Deleuzional

In 1984 I sat in on a philosophy class at the University of St. Denis in Paris.
Gilles Deleuze was quite a figure, hunched at a desk in the center of the crowded room with his shaggy mane of hair and his long uncut scary-looking fingernails. He was surrounded by a multitude of disciples and mini-cassette recorders spread out on the desk in front of him. I did not realize until recently that he exited this terrestrial globe by throwing himself off of a building. I decided to compose a belated elegy to this grand philosopher which you may read below. There is also mention of Guy Debord (whose philosophy inspired Malcolm McLaren among others).

 
 
A schiz-flow elegy for Gilles Deleuze

Beware lest anyone cheat you through philosophy and empty deceit,
according to the tradition of men,
according to the basic principles of the world,
and not according to Christ

Colossians 2:4-8 (NKJV)

His Nietzschean trip moved from Comic toward Tragic:
Deleuze’s delusions flew out the fenêtre
Airborne and stoned on philosophy’s magic
(the nihilist suicide’s raison d’être…)
Propelled from the window, transcending the Ontic,
his organless body in textual flight,
a schiz-flow beyond on a voyage turned frantic.
His thought – a nomadic adornment for speed,
multiplicitly viewing a thousand plateaux
was a force for unhinging the doorways of light
and a plea for postmodern decoding indeed.
His frame soon encountered pure striated space
in the form of the pavement caressing his face.

He joins other smokers of Gallic tabac,
other esotericians of cognitive frenzy
(those mullahs of madness, those sultans of Whack)
Sorely missed by his victims, disciples and friends
he is mourned, misinterpreted, copied, dismissed . . .
(but for semioticians he heads up the list).

Another brave Frenchman, some guy named Debord
a bespectacled Marxist who missed all the marks
made the medium’s message a radical bore
dialectically fading the lights into darks.
Indirectly disrupting pop-culture with Punk
and other anarchic phenomena-junk,
he too chose to leave with a nihilist bang—
while we whimper and suffer down here with the gang.
The old situationist’s last situation:
an agit-prop funeral short on elation.

So to French de-constructor-philosopher-ravers
and all who rejoice while society wavers
I offer these lines, like a quick coup-de-grace
and be warned—they’re now viewing the Good Lord en face.

IMAGE CREDIT: webdeleuze.com

Papa Malcolm Punks it Up

Something about the chord changes in this song moves me, and it has been stuck in my subconscious since the mid 80’s.
The urinating goat is a rustic touch. The Kung-Fu film shots, the fancy footwork, the great guitar sound and the serious singing by the Queens cancel out the fact that Malcolm is making an ass of himself. I want to know what the lyrics are to this song from Duck Rock (1983). This is one of the craziest African grooves I know of. The guy with the shades reminds me of J.J. (“DY-no-MITE”) from Good Times. If I were to tell you more about why I love this song, you wouldn’t believe me…

The only words I can make out as sung by the Mahotella Queens (if it is indeed them) :

♪♫ ♫  “Oh no you can’t change the world  –
Sorry forever / then you get up and go…”
♪♪ ♫♪♫

See Jungle See Jungle

jungle book

Speaking of Jungle poetry, I just found out that one of my favorite jungle songs, Jungle Boy [from the 1981 album  “See Jungle See Jungle Go Join Your Gang Yeah City All Over Go Ape Crazy” by Bow Wow Wow] was plagiarized by Malcolm McLaren. I never found out until now that it was an English language cover of  the 1973 song Umculo Kawupheli by the Mahotella Queens from South Africa. If you like Afro-pop it is interesting to listen to these two songs side by side. McLaren lifted other songs from this band as well – you can hear them on Duck Rock. I always liked the cartoony apocalyptic lyrics of Jungle Boy as Annabella Lwin sung them, but I have no idea what the words of the original version by Mahotella Queens means.

MAHOTELLA QUEENS
BOW WOW WOW   For lyrics to “Jungle Boy” click here

Deleuzional

In 1984 I sat in on a philosophy class at the University of St. Denis in Paris.
Gilles Deleuze was quite a figure, hunched at a desk in the center of the crowded room with his shaggy mane of hair and his long uncut scary-looking fingernails. He was surrounded by a multitude of disciples and mini-cassette recorders spread out on the desk in front of him. I did not realize until recently that he exited this terrestrial globe by throwing himself off of a building. I decided to compose a belated elegy to this grand philosopher which you may read below. There is also mention of Guy Debord (whose philosophy inspired Malcolm McLaren among others).
I still have a place in my heart for the Sex Pistols, Bow Wow Wow, and especially that great and groovy global mix Duck Rock .
Debord shot himself.  McLaren passed away in 2010.

Do you think any of them will be in heaven?

 
 
A schiz-flow elegy for Gilles Deleuze

Beware lest anyone cheat you through philosophy and empty deceit,
according to the tradition of men,
according to the basic principles of the world,
and not according to Christ

Colossians 2:4-8 (NKJV)

His Nietzschean trip moved from Comic toward Tragic:
Deleuze’s delusions flew out the fenêtre
Airborne and stoned on philosophy’s magic
(the nihilist suicide’s raison d’être…)
Propelled from the window, transcending the Ontic,
his organless body in textual flight,
a schiz-flow beyond on a voyage turned frantic.
His thought – a nomadic adornment for speed,
multiplicitly viewing a thousand plateaux
was a force for unhinging the doorways of light
and a plea for postmodern decoding indeed.
His frame soon encountered pure striated space
in the form of the pavement caressing his face.

He joins other smokers of Gallic tabac,
other esotericians of cognitive frenzy
(those mullahs of madness, those sultans of Whack…)
Sorely missed by his victims, disciples and friends
he is mourned, misinterpreted, copied, dismissed
– but for semioticians he heads up the list.

Another brave Frenchman, some guy named Debord
a bespectacled Marxist (who missed all the marks)
made the medium’s message a radical bore
dialectically fading the lights into darks.
Indirectly disrupting pop-culture with Punk
and other anarchic phenomena-junk,
he too chose to leave with a nihilist bang –
while we whimper and suffer down here with the gang.
The old situationist’s last situation:
an agit-prop funeral short on elation…

So to French de-constructor-philosopher-ravers
and all who rejoice while society wavers
I offer these lines, like a quick coup-de-grace
and be warned – they’re now viewing the Good Lord en face.

IMAGE CREDIT: webdeleuze.com