The Music of ‘Richard’
The Music of ‘Richard’
Wednesday is about books, and reading, and writing. Today, I’m going to walk you through the music that informs the poems in my upcoming book, providing a literal (and literary?) soundtrack
Last week I asked you to consider pre-ordering my book:
You can still do that. And I hope you will. If you pre-order (at just $20) you’ll be able to collect the book at the launch, or have it posted out to you. Either way, you’ll be guaranteeing yourself a first edition copy. And it can be signed to you, or to anyone you are choosing to gift it to.
With the book literally being printed as I write this and/or as you read it, and me trying my best to live in my version of what Taylor Swift might call “an era” [of self-promotion] I thought today I might walk you through the soundtrack I’ve built for the poems. Because many of the songs here helped me to build the work.
There is a QR code on the back cover of the book which will take you to the playlist above. We did that with my last book, The Death of Music Journalism, and I thought it would be fun to do it again. What I noticed, this time, was the playlist (bonkers, eclectic) is far more of a soundtrack. Last time I simply went forensic and listed every single music reference. There was about 80 from memory. This time not every single poem has a song, but many of them do. There are more songs I could have included, but I wanted to make this under mixtape rules, which generally don’t allow for artist double-ups. I know some soundtracks do feature more than one song by the same artist, but I have never liked that. I want the album to be a business card for a range of artists. I don’t want any one artist getting more than one song. That’s my nit to pick. So I was sure to not have that play out on the soundtrack to The Richard Poems.
I’m keen — in promoting the book — to maybe do a public talk or two where I do some readings, and play snippets from the songs, showing how crucial they are to my writing, and hopefully to return/repeat-readings.
Anyway, I’m going to go through the songs now in order and share some notes about the inclusion of each track. I’ll acknowledge this is as much for me as it is for you! :)
Do It Again, The Beach Boys
I’ve always loved this song. And though it isn’t the inspiration for any of these poems, it is, in a way the theme tune for the whole book. Well, one of two. (Spoiler alert: The playlist is bookended by the two obvious theme tunes). I love the sentiment of this song being bent to fit the type of crooked nostalgia I’m exploring in my poems here. Also, what a great opening song for any compilation or playlist ever eh!
One More Night, Phil Collins
This didn’t actually inspire any of the individual poems, but it hovers over the collection as a marker of the era, and the live version from Serious Hits in particular. I’ve just recently imagined it in a poem (that is not in the book) but speaks to the same sort of perceived darkness I always feel is hiding underneath or deep inside this song:
The Last Time I Saw Richard, Joni Mitchell
The first poem in the book has this direct title, and action that references this song. I really only got into Joni at university, seems the place for it. I lived in a bedsit. Perfect for listening to Blue and Court and Spark, which I collected for $1 each from a closing down sale. None of my friends liked Joni Mitchell. It was “too girly” for them, and/or “too weird”. I tried to play it at a party one night. It didn’t go well.
Real American, Rick Derringer
The Hulk Hogan theme tune. It was years before I knew it had been an actual song, co-opted by Hogan and the WWF (now WWE). But it was all through my childhood. It was usually the sound of the end of the pay-per-view event, Wrestlemania or the Survivor Series or the Royal Rumble, because Hulk Hogan was usually the winner, or some kind of special enforcer that came out at the end of the show. The big draw. I’m a recovering pro-wrestling addict, I relapsed at the start of this year and watched a dozen old pay-per-view events in about three or four days. And then, once again, I was cured. I wrote a poem about Summerslam 1988. But like a lot of poems it’s also not about that at all. It’s about something else.
AFFCO, Skeptics
This song, which I feel has sometimes been on a loop in my head ever since I first heard it, soundtracks the trip to the abattoir we had when we were 16. I have written about this several times, in various ways, variations on a theme. But really it’s the video to this song that inspired the poem that is in the book. The song is still inspiring poems. And I feel I’ve just recently written what I always wanted to say about this song:
Run Like Hell, Pink Floyd
It’s funny how taking a song and placing it on a soundtrack can make you like it once again, or in fact for the first time. (That’s part of why I love soundtracks). I can’t say Run Like Hell has ever been high on my list of favourite Pink Floyd songs, but I’m really digging it right now, as a result of choosing to put it on this playlist. It was the song I thought of that best typified the experience I was writing about; a business card for the whole album in this sense. Where you might think Comfortably Numb or Hey You or of course A Brick In The Wall would better signify the whole album, I thought specifically of Run Like Hell. Close to ten years ago, I wrote this:
This was the first rant in a series going on about “classic albums” that I was sick of hearing — and then parts of it were adapted to make the prose piece that is in The Richard Poems.
I’m Still Standing, Elton John
One of several examples where the song is directly mentioned in the book — and it’s also a marker of time, and place. I twist the meaning of the song’s title to give a darkness that is simply not there in the song’s lyric or intention. And I like doing that.
Girls & Boys, Prince
This arrived late to the ‘soundtrack’ of the book, but the poem it is connected to was one of the first to be written. I was reshaping the playlist, as some of the poems shifted place in the book and I wanted the songs in the playlist to work in order of when they’re referenced in the book, and I then thought it would be nice to have a round number. So I added this. Always loved this song, am of course a giant soundtrack nerd, so bonus points, since this is technically part of a movie soundtrack, and of course I’ve been a Prince fan since I can remember. A lot of the time when the book was set I felt alone as a Prince fan. So that became important to reference in some way too, and could think of no better way than to choose one of the more upbeat and infectious of his kick-ass album cuts.
Finals [from the Bloodsport soundtrack], Paul Hertzog
The movie Bloodsport feels so indelibly linked to my childhood. Watching it for that first time at a sleepover birthday party was close to overwhelming. I’ve always loved martial arts movies, and this was one of the gateway drugs, an early, formative experience. The music was most certainly a crucial part of that film, and for years I had no idea who made it. Now I own the score on vinyl and listen to it all the time. I still get choked up by various parts of the music, certain cues. And I find the film a really emotional watch. Which is silly. I do know that. But it’s my silly.
Hellraiser [from the Hellraiser soundtrack], Christopher Young
Hellraiser stayed with me too, saw it the same night I first saw Bloodsport. Loved Christopher Young’s music instantly too. This is a short cue that is part of the playlist purely because the film is referenced in the same piece that talks about Bloodsport.
Big Love, Fleetwood Mac
I always loved Big Love, always loved Fleetwood Mac as well. Every version of the band. And I think I’ve mentioned that enough in this newsletter. Also love both versions of Big Love. The song seemed to go over big time with a lot of people in its acoustic version, and I love that, but this Big 80s Production original is also perfect.
Commando (High Score) [from the Commodore 64 game], Rob Hubbard
I almost burst into tears when I found this collection of Commodore 64 Computer Game soundtracks, so much nostalgia. Commando was one of the games we’d play and just leave on in the background. The 8-bit music would bug a person almost instantly, because there’s a lot more noise in the world these days. Back then, it was almost calming. You might leave this on in the background for up to an hour.
We’ve Gotta Get Out of This Place, The Animals
The Most of the Animals was the very first compact disc to arrive in my house, as my parents started to rebuild the record collections from their childhoods. But this song is in the book as a signifier of “Vietnam era” music. This must be the second-best and second-most referenced example after CCR’s Fortunate Son, right?
Layla (Unplugged), Eric Clapton
There’s a poem in the collection that mentions Layla and has it in the title. And it’s the version from the Unplugged album that is being referenced.
Walk of Life, Dire Straits
When I was 15 I went to a Dire Straits concert. They were my favourite band at the time. Walk of Life was my least favourite song by my favourite band. My best friend at the time told me that if they played the song he was going to leave. They played it as the second song of the night. I was elated — even though I hated this song. I was so excited by the atmosphere of the gig. I looked around and I was alone in a sea of people older and wiser. It was momentarily terrifying.
Three Little Birds, Bob Marley & The Wailers
Here’s another example of taking a song that is, if anything, sweet, and making it seem nastier, or weirder, by making it part of the inspiration for a darker poem. My piece of writing takes this title and images the three little birds dead — well, after all it’s based on a true story, so it’s not so much about imagining as it is remembering. Anyway, some of Marley’s famous carefree sentiment, “Don’t worry, about a thing” also gets a wee twist in my poem.
Vicious, Lou Reed
As a teenager in provincial New Zealand, being a Lou Reed fan was a lonely pursuit too. I took the title of another Lou Reed song (Perfect Day) as the inspiration for a poem in my new book, but it references lyrics from this tune, so this made the soundtrack rather than Perfect Day.
Prologue (A Nightmare on Elm Street) [from the OST], Charles Bernstein
The music from A Nightmare on Elm Street, its opening motif, is a classic. I’m often returning to the first three films to watch. I think they’re all brilliant, and maybe the first and third are masterpieces? Certainly within the modern slasher sub-genre they are. Anyway, Nightmare is referenced in the book (though it’s actually A Nightmare on Elm Street Part IV that I watched first and am thinking of); I also love using these small pieces of music to punctuate.
I’m So Proud, The Impressions
I discovered the music of Curtis Mayfield right before the worst summer I ever had. It stays with me forever. That incredible music soundtracking some really woeful times. Ironies abound, I was never less proud of myself than at this very moment in time. I wrote about it here, and a version of this story is carried over — in slightly different form — to the book:
I Like It Like That, Chris Kenner
A song from the soundtrack to Full Metal Jacket. Another of the movies that has a very strong significance to my late childhood. One of the most impactful films of my life. This song is here because I reference the look of the Private from the film when I write about shaved heads at my 21st birthday.
Too Much Monkey Business, Chuck Berry
One of the first poems that was written — actually long before I imagined the full scope of The Richard Poems (or even writing a second book of verse) — features a story about a monkey on a Weet-Bix card. Actually, it’s a chimpanzee. But there’s no good songs called Too Much Chimpanzee Business. And, anyway, we all call them monkeys when we’re talking about them in that way. There’s a certain comedy and timing to using that type of primate.
The Past Sure Is Tense, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band
Several of the poems in the book changed form when edited and arranged for this type of publishing. That included name changes. New titles on a small handful of occasions. This was one. It used to be called something else. But we lost the line that the title was referencing in the edit. It was redundant. So now the poem needs a new title! I straight away blurted this out as the title. It worked. We (me, editor, and publisher) all agreed. But they probably didn’t know my reference for that line was the great Captain Beefheart. Always really dug this song, and the album it rode in on.
Mary Had A Little Lamb, Stevie Ray Vaughan
One of the darker stories in the book is soundtracked by this little nursery rhyme. But of course it’s the Stevie Ray Vaughan blues-guitar version. Because I loved that so much when I was a teenager, and in my early 20s.
Why Can’t We Be Friends, War
The first “Richard” poem ever written is about how the song Why Can’t We Be Friends was actually paying on my stereo when I told a guy I’d known for half my life at that point to get his shit and get out of my flat, find somewhere else to live. Please leave. Without the please. You remember what’s playing when that sort of thing goes down. Well, you do if you have the sort of brain I do.
I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me), Whitney Houston
My favourite ‘dark story’ in the book involves this upbeat gem of a song. When I was young I really liked Whitney Houston and wanted her first album on tape for my Walkman. But was self-conscious about buying too many albums by women. Weird, right? It was a certain pressure I felt. I don’t feel like that now. But I really only loved the first two Whitney albums. Though I’m sure there’s more gold in them hills if I bothered to look.
Stuntman, Edgar Froese
Another poem that changed title became known as Stuntman. I immediately thought of this piece by Edgar Froese as I thought of the new title. So added it to the soundtrack.
When The Music’s Over, The Doors
The live version of When The Music’s Over is the greatest thing The Doors ever did. I sometimes think that anyway. The first 30-60 seconds of it is absolutely electric. I come and go with The Doors, but when I love them I absolutely love them. This song makes me think of the death of a friendship very vividly for the literal reference of the title.
Choke, The Cardigans
Underrated song by an underrated band. Listen to it when you’re read the poem in the book that obliquely references this and you’ll feel that the song has a whole new level of darkness to it. That’s my hope, at least.
You Don’t Know How It Feels, Tom Petty
I really love Tom Petty’s Wildflowers, it became my favourite “car” album for a long, long time. It was always part of road-trips. I heard it last summer for the first time in a while and because I was already knee-deep in the poetry that makes up this book, the poem called Petty tumbled out. I could hear this song all through the action in the poem as I wrote it.
Rikki Don’t Lose That Number, Steely Dan
A very obvious nod to a name.
Marla [from the Fight Club soundtrack], The Dust Brothers
There’s a poem that references Fight Club, specifically the little nod the characters give each other; they know who they are but they’re not saying. I combed the soundtrack album (which I love) for a piece that would work best as score for my poem. I found Marla, a cue from the film. But also the name of “the girlfriend”. Making it the perfect choice for my soundtrack too.
Most of The Time, Bob Dylan
I could almost say that I’m thinking about this song most of the time actually. It’s one of my favourite Bob Dylan songs, and sometimes just one of my favourite songs. I quote from it often, listen to it a lot, and other times it’s just hovering there like its spectral production. There’s a poem in the book that directly mentions this song. I often think of this song as an indicator of mood, a state of mind, a ‘place’ to be.
On Our Own, Bobby Brown
I bought the Bobby Brown tape on a trip to Gisborne when I was a teenager. I’ve never been back to Gisborne. I’ve never really listened to Bobby Brown since either. These things are not connected. But then, everything is always connected.
Life’s What You Make It, Talk Talk
I mean…
We’ve Started A Fire, Paul Kelly
One of my favourite ‘album tracks’ by one of my favourite songwriters. This song isn’t really mentioned at all, but this music was on my mind when I wrote about fires — both the real (actual) ones and the metaphorical ones.
Be Love Now, Larrek
There’s a poem that mentions Tibetan singing bowls. They are the sort of white person spiritual mumbo-jumbo I can get in to. A bit of woo that works for me. Largely because of the percussive aspect. I bought a singing bowl and set about to make it sing. Then I wrote a poem that suited something around this for its title. And so, I wanted to find a short piece of music that reflects the sound and feel and tone of what I was referencing in my writing.
These Arms of Mine, Otis Redding
One of the all-time great soul ballads. I love this song. It came straight to mind when I was writing about arms. Not my arms. Someone else’s. But still.
Wolf Creek: Main Title [from the Wolf Creek soundtrack], Francois Tetaz
One of the last poems in the book borrows the title from the film Wolf Creek. I wrote it while listening to the soundtrack to the film, Wolf Creek. I think the movie is a bit of profound poetry. I adore it. And its music is truly beautiful.
Comfortably Numb - Live at Pompeii 2016, David Gilmour
I mentioned the “rules” at the top. So I couldn’t have a second Pink Floyd song. But I can if I make it a David Gilmour solo rendition of a Pink Floyd song. This soundtracks and inspired the final poem written for the book, which turns out to be the final poem in the book. I wrote this in September. At the very start of last month. The book was well in its editing phase, and I ran in with my best “Stop The Press” voice and said I had a new thing I needed to add. It was a case of one in, one out. Not because there’s a word limit, just something I thought should happen — if adding something, it’s good to take something away. I removed a poem that had been bugging me because it really didn’t belong in this sequence. I found a way to finally remove it, by adding a poem that so totally belonged.
Can We Still Be Friends?, Todd Rundgren
The other “theme” of the book as an overall musical cue is this Todd Rundgren classic. I love this song. And I think of its use in Dumb & Dumber here. That feels most fitting.
Phew!
If you made it all the way through that you deserve a medal. Here’s a deal: I’ll craft you one if you…