Music Playlist for The Sultan, The Skater, The Bicycle Maker
I decided to make a playlist for my first chapbook. Just for fun. And it was fun, for a while. I liked thinking about poems and thinking about songs, and thinking about why I wanted to pair some of them up. And then I started typing it all up, and some of the fun was lost. So I set my project aside. But I missed it. So I pulled it out again. Here it is. Links are listed in black.
There are 28 poems in this chapbook, each titled after an imagined person. There is a pharaoh and a sultan and an auctioneer and a farmer and a piano tuner and…23 others. They are wildly different people, but I could divide them into two groups: those who are looking for something, and those who have found something, or figured something out. Seekers and finders. For the seekers, I’ll share a song from the BoDeans, “Lookin' for Me Somewhere.” There is something raw and tender and sad in this, but there is hope, too. I’d like to give the seekers some hope. And I really like knowing the BoDeans are somewhere in this list. For the finders, I’d like to share Greg Brown’s “Home in the Sky.” Maybe they already know about it. Maybe they already found it.
“The Clockmaker”
From the beginning of Blue Rodeo’s “The Ballad of the Dime Store Greaser & The Blond Mona Lisa,” we know we’re up against time. There are those seconds ticking by. The song is sad and delicate. I think there is something sad and delicate about “The Clockmaker” too, though it is a different sadness, and a different delicacy. I listened to a lot of Blue Rodeo for a spell, and I listened to this song with my head pressed against many different train windows. I am, inevitably, drawn to sad songs. And trains.
“The Auctioneer”
Drew Nelson is a Michigan songwriter with a newish album, Tilt-A-Whirl, from Red House Records. “Dust” is a song about a family close to losing their farm. “The man from the bank” is coming around, and we can imagine what will come of that. (There also is Leroy Van Dyke’s “Auctioneer Song,” which I know about because someone sang it for me after a poetry reading in Saginaw, Michigan.)
“The Musician”
This poem is a reminder that we can find music almost anywhere. It’s also about a classical musician who is exhausted by the repetition of what he practices. He needs what is wild, and what is different. There’s some feral quality in Florence and the Machine’s “The Dog Days Are Over” that feels right to pair with the poem. There is a moment in the song in which we feel released from something. The tempo increases, instruments are added. Music is all about tension and release, and this song delivers a pretty fine sense of emancipation. I don't much care for the video, though.
“The Calligrapher”
Woody Guthrie’s “I’ll Write and I’ll Draw” is a children's song, but there is something regressive about the calligrapher’s obsession with the lists she writes, so the song feels weirdly appropriate.
“The Pharaoh”
I know I created him, but I think this pharaoh is a twit. Still, I have some sympathy for him. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown. The pharaoh spends his nights drinking beer and ogling a lute player and designing new shapes. He might be better off “Racing in the Street.” Bruce Springsteen’s song is about release and relief. And it wouldn’t hurt for the pharaoh to understand the working man’s life.
“The Jazz Man”
I had Dizzy Gillespie in mind when I wrote this poem, so let’s listen to “A Night in Tunisia.” The poem, in the most specific sense, is set in Chicago, but jazz can take you almost anywhere…Chicago, Tunisia, some small Ohio town.
“The Origamist”
I like the place I inhabit when I am absorbed in work…a satisfying interior world. Artists of all sorts know this feeling, and I imagine the origamist experiences it as he folds and tucks his paper into grasshoppers and frogs. Guy Clark’s “Boats to Build” is a favorite of mine. It is about the pleasure of pursuing what you want, or, really, the pleasure of looking forward to that indulgence. You could, I suppose, change the words to “I’ve got frogs to fold,” but that would be a shame.
“The Apothecary”
I like The Low Anthem and I’m glad they have “Apothecary Love,” which is convenient for my playlist. You’ll hear a harmonica on this song, and I love the harmonica. And you’ll hear a pump organ. There are, in fact, 27 different instruments featured on this album (Smart Flesh). “I swear I want nothing, just give me your hand / I’ve got the cure for the shape that you’re in.” I think my apothecary believes that too.
“The Bicycle Maker”
I’ll pick Pink Floyd’s “Bike” for this. There is a version of this song on youtube with Danny McEvoy and Jasmine Thorpe that feels right. I’ve always thought of this poem as a sort of children’s story, and the video features a young girl (Jasmine Thorpe, I presume) singing.
“The Widow”
This is a poem about intense grief, and, we can only imagine, intense love. I’d like to pair it with Greg Brown’s “Never So Far,” a song which promises, “You are never so far that my love can't find you.” I’d like to give this song to the woman in this poem…an apology for handing her such sadness. Greg Brown’s voice is a kind of promise, a kind of shelter.
“The Soldier”
Hem’s “The Pills Stopped Working” is a song about feeling broken beyond repair. I’m not sure it will comfort the solider much, but it might resonate with him. Sally Ellyson sings beautifully.
“The Brickmaker”
I’d like to hear the brickmaker sing Stan Rogers’s “White Collar Holler.” It’s a field holler. Everyone ought to know one. And I like the idea of pairing a computer programmer from 1980 with a brickmaker from 1729. (I also think of Roger Miller’s “King of the Road.” All of that broom pushing. I think the brickmaker might like it, but I don’t think he’d think two hours of work is much of a hardship. R.E.M. covered this song, and I think I like their version even better than Miller's. But I'll link to Miller...)
“The Whaler’s Wife”
This woman is a little crazy, isn’t she? I think she listened to Tammy Wynette’s “Stand By Your Man” a few too many times…some feat, since the poem is subtitled “New Bedford, Massachusetts, 1871.” Still, the poem and the song feel like companion pieces…women from two different centuries, portraits of fierce loyalty.
“The Recording Engineer”
Well, I think this one has to be Mahler’s Fifth Symphony. Here is the Adagietto. Mahler sent this to Alma as a kind of love letter. It makes me ache. It's tender. So tender. And very lyrical. Leonard Bernstein is conducting. His tempo is a little slower than what you'll hear in some recordings. I like it.
“The Skater”
This poem is built from a single extended comparison between music and ice skating. Skating is compared to an étude, and Debussy is mentioned, so the poem, already, feels paired with a Debussy étude. Maybe we should stick with that. Debussy wrote his études as exercises, but they are art. Similarly, the skater’s exercises become, eventually, her performance. (Note: This poem is proof that writers don’t always write about what they know. Piano did not stick with me, and neither did figure skates. I am learning to play the ukulele. I wear hockey skates.)
“The Sultan”
This is a poem about sexual appetite, and there must be a few thousand songs to pair with it. The Sultan is looking for a powerful aphrodisiac. He’s not limiting himself to one woman, so we shouldn’t limit ourselves to one song. Take your pick:
Bruce Springsteen’s “I’m on Fire”
Greg Brown’s “Let Me Be Your Gigolo”
Bob Dylan’s “I Want You”
The Doors “Light My Fire”
You’ll hear desperation and determination in these songs. I think the Sultan would recognize something familiar.
“The Lacemaker”
It seems as though this poem ought to be paired with something Russian. Maybe a lullaby. Maybe a Cossack dance. Reader, I will let you pick this one.
“The Glassblower”
I’ve always felt there is something seductive about blowing glass. Leonard Cohen’s “Chelsea Hotel No. 2” feels quite appropriate.
“The Scissors Grinder”
The boy in this poem will learn something from his father…it might not be scissor grinding, but something else is happening there. I think of “Standing with You” by the Avett Brothers.
“The Crofter”
“We Shall Overcome” is a protest song, and I think Scottish crofters during the Highland Clearances would have appreciated it. I like Bruce Springsteen’s version on his album We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions.
“The Farmer”
Cheryl Wheeler’s “75 Septembers.” I particularly like the version with John Gorka. (Because I particularly like John Gorka.) This song is about a time that is passing and has passed – and this poem feels, very much, about a time that’s gone.
“The Market Vendor”
Hmmm….Loudon Wainwright’s “Daughter.”
“The Composer”
A straight reading would suggest this ought to be paired with Brahms’s Violin Concerto. And here, again, is Leonard Bernstein.
“The Piano Tuner”
We could listen to something mentioned in this poem, but I can’t pass up an opportunity to add Tom Waits to the playlist. “The Piano Has Been Drinking” even has a piano tuner in it.
“The Ringmaster”
I’d like to pair a book and a song with this. The book: Pablo Ventura’s Winter Stories, which features photographs of extraordinarily detailed miniature sets from imagined circus scenes. The song: Bruce Springsteen’s “Wild Billy’s Circus Story.” (Incidentally, “some small Ohio town,” mentioned in the notes for my poem “The Jazz Man,” are words taken directly from “Wild Billy’s Circus Story.”)
“The Pawnbroker”
This feels like a sad poem in more than a few ways. John Prine’s “Souvenirs” shares a bit of the same sadness. There even is a pawn shop in it.
“The Cow Callers”
This poem, originally titled “Sweden, 1847,” needs something clear and pure. It needs the voices of women. I think of the Wailin’ Jennys and, in particular, their song “One Voice.”
“The Islander”
This poem was originally called “Isle Royale, 1928.” It ends with the image of fruit floating to shore in Lake Superior. The fruit is from the Steamer America, which sunk in June of 1928 off Isle Royale. There is a strong sense of place in this poem, and it would seem fitting to couple it with a song about the Great Lakes. And yet, we could head somewhere else, couldn’t we? I’ve always imagined the woman in this poem lives alone, and I’ve always imagined this solitude pleases her. So let’s give her Wilco’s “Born Alone.”
There are 28 poems in this chapbook, each titled after an imagined person. There is a pharaoh and a sultan and an auctioneer and a farmer and a piano tuner and…23 others. They are wildly different people, but I could divide them into two groups: those who are looking for something, and those who have found something, or figured something out. Seekers and finders. For the seekers, I’ll share a song from the BoDeans, “Lookin' for Me Somewhere.” There is something raw and tender and sad in this, but there is hope, too. I’d like to give the seekers some hope. And I really like knowing the BoDeans are somewhere in this list. For the finders, I’d like to share Greg Brown’s “Home in the Sky.” Maybe they already know about it. Maybe they already found it.
“The Clockmaker”
From the beginning of Blue Rodeo’s “The Ballad of the Dime Store Greaser & The Blond Mona Lisa,” we know we’re up against time. There are those seconds ticking by. The song is sad and delicate. I think there is something sad and delicate about “The Clockmaker” too, though it is a different sadness, and a different delicacy. I listened to a lot of Blue Rodeo for a spell, and I listened to this song with my head pressed against many different train windows. I am, inevitably, drawn to sad songs. And trains.
“The Auctioneer”
Drew Nelson is a Michigan songwriter with a newish album, Tilt-A-Whirl, from Red House Records. “Dust” is a song about a family close to losing their farm. “The man from the bank” is coming around, and we can imagine what will come of that. (There also is Leroy Van Dyke’s “Auctioneer Song,” which I know about because someone sang it for me after a poetry reading in Saginaw, Michigan.)
“The Musician”
This poem is a reminder that we can find music almost anywhere. It’s also about a classical musician who is exhausted by the repetition of what he practices. He needs what is wild, and what is different. There’s some feral quality in Florence and the Machine’s “The Dog Days Are Over” that feels right to pair with the poem. There is a moment in the song in which we feel released from something. The tempo increases, instruments are added. Music is all about tension and release, and this song delivers a pretty fine sense of emancipation. I don't much care for the video, though.
“The Calligrapher”
Woody Guthrie’s “I’ll Write and I’ll Draw” is a children's song, but there is something regressive about the calligrapher’s obsession with the lists she writes, so the song feels weirdly appropriate.
“The Pharaoh”
I know I created him, but I think this pharaoh is a twit. Still, I have some sympathy for him. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown. The pharaoh spends his nights drinking beer and ogling a lute player and designing new shapes. He might be better off “Racing in the Street.” Bruce Springsteen’s song is about release and relief. And it wouldn’t hurt for the pharaoh to understand the working man’s life.
“The Jazz Man”
I had Dizzy Gillespie in mind when I wrote this poem, so let’s listen to “A Night in Tunisia.” The poem, in the most specific sense, is set in Chicago, but jazz can take you almost anywhere…Chicago, Tunisia, some small Ohio town.
“The Origamist”
I like the place I inhabit when I am absorbed in work…a satisfying interior world. Artists of all sorts know this feeling, and I imagine the origamist experiences it as he folds and tucks his paper into grasshoppers and frogs. Guy Clark’s “Boats to Build” is a favorite of mine. It is about the pleasure of pursuing what you want, or, really, the pleasure of looking forward to that indulgence. You could, I suppose, change the words to “I’ve got frogs to fold,” but that would be a shame.
“The Apothecary”
I like The Low Anthem and I’m glad they have “Apothecary Love,” which is convenient for my playlist. You’ll hear a harmonica on this song, and I love the harmonica. And you’ll hear a pump organ. There are, in fact, 27 different instruments featured on this album (Smart Flesh). “I swear I want nothing, just give me your hand / I’ve got the cure for the shape that you’re in.” I think my apothecary believes that too.
“The Bicycle Maker”
I’ll pick Pink Floyd’s “Bike” for this. There is a version of this song on youtube with Danny McEvoy and Jasmine Thorpe that feels right. I’ve always thought of this poem as a sort of children’s story, and the video features a young girl (Jasmine Thorpe, I presume) singing.
“The Widow”
This is a poem about intense grief, and, we can only imagine, intense love. I’d like to pair it with Greg Brown’s “Never So Far,” a song which promises, “You are never so far that my love can't find you.” I’d like to give this song to the woman in this poem…an apology for handing her such sadness. Greg Brown’s voice is a kind of promise, a kind of shelter.
“The Soldier”
Hem’s “The Pills Stopped Working” is a song about feeling broken beyond repair. I’m not sure it will comfort the solider much, but it might resonate with him. Sally Ellyson sings beautifully.
“The Brickmaker”
I’d like to hear the brickmaker sing Stan Rogers’s “White Collar Holler.” It’s a field holler. Everyone ought to know one. And I like the idea of pairing a computer programmer from 1980 with a brickmaker from 1729. (I also think of Roger Miller’s “King of the Road.” All of that broom pushing. I think the brickmaker might like it, but I don’t think he’d think two hours of work is much of a hardship. R.E.M. covered this song, and I think I like their version even better than Miller's. But I'll link to Miller...)
“The Whaler’s Wife”
This woman is a little crazy, isn’t she? I think she listened to Tammy Wynette’s “Stand By Your Man” a few too many times…some feat, since the poem is subtitled “New Bedford, Massachusetts, 1871.” Still, the poem and the song feel like companion pieces…women from two different centuries, portraits of fierce loyalty.
“The Recording Engineer”
Well, I think this one has to be Mahler’s Fifth Symphony. Here is the Adagietto. Mahler sent this to Alma as a kind of love letter. It makes me ache. It's tender. So tender. And very lyrical. Leonard Bernstein is conducting. His tempo is a little slower than what you'll hear in some recordings. I like it.
“The Skater”
This poem is built from a single extended comparison between music and ice skating. Skating is compared to an étude, and Debussy is mentioned, so the poem, already, feels paired with a Debussy étude. Maybe we should stick with that. Debussy wrote his études as exercises, but they are art. Similarly, the skater’s exercises become, eventually, her performance. (Note: This poem is proof that writers don’t always write about what they know. Piano did not stick with me, and neither did figure skates. I am learning to play the ukulele. I wear hockey skates.)
“The Sultan”
This is a poem about sexual appetite, and there must be a few thousand songs to pair with it. The Sultan is looking for a powerful aphrodisiac. He’s not limiting himself to one woman, so we shouldn’t limit ourselves to one song. Take your pick:
Bruce Springsteen’s “I’m on Fire”
Greg Brown’s “Let Me Be Your Gigolo”
Bob Dylan’s “I Want You”
The Doors “Light My Fire”
You’ll hear desperation and determination in these songs. I think the Sultan would recognize something familiar.
“The Lacemaker”
It seems as though this poem ought to be paired with something Russian. Maybe a lullaby. Maybe a Cossack dance. Reader, I will let you pick this one.
“The Glassblower”
I’ve always felt there is something seductive about blowing glass. Leonard Cohen’s “Chelsea Hotel No. 2” feels quite appropriate.
“The Scissors Grinder”
The boy in this poem will learn something from his father…it might not be scissor grinding, but something else is happening there. I think of “Standing with You” by the Avett Brothers.
“The Crofter”
“We Shall Overcome” is a protest song, and I think Scottish crofters during the Highland Clearances would have appreciated it. I like Bruce Springsteen’s version on his album We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions.
“The Farmer”
Cheryl Wheeler’s “75 Septembers.” I particularly like the version with John Gorka. (Because I particularly like John Gorka.) This song is about a time that is passing and has passed – and this poem feels, very much, about a time that’s gone.
“The Market Vendor”
Hmmm….Loudon Wainwright’s “Daughter.”
“The Composer”
A straight reading would suggest this ought to be paired with Brahms’s Violin Concerto. And here, again, is Leonard Bernstein.
“The Piano Tuner”
We could listen to something mentioned in this poem, but I can’t pass up an opportunity to add Tom Waits to the playlist. “The Piano Has Been Drinking” even has a piano tuner in it.
“The Ringmaster”
I’d like to pair a book and a song with this. The book: Pablo Ventura’s Winter Stories, which features photographs of extraordinarily detailed miniature sets from imagined circus scenes. The song: Bruce Springsteen’s “Wild Billy’s Circus Story.” (Incidentally, “some small Ohio town,” mentioned in the notes for my poem “The Jazz Man,” are words taken directly from “Wild Billy’s Circus Story.”)
“The Pawnbroker”
This feels like a sad poem in more than a few ways. John Prine’s “Souvenirs” shares a bit of the same sadness. There even is a pawn shop in it.
“The Cow Callers”
This poem, originally titled “Sweden, 1847,” needs something clear and pure. It needs the voices of women. I think of the Wailin’ Jennys and, in particular, their song “One Voice.”
“The Islander”
This poem was originally called “Isle Royale, 1928.” It ends with the image of fruit floating to shore in Lake Superior. The fruit is from the Steamer America, which sunk in June of 1928 off Isle Royale. There is a strong sense of place in this poem, and it would seem fitting to couple it with a song about the Great Lakes. And yet, we could head somewhere else, couldn’t we? I’ve always imagined the woman in this poem lives alone, and I’ve always imagined this solitude pleases her. So let’s give her Wilco’s “Born Alone.”