an aging, fiercely loyal fanbase and clever marketing, not cultural impact. David Bowie also sold a lot of records and had a long career, but he redefined music, fashion, and societal norms, whilst Cliff remained artistically stagnant; his later chart-toppers were not driven by musical innovation, but by novelty appeal and seasonal sentimentality, such as 'Mistletoe and Wine'. 
 
  
IV. 
  
Apart from his commercial success and longevity, attempts to defend Cliff as cool are also often based upon his early days as a credible rock 'n' roller who opened the way for British pop music and his national treasure status. 
 
Let's briefly examine each of these points ...
 
Firstly, it's true that his 1958 hit debut single 'Move It' (written by Ian Samwell) might be viewed as marking the birth of British rock 'n' roll, as acknowledged by John Lennon and many others. However, Cliff almost immediately abandoned his leather-jacketed persona and within a few years transitioned into a safe, sanitised, family-friendly performer who happily established himself in the world of light entertainment and Eurovision.  
 
Thus, if Cliff paved the way, it was a road that subsequent generations of British rockers were desperate to veer off. For the punk generation in particular, Cliff was the ultimate symbol of establishment compliance and everything they hated about Top of the Pops (it will come as no surprise to discover that he made more appearances on the iconic BBC music show than any other solo artist, with over 150 performances).   
 
As for his national treasure status, which rests on the idea that he's basically a good egg, even this might be questioned in light of his politically suspect views on women in the workplace and parenting, for example [8]. Coolness may involve a degree of studied indifference, but it also requires a degree of cultural sensitivity and Cliff has sometimes used his public platform to judge others from a position of detached privilege. 
 
Ultimately, his wholesome image disguises a rigid (often reactionary) moralism that may be Christian but isn't cool [9] - we don't like being lectured to by pious pop stars, thank you very much.        
 
 
V. 
 
Finally, I'd like to remind Jasmine - a canny lass from the North East of England [10] - of a famously surprising televised encounter between her hero, Cliff, and Thomas (Mensi) Mensforth, the lead singer of South Shields punk band the Angelic Upstarts [11]. 
 
Rather than playing along with the polite banter expected by mainstream television, the fiercely intelligent punk vocalist confronted the Peter Pan of Pop over his privileged celebrity status and his religious faith. However, if producers had hoped for an explosive, foul-mouthed slanging match, they were disappointed. 
 
While Cliff spoke of personal salvation and his pop career, Mensi steered the debate toward systemic political issues: religious sectarianism, police brutality, and social deprivation. He emerged as someone who genuinely cared about the contemporary world around him, rather than what had occurred in the Holy Land two thousand years prior. 
 
All Cliff's tried-and-tested defence mechanisms - polite smiles, deflection, and breezy showbiz charisma -proved useless against the raw passion of Mensi’s arguments. The Peter Pan of Pop was exposed as having little concern for the struggles of everyday people in Thatcher's Britain.  
 
  
Notes
 
[1] Edited by Russ Bestley, Tim Gibney, Kevin Quinn, and Roger Sabin, Sig News brings the work of the Subcultures Interest Group (SIG) to a wider audience. Operating out of the University of the Arts London (UAL), this diverse, informal collective focuses broadly on the politics of style. The publication offers an eclectic mix of articles by a disparate group of authors from both within and outside UAL. For more information, click here
      Postgraduate student Jasmine Howard wrote her MA dissertation on class and clothing in the North East of England in the mid-late 1960s; see the post on Torpedo the Ark dated 30 March 2025 in which I discussed her granny, my mother, and the likely lasses: click here.   
       
[2] This nickname is not a self-styling coined by Richard himself, nor one he particularly cares for as it creates pressure upon him to always appear youthful when performing on stage before his fans. It was actually coined by music journalist Keith Altham of the NME in 1972 and was quickly taken up by the press and public alike. 
 
[3] Tim Roxborough, 'Why Cliff Richard Is Much Cooler Than You Think', The Roxborough Report (26 January 2013): click here
      Roxborough goes on to inform his readers that as well as having a great voice Cliff is also "said to be one of Britain's most generous philanthropists", saying that this is important when considering Richard the man and not just Richard the artist. 
      I might point out, however, that philanthropy is a contentious issue. Whilst it directs resources to worthy causes, it can also function as a tool for the wealthy to virtue signal and ease their conscience. It can also allow donors power over social agendas while providing them with significant tax benefits.   
 
[4] Stuart Penney, 'A Few Words In Defence Of Sir Cliff Richard', And Now ... It's All This! (21 August 2025): click here
 
[5] Ibid.
 
[6] During an appearance on ITV's This Morning (20 Nov 2023), Cliff was asked if he had ever met Elvis: he hadn't. But he revealed that he had once turned down an opportunity to do so and be pictured with Presley on the grounds that the latter had put on a lot of weight and no longer looked as good as he had in his prime. 
      Probably to his surprise, the comment immediately went viral and caused a massive uproar. Viewers of the show accused him of fat-shaming and were particularly upset that he made the comments whilst sitting next to popular host Alison Hammond, a plus-sized presenter. This is just one of several occasions in which Cliff - usually known for his polite and overly cautious public persona - came across as tactless and uncool, sparking controversy.  
 
[7] Jasmine Howard, 'Is Cliff Richard Cool?', SIG News 5 (1 Sept 2026), p. 12. 

[8] In a controversial 1994 interview with Bella magazine, the Bachelor Boy claimed that women cannot successfully juggle both careers and children. He also blamed working mothers for the breakdown of discipline in society. These remarks drew sharp criticism from the public and parenting organisations at the time, with representatives from groups like Parents at Work dismissing his comments as 'complete and utter nonsense'. 
 
[9] Amusingly, Cliff even managed to alienate sections of the Christian community in 1999 when he set the words of the 'Lord's Prayer' to the tune of 'Auld Lang Syne'. The resulting record - titled 'The Millennium Prayer' - was almost universally loathed by music critics, but, more surprisingly, various church leaders and Christian commentators condemned it as a gimmicky and cynical exploitation of faith for commercial chart success (even though Cliff donated the proceeds to charity).

[10] As the child of parents from Tyneside - my father was born in Gateshead and my mother in Whitley Bay - I trust I am allowed to say this without sounding patronising. 
 
[11] The meeting between Sir Cliff and Mensi was recorded by Anglia Television for an episode of the late-night religious and current affairs series Something Different (hosted by Stewart White) and was broadcast on 25 January 1980 (or early March in some ITV regions). Click here to watch an excerpt on YouTube (as preserved by Wayback Machine, the Internet Archive).    
 
 
Musical bonus: Angelic Upstarts, 'The Young Ones', from the album Teenage Warning (Warner Bros., 1979): click here. The track also featured as the B-side to the single 'Teenage Warning' (1979), which reached No. 29 in the UK charts.
      The song, written by Sid Tepper and Roy C. Bennett, was made famous by Cliff Richard and the Shadows and is the title song to the 1961 film The Young Ones (dir. Sidney J. Furie). 
      With advance orders of over 500,000, it was released in January 1962 on the Columbia (EMI) label and went straight to No. 1 in the UK Singles Chart (the first British single to do so since Elvis Presley's 'It's Now or Never' in November 1960). It held that position for six weeks and spent twenty weeks in the chart overall, selling over a million copies in the UK, and 2.6 million copies worldwide.   
       
 

13 Nov 2023

Fragmented Remarks on Mark Fisher's Ghosts of My Life - Part 2: The Return of the 70s

Joy Division (L-R: Peter Hook / Ian Curtis / Bernard Sumner / Stephen Morris) 
 
 "Were they fallen angels or ordinary blokes?"
 
 
Any piece of writing entitled 'The Return of the 70s' is guaranteed to excite my interest; particularly one that understands 1979-80 to be a threshold moment when one world gave way to another. 
 
But, as is so often the case, expectations are rarely met and part of my frustration with Mr Fisher's work comes out of disappointment. It's not that he fails to deliver insightful commentary (and retrospective judgement) on the decade, more that his points of reference are so very different from mine; the books of John le Carré and David Peace, for example, are almost entirely unfamiliar to me [a]
 
Thus, here, I shall discuss only what Fisher says about post-punk favourites Joy Division and the grotesque figure of Jimmy Savile [b].  
 
 
I. 

Fisher opens his exploration of the 70s with the following statement: "If Joy Division matter now more than ever, it's because they capture the depressed spirit of our times." [c] 
 
Fisher wants (and probably expects) his readers to agree that: 
 
(i) pop groups in general have (socio-cultural and/or philosophical) significance ...
 
(ii) Joy Division in particular have growing (socio-cultural and/or philosophical) import ...
 
(iii) a state of despondent melancholia defines the Geist der Zeiten in which he was writing [d] ...
 
(iv) this depressed spirit can magically be captured (embodied and expressed) by a group of musicians (which essentially returns us to the first point).    
 
The problem is, I'm not sure I do agree with all (or even any) of these points. 
 
But let's say, for arguments sake, that, like Hegel, we accept the notion that there's a virtual agency determining the ideas and beliefs of a given epoch and that art reflects the culture of the era in which it is created (not least because artists are themselves a product of their time). 
 
That might be an argument for why art matters, but it still doesn't mean Joy Division are - or ever were - as important as Fisher insists; "more than a pop group, more than entertainment" [53].
 
I mean, don't get me wrong, I like Joy Division and even have a well-worn copy of their debut studio album Unknown Pleasures (Factory Records, 1979) in my record collection. But they're not the Beatles, or the Sex Pistols, when it comes to capturing (and transforming) the spirit of the times or channelling the future
 
These two groups - and perhaps only these two - were (to adopt and extend a term coined by Foucault) founders of discursivity (changing forever the way we think, speak, act, dress, etc.).
 
 
II. 
 
Fisher continues his piece on Joy Division by declaring them to be "the most Schopenhauerian of rock groups" [59]
 
By which one might assume he was simply referring to the fact that although they failed to have much success during their time as a band (1976-1980), they have exerted a wide-reaching influence ever since. But actually, Fisher means something much more interesting:
 
"What makes Joy Division so Schopenhauerian is the disjunction between [Ian] Curtis's detachment and the urgency of the music, its implacable drive standing in for the dumb insatiability of the life-Will [...] not experienced by the depressive as some redemptive positivity, but as the ultimate horror ..." [60]
 
Fisher expands on this:
 
"Joy Division followed Schopenhauer through the curtain of Maya [...] and dared to examine the hideous machineries that produce the world-as-appearance. What did they see there? Only what all depressives, all mystics, always see: the obscene undead twitching of the Will as it seeks to maintain the illusion that this object, the one it is fixated upon NOW [...] will satisfy it in a way that all other objects thus far have failed to do." [60] 
 
Joy Division see through things; they know - far more radically than the Rolling Stones - that there's never any satisfaction; that the true Schopenhaurien moments are those "in which you achieve your goals, perhaps realise your long-cherished heart's desire - and feel cheated, empty [...] voided [61].
 
This existential revelation - that we don't really want or need what we thought we most desperately wanted or needed and that even our most urgent desires "are only a filthy vitalist trick to keep the show on the road" [61] - is central to what Fisher calls depressive ontology.
 
 
III. 

The great debate over Joy Division, says Fisher, is this: "Were they fallen angels or ordinary blokes?" [63]
 
Alert to the blackmail of the either/or, Fisher doesn't take the Deleuzian option of neither/nor, but nor, like Bartleby, does he simply prefer not to say. Rather, he suggests we should hold on to both options; "the Joy Division of Pure Art, and the Joy Division who were 'just a laff'" [63]
 
In other words, we should be a little bit of a romantic aesthete and a little bit of a lumpen empiricist, insisting like the latter on the need to root the band's songs "back in the quotidian at its least elevated and [...] least serious" [63]
 
Fisher's reason for wanting to hold on to both versions of Joy Division is surprising (and moving): 
 
"For if the truth of Joy Division is that they were Lads, then Joy Division must also be the truth of Laddism. And so it would appear: beneath all the red-nosed downer-fuelled jollity of the past two decades, mental illness has increased some 70% amongst adolescents. Suicide remains one of the most common sources of death for young males." [63] [e]
 
 
IV. 
 
We'll never know what Mark Fisher would have made of Steve Coogan's portrayal of Jimmy Savile in the four-part TV drama The Reckoning (2023), though I suspect he would have found it as problematic as Michael Sheen's portrayal of Brian Clough in The Damned United (2009) and for pretty much the same reasons:
 
"The problem with Sheen's now well established approach to historical characters is that it deprives the film's world of any autonomous reality - everything is indexed to a reality external to the film, judged only by how well it matches our already existing image of the character, whether that be Clough, Kenneth Williams, Blair or Frost." [87]
 
An actor with "more courage and presence than Sheen might have reached beyond physical appearances to reach a truth [...] not accessible via the TV footage" [87]
 
As I say - and without wanting to put words into Fisher's dead mouth -  I suspect he would also condemn Coogan for simply offering an impression of Savile; perfectly competant as far as "mannerisms and verbal tics" [87] go, but "devoid of any of the tortured inner life" [87] that might have made Savile a more complex and more interesting character (although, arguably, what was so terrifying about Savile was his emptiness; the fact that there was a complete moral vacuum where one might have expected to find at least the remnants of a soul).
 
 
V.       
 
Fisher makes the intriguing suggestion that Jimmy Savile may have struck a deal with the Devil:
 
"You'll get to live out your life with your reputation intact [...], but a year after your death, it will all be destroyed. Nothing, absolutely nothing, will survive. Your headstone will be dismantled. The penthouse in which you lived will be demolished. Your name will become synonymous with evil." [88]
 
Although he was a professed Catholic, I think Savile would have happily struck such a bargain. 
 
In fact, one suspects that the thought of the truth finally being revealed after his death would have delighted him. For it confirms the fact that he got away with everything and made fools of everyone, including politicians, members of the royal family, and even Pope John Paul II, who awarded him a knighthood in 1990.   
 
People say Savile was hiding in plain sight, but, actually, it was more a case of no one really daring to look, or, if they did look, then they refused to believe the evidence of their own eyes. It was only in 2012 that the obscene truth began to leak out, "like a build-up of effluent that could no longer be contained" [88] - first seeping, then surging.  

By the end of that year, says Fisher, "the 70s was returning, no longer as some bittersweet nostalgia trip, but as trauma" [89] as  the world of light (entertainment) transformed into "the darkest horror" [90]. Not only did we have to accept the truth about Savile, we also had to reconsider our affection for Gary Glitter and even, in 2014, Rolf Harris [f]

Parents used to think they had to lock up their children when the Rolling Stones or the Sex Pistols came to town, but it was actually Jake the Peg (diddle-iddle-iddle-um) and uncle Jimmy they really should've kept an eye on (as it 'appens).   

But they didn't. And so Savile went on abusing his victims; young and old, male and female, dead or alive. Fisher provides a political explanation why this was so:

"At the time when Savile was abusing, the victims were faced, not with Jimmy Savile the monster, Jimmy Savile the prolific abuser of children, but with Jimmy Savile, Knight Commader of the Pontifical Equestrian Order of Saint Gregory the Great. When we ask how Savile got away with it all, we must remember this. Naturally, fear played a part in keeping Savile's victims quiet. [...] But we also need to take seriously the way that power can warp the experience of reality itself. Abuse by the powerful induces a cognitive dissonance in the vulnerable - this can't possibly be happening." [94-95] 
 
Fisher (brilliantly) concludes his piece on Savile:
 
"The powerful trade on the idea that abuse and corruption used to happen, but not any more. Abuse and cover-up can be admitted, but only on condition that they are confined to the past. That was then, things are different now ..." [95]




Notes
 
[a] I have watched the film adaptation of Peace's 2006 novel The Damned Utd (2006) and I enjoyed it. Fisher, on the other hand, hates it; arguing that the film lacks all the bite and Gnostic mythography of the book and that in the hands of the film's director (Tom Hooper) and writer (Peter Morgan) the story is reduced into just another off-the-shelf cliché-ridden narrative. 
      Fisher also criticises Michael Sheen's performance (as Brian Clough) as campy and based on a popular image and pre-existing idea of the character, lacking depth or inner life. I will pick up on this in section IV of this post, when discussing Steve Coogan's portrayal of Jimmy Saville in the TV drama The Reckoning (2023). 
      See Fisher's piece '"Can the World Be as Sad as It Seems?": David Peace and His Adapters', in Ghosts of My Life: Writings on Depression, Hauntology and Lost Futures, (Zero Books, 2022), pp. 80-87. His remarks on The Damned Utd are on pp. 85-87.  
 
[b] British readers will of course know who Jimmy Savile was (and what he was). But for anyone who is unfamiliar with the name ... 
      Sir James Wilson Vincent Savile OBE KCSG (1926-2011) was an English media personality and DJ. He hosted the long-running BBC TV shows Top of the Pops and Jim'll Fix It. During his lifetime, Savile was well known (and much-loved, although Fisher denies this) for his eccentric image and charitable work. After his death, however, hundreds of allegations of sexual abuse made against him were investigated, leading the police to conclude that he had been a predatory and prolific sex offender (such allegations made during his lifetime were dismissed and accusers ignored or disbelieved). 
      As a result of the ensuing scandal, some of the honours that Savile was awarded during his career were posthumously revoked and his television appearances - including episodes of Top of the Pops that he presented - are no longer repeated. As Fisher notes: "Now, condemnation is not enough: all traces of his existence must be removed [...] as if he were some medieval devil [...]" Ghosts of My Life, p. 94. 
 
[c] Mark Fisher, Ghosts of My Life ... p. 50. Future page references to this second edition of Fisher's book will be given directly in the text.   

[d] Fisher's piece on Joy Division was adapted from a post on his k-punk blog dated 9 Jan 2005. It was published in its final form in Ghosts of My Life in 2014. 

[e] Joy Division's vocalist and lyricist Ian Curtis, who suffered from epilepsy and depression, committed suicide, aged 23, in May 1980. Writer and cultural theorist Mark Fisher, who also suffered from depression, committed suicide, aged 48, in January 2017. As a friend of mine remarked upon hearing of the latter's death (perhaps a little cruelly): K-punk is kaput.  

[f] Glitter's status as a glam rock idol was irredeemably tarnished after he was imprisoned for downloading child pornography in 1999, convicted of child sexual abuse in 2006, and found guilty of a series of sexual offences (including attempted rape) in 2015. All round entertainer Rolf Harris, popular throughout the '60s, '70s, and 1980s, was convicted in 2014 of having sexually assaulted four underage girls. 
 
Part 1 of this post on Lost Futures can be read by clicking here  

Part 3 of this post - on hauntology - can be read by clicking here
 

10 May 2021

We Are Transmitters: Reflections on Síomón Solomon's Audiopoetics

"As we live, we are transmitters of life. 
And when we fail to transmit life, life fails to flow through us." [1]
 
 
Rüdiger Görner describes Síomón Solomon's 'Spills of mire I swallowed inside the tower' as "an inspirational meditation on the poetics of audio drama" [2] and I'm happy to endorse this view and echo the praise. 
 
Consisting of five short movements, the text is pretty much perfect as is and hardly needs commentary; it certainly doesn't deserve to be summarized or stripped to its bare bones (so that these can in turn be ground down into fine dust in the name of analysis) 
 
And so, what follows are mostly just brief reflections of my own, inspired by Solomon's in the first three movements [3] ...
 
 
(i) On dying of imagination (or dancing to the radio till you're dead)
 
What do fictional adultress Lady Chatterley and epileptic post-punk icon Ian Curtis have in common? The answer is that both regarded the act of listening to the radio as a potentially suicidal gesture, as Greil Marcus terms it [4].    
 
Lawrence provides a short but rather terrifying description of Sir Clifford Chatterley turning on and tuning in to his newly installed radio and becoming queer in the process, much to Connie's amazement and horror:
 
"And he would sit alone for hours listening [...] with a blank, entranced expression on his face, like a person losing his mind, and listen, or seem to listen, to the unspeakable thing." [5]
 
As for Curtis, the radio, says Solomon, functioned in his imagination not merely as  device to dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to, but as "an acoustic accelerant of auto-destruction, a transmission machine for self-slaughter" [6], that leads to an everlasting silence that might be construed as the ultimate example of dead air; i.e., the void that exists "in the dark heart of hearing" [7].
 
 
(ii) 'Sometimes a wind blows': A quick wor(l)d in David Lynch's ear
 
For some, the ear is the most poetic organ. For others, it's the most open and obliging organ. And for ear fetishists all around the lobe - which, if Solomon's account is true, includes filmmaker David Lynch - aural sex is the only game in town [8].
 
For D. H. Lawrence, hearing is "perhaps the deepest of the senses" [9] and the one we have no choice about; i.e., we can't close our ears in the same manner we can shut our eyes, although we can of course block our ears with beeswax, like Odysseus, should we wish to do so.

Responding to this latter point, Lawrence writes:

"We may voluntarily quicken our hearing, or make it dull. But we have really no choice of what we hear. Our will is eliminated. Sound acts direct, almost automatically, upon the affective centres. And we have no power of going forth from the ear. We are always and only recipient." [10]  
 
One suspects that Solomon would challenge Lawrence's thinking here, particularly the latter claim, believing as he does that "the physical ear is not merely a passive cavity or vacuous opening but a transfigurative chamber of auditory fantasy" [11]

However, Solomon might be rather more sympathetic to (or at least more intrigued by) what Lawrence says here about music:
 
"The singing of birds acts almost entirely upon the centres of the breast. [...] 
      So does almost all our music, which is all Christian in tendency. But modern music is analytical, critical, and it has discovered the power of ugliness. Like our martial music, it is of the upper plane [... acting] direct upon the thoracic ganglian. Time was, however, when music acted upon the sensual centres direct. We hear it still in savage music, and in the roll of drums, and in the roaring of lions, and in the howling of cats. And in some voices still we hear the deeper resonance of the sensual mode of consciouness." [12]      
 
 
(iii) 'The Ether Will Now Oblige'
 
I'm pleased that Solomon brings the Italian Futurists into his discussion of audiopoetics. 
 
I'm particularly pleased to see Luigi Russolo, author of The Art of Noise (1916), given a shout out, as he anticipated Lawrence's thinking in Fantasia concerning the relationship between sound and the material unconscious - just as he anticipated everything that was to unfold in music-as-technology in the twentieth-century. 
 
In another memorable passage, Solomon writes:

"As a culture transforms, the aesthetic spectrum of listening, its scale of aural tolerances and refusals, is continuously recalibrated. Accoring to Russolo's epistolary argument, the ear of the Classical age in music could never have borne the modern orchestra's arduous dissonances. The introduction of nineteeth-century machine technology decisively ushered in the advent of noise - which immediately claimed, it is asserted, an absolute sovereignty over human sensibility. As for us multi-layered, late and lonely moderns [...] while we may still be shaken by Wagner and Beethoven, are we any longer stirred?" [13]
 
If it's true, on the one hand, that noise annoys, so do we moderns love - and seem to need - a constant stream of machine-produced sound as a "stimulant whose manufactured proliferation [...] has become perversely anaesthetizing and/or a form of consensual ambient pollution" [14] 
 
The one thing we do not want - and seem to fear - is silence. For that, we no longer have ears, even though it is the silence - that great bride of all creation - from which we are born and to which we must return [15]
 
  
Notes
 
[1] D. H. Lawrence, 'We are transmitters', in The Poems,  Vol. I, ed. Christopher Pollnitz, (Cambridge University Press, 2013), p. 389.
 
[2] Síomón Solomon, 'Spills of mire I swallowed inside the tower (an audiopoetic symphony in five short movements)', in Hölderlin's Poltergeists, (Peter Lang, 2020), pp. 89-119. 
      Professor Görner's comment is taken from his blurb on the back cover of this book. He goes on to add that, in short, "Solomon's work is a stunning testimony to the significance of the audiopoetic in our increasingly prosaic world". 

[3] It's not that I didn't find the last two sections - which discuss Greek (amphi)theatrics and the politics of the Hörspiel respectively - of interest, but they belong to areas of research about which I have almost no knowledge and so don't feel qualified to join in the conversation.      

[4] Greil Marcus, The History of Rock 'n' Roll in Ten Songs, (Yale University Press, 2015), p. 33, quoted by Solomon on p. 90 of Hölderlin's Poltergeists.
 
[5] D. H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley's Lover, ed. Michael Squires, (Cambridge University Press, 1993), p. 110.
   
[6]  Síomón Solomon, Hölderlin's Poltergeists, p. 90. 
      Solomon is referring to the Joy Division debut single, 'Transmission', released in October 1979 on Factory Records. Readers unfamiliar with the track - and with Ian Curtis - are encouraged to click here and watch the official video (a live performance on Something Else (15 Sept 1979)). 
 
[7] Síomón Solomon, Hölderlin's Poltergeists, p. 91. 
 
[8] Solomon notes of the Blue Velvet director: "Legend has it that Lynch became so fixated with his film's prosthetic ear that he and his make-up supervisor Jeff Goodwin came to regard it as a character in its own right - calling it 'Mr Ear', redesigning it out of silicone rather than latex and even embellishing it, in a superbly disquieting fetishistic signature, with locks of Lynch's own scissored hair." See Hölderlin's Poltergeists, pp. 99-100. 
 
[9] D. H. Lawrence, Fantasia of the Unconscious, ed. Bruce Steele, (Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 103. 

[10] Ibid.
 
[11] Síomón Solomon, Hölderlin's Poltergeists, p. 101. 

[12] D. H.Lawrence, Fantasia of the Unconscious, pp. 103-104. 
      It's interesting that Lawrence mentions the howling of cats as a form of singing that acts directly on the sensual centres. According to Johnny Rotten, his mother once described Kate Bush's singing as sounding like a bag of cats and yet, despite this - or because of this - Rotten loves Kate Bush, as does Síomón Solomon, who describes her musical persona as an angel-cum-banshee. See Hölderlin's Poltergeists, p. 93.  
 
[13]  Síomón Solomon, Hölderlin's Poltergeists, pp 102-103.
 
[14] Ibid., p. 103. 

[15] See D. H. Lawrence, 'Silence', in The Poems, Vol. I., p. 612. 
 
 
This is the 5th - and possibly final - post in a series inspired by Síomón Solomon's work in Hölderlin's Poltergeists. The earlier four posts are: 

 
 

 

10 Mar 2021

The Bats Have Left the Bell Tower: Reflections on Graveyard Poetry and Post-Punk Goth

Love Among the Gravestones (1981) 
Photo by Kirk Field
 
 
La Rochefoucauld famously suggested that people never would have fallen in love if they hadn’t first learnt about it in works of art. And one wonders if something similar might also be said of the morbid and sometimes macabre fascination that many young lovers have for skulls, coffins, epitaphs and worms, i.e., all the trappings and paraphernalia of death. 
 
Would, for example, the two teens pictured above have spent so much time smooching in cemeteries were it not for the influence of the Graveyard Poets upon the erotic imagination?
 
It's doubtful. 
 
For whilst their post-punk queer gothic sensibility was primarily shaped by Bauhaus, Siouxsie and the Banshees, and the Sex Gang Children - along with numerous other bands from this period (early-1980s) - we can trace their love of the uncanny and the occult all the way back to these 18th-century poets, whose mournful meditations on mortality and the love that tears us apart foreshadowed the work of songwriters like Ian Curtis and Nick Cave.   
 
There is - perhaps not surprisingly - much debate within critical circles about what constitutes a graveyard poem and about which authors should be classified as belonging to the Graveyard school (and it might be noted that the term itself was not used to refer to a style of writer and their work until coined by a literary scholar in 1893). 
 
What we can say, however, is that the following four poems remain crucial to our understanding of it:
 
Night Piece on Death (1722) - Thomas Parnell
Night-Thoughts (1742-45) - Edward Young
The Grave (1743) - Robert Blair
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard  (1751) - Thomas Gray

Obviously, none of these works have the pop brilliance of songs by the above bands and artists, but readers who are interested in melancholic 18th-century poetry to do with life, death, ghosts and graveyards should certainly check them out. 
 
Be prepared, however, for a tedious amount of Christian moralising; for it's an unfortunate fact that didacticism and piety often detract from the delicious decadence and horror of these works.    
 
 
Musical bonus: Public Image Ltd., 'Graveyard', from the album Metal Box, (Virgin, 1979): click here.