my life as a artist
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linton not-crazy johnson
Monday 3rd December 2007 12:16 AM
I've just been listening to Linton Kwesi Johnson reading his poem 'Di Great Insohreckshan', about the Brixton riots of 1981, on a Radio 4 programme called 'Poetry through history'. This was surprisingly edgy stuff for Radio 4, and I think they got more than they bargained for. The poetry was powerful and, 'because the wind doesn't howl in iambic pentameters', quite raw. After the first ten minutes of celebratory and righteous 'lootin' and a burnin', I sensed the producers wishing they'd chosen 'The charge of the light brigade' instead.
Unfortunately, during the last five minutes of the programme, my attention was divided by a chicken coming in to the caravan and trying to have perfunctory, but enthusiastic, sex with an attractive tea-cosy, completely unaware that the cosy's delicious body-warmth was being provided by a freshly brewed pot of Earl Grey tea, underneath.
By the time I'd cleaned up the mess, and counselled the chicken, to a point where I thought it was fit to go back out into the farmyard, the programme was over. During a silent affirmation with the chicken, however, I did manage to catch an extraordinary exchange between the poet and the white, middle-class presenter.
I can't remember the exact words, but the presenter more or less said, ' So Linton, this poem was written twenty-six years ago…since then, the battle for racial equality has just about been won, what, with Trevor MacDonald reading the news and stuff …. is the poem still relevant?.. in fact, would you say, in retrospect, that you wrote it with a certain amount of irony?'
My shock, at such a crass, tit-knob of a question, was picked up by the chicken, whose subsequent squawking drowned out most of the poet's reply. I think it was something along the lines of 'No, irony is for English poets'. (this is Linton speaking, of course, not the chicken squawking). I haven't got a 'listen again' facility, so if anybody heard the reply, and wasn't having to deal with a sex-crazed chicken trauma (with tarka dal and pilaw rice?) at the same time, I'd be grateful if you could tell me what it was.
Meanwhile, an overseas reader, whose validation word of the day was 'urgent', thanks me for penetrating the media black-out of Somalia. It pleases me to think that I might be lighting a candle by complaining about the darkness. When I say 'the darkness' here, I am of course referring to the influence of the demon-controlled structures of the planet, and not the high-pitched soft-metal warblings of a popular beat-combo from Lowestoft. You can't complain about a man with curly hair who believes in a thing called love.
Comments
Not testing at all, most enjoyable. And Linton's beat poetry is unbeatable
Posted by A. Pedant , on Tuesday 11th December 2007, 12:29 PM
just testing
Posted by me , on Monday 10th December 2007, 7:16 PM
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Posted by embroidery machine , on Saturday 8th December 2007, 7:10 PM
Great stuff
Posted by Greg , on Thursday 6th December 2007, 10:41 AM
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