All right, all right. Let's take a break from translating from Portuguese—these days I'm working on Orlando da Costa's novel O Último Olhar de Manú Miranda and Vimala Devi's first book of poems, Súria—to sit back, crack a beer, and tip our hats, proverbial or otherwise, to some of the translators whose work serves to reinforce not only the belief (shared by not only yours truly but millions of Buddhists, Daoists, and other folks far more with it than me, and that's just talkin' about the quote unquote spiritual side) but the very tangible fact that we are all connected. Maybe this'll become a regular column, since, as you should know by now, translation is an undertaking near and dear to Your Humble Corpse's heart. I read a lot of work in translation, and while the work may get acclaim, the person who translated it is often overlooked or relegated to an afterthought. Which is bullshit: there's so much translating going on these days that the world as we know it couldn't function without it. (No, Google Translate is not an acceptable substitute, and never will be, except maybe when Google Translate is making an attempt at rendering AI-only languages human-readable.)
Anyway, since y'all know how much I like classical Chinese poetry, let's start with Chloe Garcia Roberts, who's produced two deeply awesome books based on the work of 李商隱 Li Shangyin. For the sake of background, Li Shangyin was a late Tang dynasty poet known for allusively dense, sensual poems. I learned about him during my slow, ongoing studies of 李長吉 Li Changji, AKA 李賀 Li He; Li Shangyin wrote 李賀小傳, the first biography of Li Changji. In my book, that alone makes him cool, so when I started reading his poetry—in English, via Chloe Garcia Roberts' translations—I was stoked to find (yet another) Chinese poet whose work I dig.
But enough about Li Shangyin, of whom you can read more about online. Let's talk about CGR's awesome translations, specifically Derangements of My Contemporaries: Miscellaneous Notes. Even if one sets aside the poems' specific historic aspects, which I don't recommend doing because it's important to remember that these poems (which, as the title implies, are mostly Li Shangyin's notes, themselves a literary genre in China) are over a thousand fuckin' years old, were written amidst a culture wildly different not only from our Western one but in many ways from that of modern China, yet still manage to sound modern and meaningful. I can't stress this enough: Derangements of My Contemporaries reads like an utterly contemporary document, an insightful, no-bullshit account of how shitty people can be, our small quotidian hypocrisies, the protocols we routinely breach.
"Vexing"
[...]
Enjoying drink the whole night, then finding the wine vessel empty
[...]
Wearing unreliable clothing
A fan that doesn't shoo flies or mosquitoes
"Displeasure"
Cutting something with a dull knife
[...]
Trees darkening the view
[...]
Summer months wearing thick clothing
"Crippling Injustices"
[...]
To have money yet be unable to effect change
[...]
Grudging one's mouth food
[...]
Grudging one's body clothing
[...]
For a family to collect books and not appreciate reading
[...]
When near fine mountains and waters, to not wander in delight
[...]
A much-honored official committing a bribery offense
Li Shangyin, via Chloe Garcia Roberts' intuitive rendering, goes on at length in this fashion. It's easy to read snobbery into some of his words; after all, he was a scholar-official, versed (zing!) in poetry and aesthetics to a degree practically nobody else in the China of his time could hope for, but writing him off for that reason is lazy, ahistorical bullshit. What I love is how Roberts has taken these terse lists of observations and made poetry out of them. For her, as well as Li Shangyin, life itself is the stuff of poetry (groan, boring, I know, but fuck it, it's true), and snarky remarks about your coworkers and the random people you see in the street are no less worthy of being made poetry—hell, no less poetic by nature—than anything else. Nature, after all, encompasses everything; ergo nothing is unnatural, and thus can be fitted into "nature" poetry. People especially.
Since I'm not of a terribly analytical bent, I think I'll cease my commentary here. I'll close out by recommending that all y'all check out Chloe Garcia Roberts' translations of Li Shangyin. She apparently has had some poetry of her own published, and I'd be willing to bet it's awesome too. But since we're talking about translation, I'll reiterate that Derangements of My Contemporaries and her expanded Li Shangyin book are worth your time. I'm super-stoked to see someone making it crystal-clear that classical Chinese poetry resonates with our world; I have exactly zero doubts that you will read Chloe Garcia Roberts' work and understand that Li Shangyin is a voice in and out of time.
Thanks, Chloe. You're the kind of translator I want to be, and 李商隱 is honored to have had you share his work with the English-speaking world.
DAS/史大偉
Monday, June 10, 2019
Saturday, June 01, 2019
Our Time is Up, We've Had Our Chance: Allagash's Cryptic Visions
I don't remember how I first heard about Allagash (named after the 1976 Allagash abductions, not the brewery), but odds are it was from my friend Shari, a Newfoundland native and fellow metalhead. Neither of us is old enough to remember the peak of Newfie UFO madness, and I doubt the dudes from Allagash are either. But that's okay. Heavy metal, after all, is bigger than us all, and may even be a new form of religion developing before our eyes, somewhat along the lines of what Diana Pasulka argues about belief in UFOs in her intriguing but sometimes too-good-to-be-true book American Cosmic.*
Cryptic Visions begins with the intro piece "Take Warning," which presents a vision less cryptic than it is idealistic; and given the source of that vision, it's easy to read it as pure speechifying bullshit, since during the course of his doddering, star-poisoned presidency Ronald Reagan was more than happy to start or foment wars, including those that could have led to the extinction of most of the planet's human population. That said, the sentiment is completely in line with the apocalyptic alien-encounter themes that have run through all of Allagash's albums**, and it serves as a callback to older thrash bands' fears of nuclear annihilation and other late Cold War dreads.
It only makes sense that "Beware the Light," the first song—no, I'm not going to prod every song as if I was some almond-eyed Grey mutilating cattle; well, not too much—relies upon Ronnie Raygun's even more spiritually and economically bankrupt, exponentially less appealing, yet possibly far more destructive political descendant, Donald J. Trump, for its title and closing sound bite. ("Sound bite" — as if that semen-stained frat-house pillowcase of a man were capable of speaking at length about anything other than a handful of masturbatory topics.) This total ripper uses the contents of that sound bite for its chorus as well, only to decry the misery that would fall upon everyone after unleashing the fire and fury with which Trump threatened North Korea (which I'm almost 100% sure he can't find on a map without an aide's help). As in every song that follows, the rhythm section is incredibly tight here, and it contributes immensely to the overall awesomeness of this album.
Whenever I hear "Evil Intent" I think of Judas Priest, specifically "Leather Rebel" from Painkiller. The songs aren't dead ringers by any stretch, not least because Mooncrawler's vocals are nothing like Rob Halford's and nobody can recreate the Downing/Tipton magic, but fuck me if the riffs don't tear along at a similar breakneck pace and the energy isn't on the same wavelength. In my book, if you can be honestly compared to Judas Priest, you're doing something right, and while I've been a fan of Allagash for a while, this is the first time I've thought of Priest while listening to them.
And goddamn, they keep doing things right. "Strange Metal" pairs triumphant guitar work and up-and-down speed that belies the rather underwhelming evidence that came from the Roswell debris field, closing with a sample of someone explaining that sunburned New Mexico event. "From the Dark" follows a similar trajectory, but this time the chorus plays against expectations by never actually using the song's title, but instead builds a sort of reverse coda from a general description ("back from the shadows") to the details of an alien abduction or imprisonment. Once more, the riffage is just fuckin' killer.
"Privacy Invaders" is the weakest track on the album. It's not bad, but man, the cadence of the choruses falls flat. The lyrics are hit or miss, too; in that sense they feel like a lot of other metal songs that over the years have warned listeners against encroaching technologies and social changes, so I cut them some slack. Still, not my favorite song here.
"Under Watchful Skies" and "Eagle Lake"—the latter being where the Allagash encounters supposedly happened in Maine 43 years ago— open with the clean acoustic/partial synth intros that Allagash have used on a number of other tracks (my favorites being "The Truth is Out There (It's Getting Closer)" from their first record, and "Canadian Encounters" from the EP of the same name). After the lead-in, the former song launches into a frantic four and a half minutes that echo, musically and lyrically, the paranoia of ages past, not just about aliens but our own fucked-up human situation. Allow me to cite the lyrics:
there is nothing we can do to change this mess we've made
so sit back and relax
the damage shows destruction's here to stay
there's no turning back
they wait and watch for us to change our ways
but we no longer care
our time is up, we've had our chance
the end now lingers in the air
the day they come
don't be surprised
we know something's wrong here
under watchful skies
I'm not one to argue with those who claim that we're neck-deep in the Anthropocene, that humanity has basically fucked itself (and, far more sadly, countless other Terran species) out of prolonged existence, but I don't think aliens are watching over us and weeping at our idiocy, no more than God(s) is/are sitting around in the empyrean hoping we'll get our shit together. No, humankind has doomed itself, and if there are extraterrestrials looking on, they're simply waiting to pick up the pieces. Why wouldn't they wait until this blot on an otherwise unstained planet has faded and come in to enjoy it in ways that homo sapiens couldn't? (They'll probably act like us and assume everything is a resource for their own use, of course, and simply be ETI scumbags to our terrestrial parade of selfish dunces, so it's not like I'm eager for aliens to show up. Space brothers they ain't.)
But I digress. "Eagle Lake" continues the Allagash tradition of ending albums with an instrumental piece, though in this case it's even longer and more varied than "Canadian Encounters." It's exactly the kind of interesting and thought-provoking piece that this music demands. You get some samples, some synth, some intensity—it's all there.
In lieu of some kind of summary paragraph, I'll leave y'all with this line by Charles Foltz, one of the Allagash abductees. Take it as you will, 'cause I'm sure as shit not nailing it down to one specific use.
"This happened. If you believe, that's all right. If you don't believe it, I don't care."
Stay weird, dudes, and enjoy this album. I know I did, and will continue to do so for a long time. Maybe even until the Greys arrive.
DAS
*Someone could probably write a religious studies paper about the mystical aspects of heavy metal, including things that might be considered its miracles, and convincingly tie it into the weird, dubious continuum of ufological belief and experience; for example, I (uh, I mean, they) could talk about Hypocrisy, whose alien thematics are frequent and reflect existing UFO paranoia and pop culture, while adding a layer of ominousness that only the best X-Files episodes could manage, and whose frontman, Peter Tägtren, is arguably an extraterrestrial himself. (Maybe it's just me and my brother who think that last bit, but hey, don't rule it out.)
**Cryptic Visions is technically Allagash's second full-length, with Canadian Encounters serving as the EP between them. But once upon a time, there was a second album called Dark Future that never saw the official light of day; it was on YouTube for a while before it was taken down. Note that the link will lead you to a dead end, which is intentional; consider it Allagash's episode of missing time. You may be able to dredge up the album elsewhere.
Cryptic Visions begins with the intro piece "Take Warning," which presents a vision less cryptic than it is idealistic; and given the source of that vision, it's easy to read it as pure speechifying bullshit, since during the course of his doddering, star-poisoned presidency Ronald Reagan was more than happy to start or foment wars, including those that could have led to the extinction of most of the planet's human population. That said, the sentiment is completely in line with the apocalyptic alien-encounter themes that have run through all of Allagash's albums**, and it serves as a callback to older thrash bands' fears of nuclear annihilation and other late Cold War dreads.
It only makes sense that "Beware the Light," the first song—no, I'm not going to prod every song as if I was some almond-eyed Grey mutilating cattle; well, not too much—relies upon Ronnie Raygun's even more spiritually and economically bankrupt, exponentially less appealing, yet possibly far more destructive political descendant, Donald J. Trump, for its title and closing sound bite. ("Sound bite" — as if that semen-stained frat-house pillowcase of a man were capable of speaking at length about anything other than a handful of masturbatory topics.) This total ripper uses the contents of that sound bite for its chorus as well, only to decry the misery that would fall upon everyone after unleashing the fire and fury with which Trump threatened North Korea (which I'm almost 100% sure he can't find on a map without an aide's help). As in every song that follows, the rhythm section is incredibly tight here, and it contributes immensely to the overall awesomeness of this album.
Whenever I hear "Evil Intent" I think of Judas Priest, specifically "Leather Rebel" from Painkiller. The songs aren't dead ringers by any stretch, not least because Mooncrawler's vocals are nothing like Rob Halford's and nobody can recreate the Downing/Tipton magic, but fuck me if the riffs don't tear along at a similar breakneck pace and the energy isn't on the same wavelength. In my book, if you can be honestly compared to Judas Priest, you're doing something right, and while I've been a fan of Allagash for a while, this is the first time I've thought of Priest while listening to them.
And goddamn, they keep doing things right. "Strange Metal" pairs triumphant guitar work and up-and-down speed that belies the rather underwhelming evidence that came from the Roswell debris field, closing with a sample of someone explaining that sunburned New Mexico event. "From the Dark" follows a similar trajectory, but this time the chorus plays against expectations by never actually using the song's title, but instead builds a sort of reverse coda from a general description ("back from the shadows") to the details of an alien abduction or imprisonment. Once more, the riffage is just fuckin' killer.
"Privacy Invaders" is the weakest track on the album. It's not bad, but man, the cadence of the choruses falls flat. The lyrics are hit or miss, too; in that sense they feel like a lot of other metal songs that over the years have warned listeners against encroaching technologies and social changes, so I cut them some slack. Still, not my favorite song here.
"Under Watchful Skies" and "Eagle Lake"—the latter being where the Allagash encounters supposedly happened in Maine 43 years ago— open with the clean acoustic/partial synth intros that Allagash have used on a number of other tracks (my favorites being "The Truth is Out There (It's Getting Closer)" from their first record, and "Canadian Encounters" from the EP of the same name). After the lead-in, the former song launches into a frantic four and a half minutes that echo, musically and lyrically, the paranoia of ages past, not just about aliens but our own fucked-up human situation. Allow me to cite the lyrics:
there is nothing we can do to change this mess we've made
so sit back and relax
the damage shows destruction's here to stay
there's no turning back
they wait and watch for us to change our ways
but we no longer care
our time is up, we've had our chance
the end now lingers in the air
the day they come
don't be surprised
we know something's wrong here
under watchful skies
I'm not one to argue with those who claim that we're neck-deep in the Anthropocene, that humanity has basically fucked itself (and, far more sadly, countless other Terran species) out of prolonged existence, but I don't think aliens are watching over us and weeping at our idiocy, no more than God(s) is/are sitting around in the empyrean hoping we'll get our shit together. No, humankind has doomed itself, and if there are extraterrestrials looking on, they're simply waiting to pick up the pieces. Why wouldn't they wait until this blot on an otherwise unstained planet has faded and come in to enjoy it in ways that homo sapiens couldn't? (They'll probably act like us and assume everything is a resource for their own use, of course, and simply be ETI scumbags to our terrestrial parade of selfish dunces, so it's not like I'm eager for aliens to show up. Space brothers they ain't.)
But I digress. "Eagle Lake" continues the Allagash tradition of ending albums with an instrumental piece, though in this case it's even longer and more varied than "Canadian Encounters." It's exactly the kind of interesting and thought-provoking piece that this music demands. You get some samples, some synth, some intensity—it's all there.
In lieu of some kind of summary paragraph, I'll leave y'all with this line by Charles Foltz, one of the Allagash abductees. Take it as you will, 'cause I'm sure as shit not nailing it down to one specific use.
"This happened. If you believe, that's all right. If you don't believe it, I don't care."
Stay weird, dudes, and enjoy this album. I know I did, and will continue to do so for a long time. Maybe even until the Greys arrive.
DAS
*Someone could probably write a religious studies paper about the mystical aspects of heavy metal, including things that might be considered its miracles, and convincingly tie it into the weird, dubious continuum of ufological belief and experience; for example, I (uh, I mean, they) could talk about Hypocrisy, whose alien thematics are frequent and reflect existing UFO paranoia and pop culture, while adding a layer of ominousness that only the best X-Files episodes could manage, and whose frontman, Peter Tägtren, is arguably an extraterrestrial himself. (Maybe it's just me and my brother who think that last bit, but hey, don't rule it out.)
**Cryptic Visions is technically Allagash's second full-length, with Canadian Encounters serving as the EP between them. But once upon a time, there was a second album called Dark Future that never saw the official light of day; it was on YouTube for a while before it was taken down. Note that the link will lead you to a dead end, which is intentional; consider it Allagash's episode of missing time. You may be able to dredge up the album elsewhere.
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