The summer of 2010 offers more YouTubeable "music video" pleasures than a boy from the 80s like me could have imagined, when Frankie was all the rage on MTV. "Love The Way You Lie" starring Megan Fox and Dominic Monaghan is striking, not least for the way it pressures ideas of American irony in popular culture ("I like the way it hurts" is either sick or ironic or both). Upping the visual ante is the Abbaesque "Alejandro", which brilliantly manages to combine all the Spanish provocations of Un Chien Andalou with the Erotica eroism of Madonna at her best - and makes the slinky use of latex in dance a must (Ms. Gaga borrows heavily from the stomping and bed antics of Quebec dance pieces like Joe, and choreographers like Edouard Lock). Then there is the joyful summer fun of "Pack Up" by Eliza Doolittle. And, better than all of this, is the female second coming of the master sex machine himself, James Brown, in the shape of Janelle Monae's utterly compelling "Tightrope", with a dance set in a bizarre sci-fi insane ward featuring Malcolm X-type hipsters shimmying amid the electro-shock corridors. Music, image, and text, in 2010, may be digitally finger-tip present and accounted for, but it is surely superbly imaginative and fascinating. The present is as good as it gets, is now, and makes most poetry seem lame and less-than-thrilling. Frank O'Hara once said movies are better than most poetry. He would now say, surely, that digiclips present the new delightful competition. Give it up?
THAT HANDSOME MAN A PERSONAL BRIEF REVIEW BY TODD SWIFT I could lie and claim Larkin, Yeats , or Dylan Thomas most excited me as a young poet, or even Pound or FT Prince - but the truth be told, it was Thom Gunn I first and most loved when I was young. Precisely, I fell in love with his first two collections, written under a formalist, Elizabethan ( Fulke Greville mainly), Yvor Winters triad of influences - uniquely fused with an interest in homerotica, pop culture ( Brando, Elvis , motorcycles). His best poem 'On The Move' is oddly presented here without the quote that began it usually - Man, you gotta go - which I loved. Gunn was - and remains - so thrilling, to me at least, because so odd. His elegance, poise, and intelligence is all about display, about surface - but the surface of a panther, who ripples with strength beneath the skin. With Gunn, you dressed to have sex. Or so I thought. Because I was queer (I maintain the right to lay claim to that
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