I am now 44. I had hoped to stay cool until April 8, 2011, when I turn 45. However, I have been spotifying of late, catching up with all the latest bands and new tracks or songs or whatever they are now. Downloads is so vulgar. Anyhoo. Sleigh Bells is a new band with an album called Treats. And it is really loud, glaring, and sort of like 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' for thirty-minutes without the super-smart lyrics, with punk girls and fuzz and funk. That is it feels blow-your-head open new and on a different level of noise and generation. I think this may be the first album that I recognise as genuinely excellent, subversive and fun that my ears will have to adjust to. I am no longer able to just jump right into the music's head, to be Larkin about it. But I am sidling up to this. I want to wear bells.
When you open your mouth to speak, are you smart? A funny question from a great song, but also, a good one, when it comes to poets, and poetry. We tend to have a very ambiguous view of intelligence in poetry, one that I'd say is dysfunctional. Basically, it goes like this: once you are safely dead, it no longer matters how smart you were. For instance, Auden was smarter than Yeats , but most would still say Yeats is the finer poet; Eliot is clearly highly intelligent, but how much of Larkin 's work required a high IQ? Meanwhile, poets while alive tend to be celebrated if they are deemed intelligent: Anne Carson, Geoffrey Hill , and Jorie Graham , are all, clearly, very intelligent people, aside from their work as poets. But who reads Marianne Moore now, or Robert Lowell , smart poets? Or, Pound ? How smart could Pound be with his madcap views? Less intelligent poets are often more popular. John Betjeman was not a very smart poet, per se....
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