Skip to main content

LAYING DOWN THE LAW

Yesterday most of the world grieved on learning about the death of David Bowie - the extraordinary level of mourning marking a sense a figure as pivotal as Picasso had left the mortal planet.

Cue BBC Radio 4, and Front Row, on just after The Archers in the evening, which decided, rightly, to focus its programming on Bowie. Among the guests invited to discuss his life and work was Lavinia Greenlaw, a well-known and talented Faber poet, novelist, and professor of creative writing.

From the start, it was an odd affair - no one really discussed Bowie's work in film, for instance - and it felt a bit rushed, which, given the surprise announcement of his death, makes sense.

In retrospect, asking Greenlaw to speak about Bowie from a poet's perspective seems an error, but she was introduced as a "long-time fan" of his music.

At the very start of the Greenlaw segment, something dreadful happened - something so English in the worst sense of the word, I shudder at it. Not the Englishness of Bowie - daring, creative, strange and alert - but the Englishness of hierarchical thinking and decorum.

Greenlaw was asked to discuss Bowie's songwriting, and specifically what she thought of his words as poetry.

She immediately paused (as if this was not clearly what she had been asked to discuss) and then - and here I became physically ill with panic listening at home, because I knew what was coming (I have heard it before too many times from others) - she calmly and rather professorially explained that Bowie was not a poet, these were not poems, but that he was a lyricist, these were lyrics, and of course very good ones.  She talked then (admiringly it must be said) about how he used simple words at times, and discussed his song lyrics with some interest and enthusiasm.

The issue for me, however, and the wider world, is that this was not an abstract debate or lecture, but the first official BBC cultural discussion of the impact of one of England's greatest creative geniuses of the past 150 years, whose family may have been listening, on the day of his death's announcement.

Words have meaning, and impact.

This was meant to be a eulogy, not a cold and surgical summing up.

We wanted celebration, not academic discrimination.

In short, we didn't care what Ms Greenlaw thinks a poem is, and isn't.

To the world, David Bowie is a poet, an artist, of the first rank.

I know the general academic position in the UK is that song lyrics are not poems, because poems carry their own music within them. Morrissey, Jim Morrison, John Lennon, Bob Dylan, are not considered poets by most establishment poetry figures in the UK. For many, Ginsberg and Hart Crane are barely poets, let alone Whitman. Ashbery has no music to many, too. The English poetic ear too often connects to the heart through the Oxbridge mind.

I am not angry at Ms Greenlaw - she is perfectly entitled to her opinion, which she very calmly and professionally explained to an audience of millions on the BBC. But neither should she be surprised or cross that I, and many others, may take exception to the timing and expression of such sentiments.

As I have stated elsewhere, if David Bowie is not a poet, in the size of his vision, conceptual achievements, and compositions, then how dare I and others claim such a label? Poetry, seeking relevance in this age, needs heroes and outliers like Bowie to keep new audiences keen and curious.

We who profess poetry and practice it professionally need to take care to be inclusive, modest, and imaginative in how we lay down our poetic laws.  A canon without Bowie is a poorer place.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

IQ AND THE POETS - ARE YOU SMART?

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.  What do I mean by smart?

"I have crossed oceans of time to find you..."

In terms of great films about, and of, love, we have Vertigo, In The Mood for Love , and Casablanca , Doctor Zhivago , An Officer and a Gentleman , at the apex; as well as odder, more troubling versions, such as Sophie's Choice and  Silence of the Lambs .  I think my favourite remains Bram Stoker's Dracula , with the great immortal line "I have crossed oceans of time to find you...".

THE SWIFT REPORT 2023

I am writing this post without much enthusiasm, but with a sense of duty. This blog will be 20 years old soon, and though I rarely post here anymore, I owe it some attention. Of course in 2023, "Swift" now means one thing only, Taylor Swift, the billionaire musician. Gone are the days when I was asked if I was related to Jonathan Swift. The pre-eminent cultural Swift is now alive and TIME PERSON OF THE YEAR. There is no point in belabouring the obvious with delay: 2023 was a low-point in the low annals of human history - war, invasion, murder, in too many nations. Hate, division, the collapse of what truth is, exacerbated by advances in AI that may or may not prove apocalyptic, while global warming still seems to threaten the near-future safety of humanity. It's been deeply depressing. The world lost some wonderful poets, actors, musicians, and writers this year, as it often does. Two people I knew and admired greatly, Ian Ferrier and Kevin Higgins, poets and organise