Colin Wilson, one of my favourite authors, once wrote of "outsiders". Recently, Outsider Music became a kind of quasi-genre, roping together socially marginal figures who make mavericks seem like the elite.
Now I have come across the oddest outsider of them all (odd in a good way?). The title of this post is from one his songs.
Have you heard (of) Y. Bhekhirst? The link below will take you to a site that has MP3s of all the ten songs on his under-the-underground classic Hot In The Airport tape, recorded and then re-released in New York.
The sound is as disconcerting and discordant and disturbed as a private language. This is Private Music.
Is there such poetry, as well? Is this a hoax?
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