The poet Esther Shumiatcher Hirschbein was born in Belarus in 1899 and after many travels settled in Los Angeles in 1940. I was introduced to her via a translation of her 1956 poem Summer Awakening that appeared in the Forverts in 2021. A pshut shtikl ayzen (אַ פּשוּט שטיקל אײזן) is from the same 1956 collection, Lider (לידער). This is my own translation:

An unglowing piece of iron,
Burns like the sun in the desert;
Blooms like a cactus flower,
And like all the colored stones,
In the rays of the sun.
My plain piece of iron —
What joys do I learn from it?
Blood is the fire of life.
The sun is life alone.
Grass, with its green aspirations,
Is beauty for itself alone.

One of my Yiddish teachers shared this poem with us a couple of weeks ago and as a class we translated it well enough to get the gist. And to revel in the joy that we can get through 36 lines of poetry in our new language. (New? Several of us have been in the same zoom class for over three years.

A painting of the poet Itzik Manger by Arthur Kolnik in profile. Hair dark brown, red jacket, white shirt, blue background.

Itzik Manger is one of the lights of 20th Century Yiddish literature and while outwardly simple, his poems contain great richness. While I was happy with what achieved in the context of class, I wanted to bring my own poetic sensibilities to it. I went though a period of writing formal poetry and recognized in the Manger some of the formalism he was adhering to.

Some notes:
* Avreml is a dimunitive of Abraham.
* Avrom Avinu, Abraham our father, is a common epithet for Abraham, the first of the patriarchs. Similar epithets include Dovid HaMelech (David the King) and Moishe Rabinu (Moses our teacher).
* In Hebrew, the number 18 is spelled חי which are the first two letters of the word for life (חיים), and is symbolically related to it. One often gives gifts of money in multiples of 18 for this reason.

Avreml, when will you and I
have a child? We are so old.
Any woman as old as I,
Has eighteen children already.

Avrom our father smiled and laughed,
Blowing smoke from his pipe. Believe it,
My wife. If the good lord is so moved,
Even a broom will fire a round.

Abe, my love, every night you hear
Me cry, my body racked with sobs.
Hagar is only our servant,
I, dear Avrom, am your true wife.

Often the star in the window
I think is the soul of our child.
In the raindrops, in the shadows,
In the wind, wandering each night.

Avrom our father smiled and laughed,
Blowing smoke from his pipe. Believe it,
My wife. If the good lord is so moved,
Even a broom will fire a round.

When sometimes I see Hagar’s child
At play in the sun and the sand,
I caress the boy on his head,
And my hand becomes strangely sad.

When I take the child in my lap,
He smiles so good and so sweetly,
That my eyes grow damp and large,
And my blood becomes strangely sad.

Avreml, when will you and I
have a child? We are so old.
Any woman as old as I,
Has eighteen children already.

Avrom our father smiled and laughed,
Blowing smoke from his pipe. Believe it,
My wife. If the good lord is so moved,
Even a broom will fire a round.

The other night I had the time to finally watch Marco Porsio’s 2019 Swans documentary Where Does a Body End. First off: Five stars. Well done. Rock docs follow a certain pattern that this didn’t really deviate from – interview the principals, interview their comrades present and past. In this case the principal is Michael Gira, who founded Swans in 1981 or so and has been the only consistent member across 40-plus years. He was generous with his time and his own assessments of his strengths and faults. I was excited early on that there was a clip of Einsturzende Neubauten’s Blixa Bargeld expressing some praise. Alas, he only gets the camera once more near the end. Other key interviewees included Lee Ranaldo and Thurston Moore of Sonic Youth (who toured with Swans at the beginnings of both bands’ histories), and Jarboe. Jarboe drove up to NYC from Atlanta in ‘85 or so having written a fan letter (shared in the doc) to the band after hearing an early recording on college radio. She joined as keyboardist and occasional vocalist appearing first on the 1986 releases Greed, Holy Money, and Time is Money (Bastard). We learn from the doc that she and Gira were partners from that period until Gira disbanded Swans in 1997. (He would reignite Swans in 2010 without Jarboe. An impetus for the film was Gira’s announcement that the newer incarnation of the group would halt after four albums and the accompanying 2017 tour. Last year, a new lineup released an album and are touring – I’ve seen them twice this time out.) Her participation in the documentary is generous and alone worth the price of admission if you’re interested in how bands work.

Thurston Moore’s memories of their bands’ tours together is poignant in the descriptions of just how difficult life on the road was/is for independent acts. In his thoughts on the re-invigorated version of Swans, he admits to a little jealous that Gira’s band was still going, ‘He’s got Swans. I don’t have Sonic Youth.’ (This is a little disingenuous – Moore and SY’s bassist Kim Gordon had been a couple/married for 27 years until Moore fathered a child with their nanny. That put paid to SY.)

One of the most interesting thing about how the film is constructed is the wealth of live footage of the band, both their earlier incarnations and the more recent tours. I was amused of a clip from their 2011 appearance at the All Tomorrow’s Parties festival in London because I was there. Not that I could have picked myself out in the audience. My favourite clip (which I hope to find online) was Jarboe joining the new lineup in 2016 or so to perform Blood On Yr Hands (a highlight of the ‘95/‘97 tours.)

And of course I can write paragraphs and paragraphs about the interviews and the clips and so forth, but as always, it’s a case of dancing about architecture. Swans have always been about the intensity of the musical experience and their music isn’t for the faint of heart. I think Screen Shot is representative.

Yeah, I know we’re almost through the first month of 2024 and I’m usually more on top of this, but I didn’t read that much last year anyway. So…

Words:
Malinda Lo – Last Night at the Telegraph Club (reread for the Leiden expat book club – the other participants didn’t love it as much as I did, but that’s fine too.)
Sonia Blanck – Hive (I don’t think this is published yet – I met Sonia on Mastodon and offered to read it. Good and weird SF. Keep your eyes peeled for it.)
Jaqueline Harpman – I Who Have Never Known Men (Weird and disturbing SF – the title shouldn’t put you off – this was a proper mindfuck.)
Dorothy L. Sayers – Strong Poison
M. Katz – Cybernetic Tea Shop
C. McMullen – A Space Girl From Earth
Rachel Churcher – Angels (I was a sensitivity reader on this *very* cool YA novel. A leap ahead in style and ability for Ms. Churcher. Check it out.)
Marek Šindelka – Aberrant (Another book club read – I really enjoyed this bit of weirdness that takes place in and around Prague in 2002. My colleagues in the club didn’t know what to make of the flooding in the city that occupies the last third of the book. I knew from the first dateline that the Prague Flood of 2002 would come up. But I lived in Prague at the time. Everyone else in the club was confused.)
Jonathan Scott – The Vinyl Frontier: The Story of NASA’s Interstellar Mixtape
Rachel Pollack – Unquenchable Fire (I’d never heard of Pollack, but when she passed away last year, Neil Gaiman penned an appreciation of her work, so I took a dive. Excellent as the recommendation would suggest.)
Terry Pratchett – Small Gods (Another one for the book club – still excellent.)
S. Jones – Sisters Cavendish (Another preread – this one’s not published yet either, but it’s great.)
Ursula K. Le Guin – The Lathe of Heaven (Read for the new book club at my office which still only has two members. Hadn’t read this in 30 years and gracious is it weirdly wonderful. Still.)
S.L. Rowland – Cursed Cocktails (Cozy fantasy goodness. Recommended.)
Dana Hughes – Rain (A Novella)
Kate Castle – Girl Island (Office book club. Female take on Lord of the Flies – very well done.)
Sean Carroll – The Biggest Ideas in the Universe
Satoshi Yagisawa – Days at the Morisaki Bookshop
Italo Calvino – If on a winter’s night a traveler (first read in college back in ’85 – still weirdly wonderful)
Haruki Murakami – Norwegian Wood (Office book club. I’d read other Murakami, but not this one, his “normal” novel. Enjoyed it a lot.)
Delacorta – Diva (I’d bought a DVD of the movie which I hadn’t seen in an age and when I posted about it, a friend said, ‘yeah, you have to read the books too. Lola and Luna are waiting on the bookshelf.)
Anne Leckie – Ancillary Justice (recommended by a cousin – wonderful stuff – want to get to the next ones in the series.)
Graham Greene – Travels with My Aunt (Amusing and strange in the way that only Greene is.)
George Orwell – 1984 (office book club)

Audio:
George Johnson – Miss Leavitt’s Stars
Carl Sagan – The Demon Haunted World
Richard Osman – The Thursday Murder Club
Bruce Dickinson – What Does This Button Do? (Interesting memoir from the lead singer of Iron Maiden who has done very cool things, but has abridged much that makes an actual life interesting. Not nearly as good as Rob Halford’s Confess.)
Jung Chang – Wild Swans (When a niece was recovering from a concussion, my sister read this aloud to her. Sis had recommended it in the 90s, but I never took the dive. This history of China from the period before the Communist victory through the Cultural Revolution is riveting stuff.)
Elliot Page – Pageboy (Memoir by excellent trans actor – very nicely done.)
K. Tempest Bradford – Ruby Finley vs. the Interstellar Invasion
Homer – The Odyssey (Emily Watson translation, read wonderfully by Claire Danes. Alas Danes does not read her translation of The Illiad, but that’s on my list too.
Trevor Horne – Adventures in Modern Recording (Memoir of many great albums from the guy who sang Video Killed the Radio Star and produced Welcome to the Pleasuredome. Among so many other things.)
Kai Bird and Martin K. Sherwin – American Prometheus (The Pulitzer-winning bio of Robert J. Oppenheimer on which the movie Oppenheimer was based. If you thought that Robert Downey Jr.’s Lewis Strauss was a bastard in the movie, dang. Strauss was so much worse in real life.)

I tell a story about my sister having two tickets for Talking Heads at the Pantages in Hollywood in December of 1983. She was already in college and her boyfriend begged off the show she’d bought tickets for. She asked me if I wanted to go. Of course I did, but those gigs were a Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday and the hard fast rule for me was no gigs on school nights. Our parents were out of town, and there was no way they’d find out. But I went to Hollywood with my sister and watched her sell the tickets around the corner from the show. How many of you have regrets that have lasted for four decades?

Eight or nine months later, that series of gigs was immortalized on film as Stop Making Sense. I went to see it in the theatre three or four times in its initial run (once with friends who were flying on LSD – I didn’t partake of that either) and I’ve seen it at least three or four more times in the intervening decades. And I’ve listened to the album hundreds of times. I’ve had it on tape, CD, and download.

So ever since that teaser of David Byrne picking up his big suit from the dry cleaner came out, I’ve been keen to see it again on the big screen. And I finally did this week with my friend Cheryl (who hadn’t seen it since that initial run). From that beautiful moment when Byrne walks out on a bare stage with an acoustic guitar and a boom box and says “I have a tape I want to play for you” and we hear the backing of Psycho Killer, we know we’re in for something special.

With each of the next several songs, another band member comes on: Tina Weymouth to play bass on Heaven, Chris Franz to play drums (the drum riser rolled out by crew all in black) on Thank You For Sending Me An Angel, and then guitarist/keyboardist Jerry Harrison on Found A Job. Two backup singers, Lynn Mabry and Edna Holt, percussionist Steve Scales, and guitarist Alex Weir join the action for Slippery People. Finally keyboardist Bernie Worrell joins on Burning Down the House.

On seeing it in 1984, everything was very new to me in terms of how rock and roll was put on film. The first surprise, having been far more familiar with the music than the visuals, is that there are two capable singers on stage for the song Heaven, but Tina Weymouth doesn’t have a mic. Lynn Mabry sings harmony from offstage. (Later in the film, Byrne leaves the stage to Weymouth and Franz, aka Tom Tom Club, to perform their hit Genius of Love, on which Weymouth sings lead. It’s not as though she couldn’t have harmonized on Heaven, as she was already on stage.)

As the film moves forward, there’s wonder in how long the cameras linger on Byrne, and occasionally on the other musicians. There’s none of the jump-cut editing that so annoys me on Strictly Come Dancing (and, to be honest, most movies these days), which is nice. On the other hand, there are nine really capable musicians  on stage for most of the performance and the joy of a good performance film is being able to see them interact in the context of their art. The most egregious example of the hyper-focus on Byrne is the song Once In a Lifetime. The camera doesn’t move for five of the song’s 5 1/2 minutes, and when it does, we see Holt and Mabry out of focus doing interesting dance moves that Demme didn’t think we’d be interested in, somehow. (Then there’s this Siskel and Ebert review in which all they talk about is Byrne.)

There are other places in Stop Making Sense where we get wider camera angles and see the interplay of the performers, most notably in the gorgeous Naive Melody.

In ‘83, Talking Heads were touring their fifth album, the damn near flawless Speaking In Tongues, which provides six of the film’s 16 tracks. The sound on all of the songs (especially from the third song onward) is fuller and deeper than on the studio albums (and even the versions found on earlier live compilation The Name of this Band Is Talking Heads. When you can see the other members of the band, you can tell they’re firing on all cylinders, having performed as quartet for several years before expanding in ‘80 and ‘81 to a much larger touring act.

Even in ‘83 there was animosity between Byrne and the other Talking Heads, and they continued for three more very interesting albums (Little Creatures, True Stories, and Naked), but they never toured again. While the music on Stop Making Sense is obviously a collaboration of brilliant and capable musicians, one can only wish that the band and film makers had seen fit to share more of that collaboration with the audience.

Stop Making Sense on Spotify
Tom Tom Club: Genius of Love (YouTube)