Sad news, Adam Yauch, of the Beastie Boys, has died. It is perhaps hard to recall but there was a moment, a genuine one, in 1986 and 1987, when they were the biggest sound in music, in the world. I was in Berlin around that time, bumming around for a few months, and Licensed To Ill was the smartass-ultracool rowdy soundtrack of that summer. Yauch, part of the first great white rap group, is now timeless. No sleep, in peace.
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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