Trebor Healey’s Perfect Scars

Happy September everybody…

 

And thanks to all of you who have registered for this labor of love of mine. It’s refreshing and encouraging as a writer to see so much interest in cutting-edge literature and Latino writers, considering how “out the door” reading (in general) is considered during these times of “digital dependence”.

 

Trebor Healey, who is gracing the cover of the September 1 issue of Ambiente, has been writing for a long time and is one of the first “independently minded” writers I met before embarking to Southern California and Baja Mexico Norte in 2004, to finish my self-published novel, Buzz and Israel, in imaginary exile. Trebor and I have continued to keep in touch and have had the unusual luck of running into each other in Los Angeles, New Orleans, Portland, Oregon, and New York.   

 

Trebor agreed to chat about his favorite Latino writers, editing the breakthrough volume Queer and Catholic and more…

 

As published in Ambiente http://www.ambiente.us

 

 

Queer and Catholic editor Trebor Healey’s Perfect Scars

 

Writer, poet, and Queer and Catholic (Routledge, 2008) coeditor Trebor Healey’s debut novel Through It Came Bright Colors (Haworth, 2003) followed the melancholy and eye-opening rite of passage of Neill Cullane, a sensitive and withdrawn young man whose brother has been diagnosed with cancer. Through this experience Neill meets a punk/radical thinker who has also been diagnosed with cancer, Vince. Vince and Neill become doomed lovers, meeting in private at Vince’s San Francisco “junkie” hotel room, where their dynamic relationship unravels.

 

Through It Came Bright Colors was followed by the poetry collection Sweet Son of Pan (Suspect Thoughts, 2006) and Rebel Satori Press has recently republished Trebor’s short story collection A Perfect Scar (2009). Trebor lives in Los Angeles and agreed to answer some questions regarding his new fiction collection and the groundbreaking, iconoclastic volume Queer and Catholic, which I highly recommend to any LGBT person who has experienced the painful condemnation Catholic culture has unleashed on us for being who we are.  

 

CV: You co-edited the impressive volume Queer and Catholic (Taylor and Francis, 2008), which broke new ground in queer academia. How does your Catholic upbringing inform your fiction writing? As a Latino reader (and fellow ex-Catholic) I found myself entranced by your depictions of Mexican towns and religious ritual and artifact.

 

TH: One of the reasons I did that book is because I think one’s Catholic upbringing does inform one’s image base if you will, and to some extent, one’s world view. I globbed onto Kerouac when I was young because of his Catholic imagery and always wanted to explore how Catholicism influenced writers—especially queer writers. On the one hand, I value the very old world poetry and philosophy of Catholic culture, which is so unlike the predominantly Protestant American culture, but I also disdain the cynical abuse of catholic theology that destroys lives through apathy, alcohol, sexual abuse and fascism (the full flowering of catholic shadow). For those who shake it off, it makes for very good comedy and for those who connect to its earthy, pagan subculture it’s quite beautiful and profound.

 

CV: You mentioned that you wanted to “explore how Catholicism influenced [queer] writers”—what’s the verdict now that the collection is done and published?

 

TH: Well, I was really amazed how varied the influence was. For some, it provided a sort of mythic ancient framework that they morphed into their own queer world view (Pansy Bradshaw, Nora Nugent, Charlie Vázquez). For those folks, it seems they were reading between the lines at a young age that Catholicism was in essence a highly erotic queer pagan religion that was just subtle about its queerness, but blatantly erotic. Some were even motivated to remain in the church and change it from within (Jane Grovijahn’s amazing essay on the body of Christ). Many were somewhat embittered or felt betrayed or like a bad joke had been played on them, which often led to a humorous take on the absurdity of it all once they got wise to the game (Tom Spanbauer, Austin J. Austin). And for others it resulted in a deepening of their “Catholicness” that was queerer and more inclusive (Anthony Easton). Catholic does mean universal, so in some sense, any homophobia in the church is essentially heretical. What I saw in all the essays was a sense that there were some good things to keep—or perhaps a weird sort of nostalgia for a  beautiful corrupt artifice—from the experience (or culture) and some to throw away, but overall one was Catholic like one comes from a particular culture. You can take the queer out of Catholicism, but you can’t wholly take the Catholicism out of the queer.

 

CV: Are you aware of Queer and Catholic’s being used in any particular institutions of higher learning?

 

TH: I know they’re using it at Wesleyan and Western Montana State, last I heard, but not sure where else.

 

CV: I fondly remember reading your debut novel Through It Came Bright Colors back in 2004. Some of the short stories in A Perfect Scar evoke a similar mood and sentiment; a dark San Francisco-based, AIDS-battered subculture inhabited by magical and desperate characters dealing with very serious problems—things I doubt your “average” American could even imagine. Are you drawn to struggling people, as bases for character building in your stories?

 

TH: Oh yeah, I think people in crisis show their true colors—it brings out the best and worst in someone and their essential character. I like people with a sense of nobility, trying to do the right thing, aspiring to being a good solid person and then meeting with folly and all bets are off. This can be tragic, comic or tragicomic. My novel was fairly solemn about all this, but in my short stories in A Perfect Scar I really tried to be a little more comic than in the novel, as I think it makes for a more exciting and entertaining story, while still offering something profound and meaty. Half the stories in the collection are comedies, while the other half deals with fairly dark things, people ominously up against their edge.

 

CV: Were the stories in A Perfect Scar written around the same time (as the novel) moving forward, and were they written with the intent of being a collection?

 

TH: They were all written after the novel, and two of them actually began as novels, one of which I’ve since completed (Faun). The others were a way of writing about all sorts of things I was interested in, without writing a whole novel about each one. I’ve really come to like writing short stories and usually I send them off to anthologies, so I never had any intention of doing a collection. But now I think a short story collection is a great way of introducing oneself as a writer because you can show all these different aspects of your writing and your interests, which isn’t really possible via one novel. I constantly pick up short story collections now as a way to familiarize myself with a writer. If I like their stories, I’ll usually go on to like their novels.

 

CV: I was very humored by the story “Captain Jinx”. Your portrayal of an Irish immigrant woman living in the United States was cleverly layered. Does being a queer man give you an advantage in being better able to dispense with gender expectations—to open up and feel the character as if she were you?

 

TH: Yeah, I’d say so. I grew up in a family of four boys, all of them jocks, so it was all about gender and proving I was a “boy” as opposed to a “girl” in their conventional standards vis-à-vis gender. I’ve always felt the two-spirit idea made a lot of sense, so that’s how I experience my own gender. I am very much Constance from “Captain Jinx”, the Irish maid, not only because she feels like the kind of woman I would have been in 1890, but because my family is full of old Irish aunts and their stories about how their grandmothers and aunts came over from Ireland as maids. These ladies were mostly tough and scrappy and the men around them were generally buffoonish, drunken louts and miscreants, so the story was a way of digesting and recreating all of that the best I could. I really have to thank Stuart Timmons (author of Gay L.A.) for that story, as he was doing research for his book and kept feeding me these great stories about 19th century queer life in Los Angeles. Captain Jinx was a real woman who passed as a cowboy and I developed a crush on her.

 

CV: As an editor and prolific poet and author, what do you suspect the future will bring for queer writing—fiction and non-fiction—as reading seems to be declining and with the publishing industry in a semi-crisis?

 

TH: There will always be those hardcore queer book fans—that’s a small, but strong market. But with trends in publishing it doesn’t look great right now. I try to remain optimistic, but I think the large media companies controlling publishing is not good for literature at all, queer or otherwise. Small presses are where it’s at for art and lit and I think that’s how it’s going to continue in the future. And that will keep queer lit alive. I think there will continue to be mainstream gay stuff—just look at TV and film—but the edgier stuff is moving to other places. This might be a silver lining—I mean look what’s happening in film and music—internet niche marketing is huge and it’s growing.

 

CV: Do you have any favorite Latino writers and what do you admire about their work?

 

TH: My favorite poetry has always been Spanish-language poetry—and I like it for its imagination and connection to the earth—not just that term ‘magical realism,’ but the comfort with magic and spirit that is so lacking in American lit. Juan Rulfo and Octavio Paz and Sor Juana from Mexico; Neruda of course. I like Ana Castillo—So Far From God had a big influence on me and on my own voice. Garcia Marquez of course and Sandra Cisneros’ The House on Mango Street and Rudolfo Anaya’s Bless Me Ultima. More recently, from right here in L.A.: Guadalajara-born Salvador Plascencia’s People of Paper is an amazing book. And of course, I love the poetry of Emanuel Xavier and his vibrant queer poetic voice. Jaime Cortez put together a great anthology of queer Latino lit I recommend: Virgins, Guerrillas, and Locas. I’m hoping he does another.

 

 

You know, to get back to Queer & Catholic, I often feel that being Catholic, I am drawn toward Latino lit and it’s closer to me somehow than the predominantly Protestant American lit. I always notice a Catholic voice right away: Kerouac, Fitzgerald, Louise Erdrich, John Rechy. I just read Our Lady of the Assassins by Fernando Vallejo, an awesome book and movie. I’m heading to Argentina soon and I’m on a reading bender of Argentines: Aira my favorite so far and I like Borges’ poetry and the novels of Sabato.

 

CV: Why is it important for queer people to support queer writers and literature in general? Imagine that you’re trying to convince a queer non-reader why they should explore queer literature.

 

TH: Well I never ask people to support it just for political reasons. I just ask them to look at it and they always find something that they like that they didn’t know was there, since they’re inundated with the usual hetero marketing stream. My main argument to a non-reader is to point out what they’re missing. Gay mainstream culture is banal like the rest of mainstream culture and there are amazing books that have been written that will deepen one’s queerness and one’s understanding of what it means to be queer. Literature has always existed for the more sensitive, the more awake, the seeker. We need to let people know it’s there and to encourage them to look toward it for knowledge, beauty and a wider consciousness—queer wisdom. The books of Mark Thompson, Tom Spanbauer, David Wojnarowicz, Michel Tournier, Genet, Guy Davenport and dozens of others will expand your mind and that’s a beautiful thing that we can’t lose. The fact that literature is becoming a kind of “esoterica” is just another indication we are living in a dark age.

 

CV: What might we expect next from you, in terms of what might be published next?

 

TH: I’m doing another short story collection, probably called Eros & Dust, which will have more of these crazy comic tales I’ve been into of late. It should come out next spring. And I just finished my novel Faun, so I’m shopping that around with agents. And since I’m in Los Angeles, I’m doing screenplays of both Faun and Through It Came Bright Colors, as there is some interest. But it’s Los Angeles, so you never know what interest means. But it’s a good, fun exercise and I encourage all novelists to do screenplays of their books, as eventually someone will want to see one.

 

Trebor’s website: http://www.treborhealey.com/

 

You can view/purchase Trebor’s books here: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_ss_gw?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Trebor+Healey

 

For a list of my upcoming events and readings go to: http://www.firekingpress.com

 

Watch this short clip of me reading in NYC, courtesy of WepaTV:   http://blip.tv/file/2478867/

 

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Raul Ramos y Sanchez’s Latino Thriller Revolution

Cuban-American author Raul Ramos y Sanchez recently had his first thriller novel America Libre published and has been bouncing about the blogosphere over the last couple of weeks promoting it. Raul’s book is part of the Virtual Latino Book Tour—an ongoing traveling show (blog-to-blog), where blog readers and Latino authors can meet each other for the first time to discuss matters via the Comments section. We’ll be giving a free copy of America Libre away as well, so leave a comment for Raul in the Comments section (you have to scroll to the bottom of this blog entry and look for the tiny text).

 

 

I’ll be choosing a random commentator and that person will receive an autographed copy from the author. I sent Raul a couple of “thought provoking” questions relating to his book (which I’m currently reading) and I’m posting his responses below. Let’s get some discussion going here, people—I know how many of you read this! The crux here: Raul is forging a new genre. America Libre could possibly well be the first English-language Latino thriller.

 

 

 

(from the book’s back cover)

 

 

It started by the Rio Grande with the shooting of an innocent Latina. Soon rioting swept San Antonio. A lieutenant from the National Guard chose the Alamo as his command center–and his men gunned down twenty-three people. America would never be the same.

 

 

In L.A., Rosa Suarez yearns for the life she had with her husband, Manolo, and their three children. It was one without jobs or money, but it had hope. Now, as the country is gripped by violence, Rosa sees her dreams slipping away…and Manolo drifting toward a mysterious group with a plan of its own.

 

 

A loyal husband, loving father, and decorated war hero, Manolo is nearing the epicenter of a gathering storm. His people are under siege and his nation is at war with itself. Manolo Suarez–awakened to his heritage and calling–will become a legend, a hero, and the country’s only chance for change. If he can succeed there will finally be…

America Libre

  

 

And now some words with the author himself:

 

 

CV: America Libre poses the frightening possibility of a Latino-driven revolution sparked by a history of abuse and exploitation on both governmental and cultural levels. This strikes me as a new genre in Latino fiction—your book is very engaging, without coming across as cryptic or highbrow. Did you intentionally set out to write a Latino-flavored thriller with populist appeal?

 

 

RRYS: Yes, I deliberately set out to use the thriller genre as a vehicle for social commentary. Science fiction has long been used to make sociopolitical observations, most notably by writers like Ray Bradbury and Ursula LeGuin in print, alongside Rod Serling and Gene Roddenberry on television. Not to say that thrillers don’t have a political point of view. However, most contemporary thrillers are based on characters and world views heavily steeped in White Anglo-Saxon culture. So while David Baldacci might be more left of center than say, Tom Clancy, both write books where minority characters and their cultures are sideshow curiosities that add, pardon the pun, color to the stories. (I should note that Leon Uris, one of my idols, is an exception. In TOPAZ, EXODUS and THE HAJ, Uris tells panoramic stories with characters and settings from very different cultures.)

 

 

CV: I’m working on my second novel Contraband, which chronicles the abuse of fringe individuals and intellectuals during a time of political upheaval, in a very “Latino” American landscape as well. We’re seeing sweeping changes in the federal government, in terms of persons of color achieving Olympian positions of influence and power. Did you (from the beginning) meditate on changes as such when embarking on this book project, in terms of employing these changes as elements that pose threats to your antagonists?

 

 

RRYS: I began working on America Libre in 2004. At that time, the idea of a Latino uprising in the U.S. seemed farfetched to most people who heard about my manuscript. Then came the first nationwide May Day immigration reform protests in 2006. Suddenly, the skeptics weren’t quite so sure. Since then, the rhetoric against Hispanics has grown more vicious. We also saw a 40% increase in hate crimes against Latinos during the same time. Some people now say my novel is frighteningly prophetic. However, I never envisioned the U.S. would elect an African-American president. As we’ve seen though, the election of Barack Obama, while a great step forward in social progress, has also super-heated the racist fringe. Unfortunately, we are far from a post-racial society.

 

 To buy this book go here: http://www.hachettebookgroup.com/books_9780446507752_WhereToBuy.htm#

 

[Editor’s note:] I know a lot of you out there have two cents to add to this so let’s see some comments. You may even win a free copy of America Libre, so let’s go!

 

 

I’d like to thank Jo Ann Hernandez for organizing this and Raul for taking time to answer my questions, as all of us are very busy people. Read an interview about Jo Ann Hernandez here: 
http://thedarkphantom.wordpress.com/2009/02/01/interview-with-jo-ann-hernandez-author-of-the-throaway-piece/

 

 

 

Next time on Queer Latino Musings on Literature: a revealing chat with writer, poet, and editor Trebor Healey on his favorite Latino authors, editing the breakthrough book Queer and Catholic, and more!

 

Watch this short clip of me reading in NYC, courtesy of WepaTV:  

http://blip.tv/file/2478867/

 

To receive my bimonthly posts straight to your email, register here: http://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverify?uri=CharlieVazquez

Queer Ricans!

 

Queer Ricans..à la Larry La Fountain

 

 

Puerto Rican writer and scholar Lawrence La Fountain-Stokes’s latest tome Queer Ricans (University of Minnesota, 2009) takes a playful and critical look at the creative works of queer diasporic Puerto Ricans in the United States—New York to San Francisco, the 1960s to the 1990s, male and female, island-born and mainlander. This complex and fascinating study discusses homophobia, AIDS, feminism, sexism, racism, and a variety of other agents of marginalization, which although are scornful by nature, inspired the creation of that unique dimension from which queer Puerto Rican artists operate. Entrenched and seething island homophobia inspired migrations of queer Puerto Ricans to the mainland—and many were artists. And although the majority might have settled in New York—others found themselves in other locales such as Philadelphia, Chicago, and San Francisco.

 

 

Beginning with a dissection of the writings of Manuel Ramos Otero (who succumbed to AIDS in 1990), La Fountain weaves a rich tapestry of art criticism that ultimately leads to a kind of “Oz”, a Nuyorican Oz, as interpreted by Boricua lesbian performance artist Elizabeth Marrero. The fanning out of Puerto Ricans on the mainland, as they both assimilated into and resisted white mainstream America, begat yet another wave of artistic output shaped by birthplace, gender, race, and dominant language (Spanish vs. English). From Manuel Ramos Otero’s fiction to Erika López’s punk-informed subversive imagery and writing, the queer Puerto Rican canon of literature and art in America is more diverse than I ever imagined. Applause for Larry’s La Fountain’s groundbreaking cultural breakthrough!

 

 

I had a few questions for him…

 

 

CV: So before we get serious—I had no idea that Miguel Algarín and Miguel Piñero were bisexual. Was this an openly discussed thing in Manhattan underground Latino culture, and how did their Lower East Side base abstract them from other Puerto Rican artists based in El Barrio or the Bronx?

 

 

LLFS: Wow, this is a complicated question—much more serious than you suggest! Let me clarify a couple of things. I can tell you for a fact that people currently discuss Miguel Piñero’s bisexuality (or his attraction to and relationships or encounters with men and women); León Ichaso portrays this in his biopic Piñero (2001), for example. I cannot tell you that Piñero himself used the word “bisexual” or considered himself to be one. Regardless of this, the word is useful to describe his life and his sexual activities.

 

 

In the case of Miguel Algarín (who is still alive), I can tell you that Algarín’s literature has been suggesting this since the 1970s, in classic works such as Mongo Affair (where he talks about loving, i.e., feeling intense feelings towards an elderly black man in Puerto Rico) and of course in his extraordinary Love Is Hard Work: Memorias de Loisaida (1997), where he engages his experiences as an HIV-positive man who has sex with men and women. But just as the case with Piñero, I don’t know that Algarín personally uses the label “bisexual” to describe himself; I have never asked him and quite frankly would feel a little bit shy about bringing up the topic with him.

 

 

My suspicion (and understanding) about this matter is that it was a tacit subject, un secreto a voces or open secret, in other words, something that people know but don’t discuss a lot, unless you prompt them (or in my case, tell them what my book is about!). Then people start to tell you all sorts of things.

 

 

CV: As a punk culture aficionado (and as a Latino) I was very moved by San Francisco artist Erika López’s work, especially “A Postcard from the Welfare Line” which is loaded with tons of political symbolism. How did you learn about her and what is she doing now?

 

 

LLFS: Erika Lopez is an absolutely amazing artist! I first learned about her in 1997 when her first novel Flaming Iguanas and her book of comics Lap Dancing for Mommy came out. My friend Celinés Pimentel bought a copy at St. Mark’s Bookstore in New York City and both of us got hooked. Erika quickly came out with the sequel to her novel, They Call Me Mad Dog! in 1998. We just could not believe a queer Boricua was publishing this stuff and that it was illustrated to boot! I’ve been a fan of Erika’s ever since. You’re absolutely right that there is a fascinating political slant to her work. I think people sometimes don’t notice that right away because of her humor and allegiance to pop culture and to cartoons. For me, she’s as invested in social change and social justice as anyone else, particularly when compared to dour, serious artists. As to what Erika’s up to nowadays, I can tell you she’s working on making a film and she also writes a cartoon blog that she calls a clog! You can check her out at

 

 

http://clog.erikalopez.com/ and at http://www.erikalopez.com/

 

 

CV: Queer Ricans covers a diverse range of work and personalities—from the prolific filmmaker Frances Negrón-Muntaner to modern dancer Arthur Avilés, who is based at the Bronx Academy of Arts and Dance (BAAD). You apparently know many of the subjects of whom you write. Was this book a result of your own fascination as a queer Puerto Rican scholar and writer, and did you feel a conscious need to unify in one book the stories and works of these agents of Puerto Rican queer art history?

 

 

LLFS: At the very, very, very beginning, I thought I was going to write an exhaustive encyclopedia on homosexual literature and culture from all of Latin America and the Caribbean! As you can imagine, the prospect was so overwhelming that I was basically paralyzed. My dissertation advisor, the feminist scholar Jean Franco, suggested I focus on Puerto Rico and Cuba. Even that seemed like too much for me. I narrowed it down to Puerto Rico, and settled on the issue of queer migration. I also had to give up my initial impulse to write about every single LGBT Puerto Rican artist and writer—it was just too much. I started writing Queer Ricans in 1995 and did not really get finished until 2007 (or 2009, if you count the months I spent earlier this year indexing the book).

 

 

It really started out as an exploration of queer Puerto Rican literature, and morphed as it went along, in part because of the recurrent themes that kept coming up, especially migration, but also because I was living in New York City, and I was immersed in an environment that was exploding with queer Puerto Rican artists and writers and filmmakers and activists as well as with queer Puerto Rican scholars who were presenting very pioneering, groundbreaking research on queer Puerto Rican, U.S. Latina/o, and Latin American culture. The mid 1990s were just an incredible moment in terms of Latina/o queer culture in the U.S., and New York City just seemed to be the epicenter of it all. It all clicked together when I got a fellowship from the Social Science Research Council and got to spend several weeks during the summer of 1997 in North Carolina discussing issues of international migration.

 

 

But to answer your question: some of the people I knew, or met along the way, like Luis Rafael Sánchez, Luz María Umpierre, Frances Negrón-Muntaner, Rose Troche, Erika López, Elizabeth Marrero, and Arthur Avilés; some were already dead, like Manuel Ramos Otero (but were so present in my mind and in my readings and in people’s stories that it’s as if they were still alive). There are a lot of additional artists that I met (or would like to meet) that I did not have a chance to write about in this book, such as Rane Arroyo and yourself, and that I look forward to writing about more extensively in the future.

 

 

Applause. To purchase this book go here (I’m still pissed at Amazon): http://www.powells.com/biblio?isbn=9780816640928 or directly from the publisher here: http://www.upress.umn.edu/Books/L/la%20fountain-stokes_queer.html

 

 

 

I’d like to thank Larry for taking time out of his busy schedule to answer these questions and want you all to know that on Tuesday, August 18^th, Queer Latino Musings on Literature will be hosting Cuban-American author Raul Ramos y Sanchez for the third Virtual Latino Book Tour. Raul’s new book America Libre was published by Grand Central Publishing and we’ll discuss his forging of a new popular genre: the Latino thriller.

 

 

America Libre fuses speculative politics, rioting, and cultural upheaval and takes a scary look at the oppression of Latinos, set in a near-future America, where a dangerous and new right-wing government combats angry Latinos, who have become a second-class citizenry by law. We will also be giving a free copy away! All you need to do is comment on the interview—the winner will be chosen randomly by me and mailed a copy by Raul. If you’d like him to sign it, please request this and be clear as to whom you want it signed to.

 

 

As for me, I’ve been doing different readings around town and hammering away at my new short story collection Island Stories, which should be ready to submit to publishers by year’s end. I read a new story in Astoria on August 13^th, for a benefit for Green City Council candidate Lynne Serpe (thanks Brandon Lacy Campos!). The new story is called “The Fruit Vendor” and pits the political and cultural frustrations of an islander and a stateside Puerto Rican, albeit with a very erotic subtext. Coming soon! (Did I just say that?)

 

Watch this short clip of me reading in NYC, courtesy of WepaTV:  

http://blip.tv/file/2478867/

 

To receive my bimonthly posts straight to your email, register here: http://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverify?uri=CharlieVazquez

Interview with a Banshee…

The Banshees’  Steven Severin in New York City…

 

This post was supposed to be dedicated to my interview with Los Angeles-based writer Trebor Healey, but Ambiente editor Herb Sosa liked it so much that we’re developing it as a cover feature for September. Hence, no musings on literature this time around, but I’m reading Robert Sullivan’s creep-fest Rats and loving every word–squeak squeak!

 

 

I have an even better surprise, though…

 

 

I’m dedicating this installment of Queer Musings to sharing with you (with permission) an interview conducted for The Stool Pigeon between writer Sam Lewis and musician Steven Severin, one of my musical and sub-cultural heroes and cofounder of Siouxsie and the Banshees. The prolific Mister Severin also collaborated with The Cure’s Robert Smith on the side-project The Glove, produced music for artists such as Lydia Lunch and Altered Images, and has been composing soundtrack music for both film and television for many years (see: http://www.stevenseverin.com).

 

 

Last year, Steven took his “Music for Silents” series on the road—where he performs live soundtracks to surrealist and avant-garde silent pictures, both old and new.

 

 

And, he’s bringing “Music for Silents” to New York…

 

 

Steven will perform at Le Poisson Rouge NYC on Saturday, October 10^th, with a performance for The Seashell and the Clergyman, a 1928 French silent flicker considered to be the first surrealist movie ever made (he’ll also perform to newer works by up-and-coming avant-garde filmmakers). And should this show sell out—yes, please!—Le Poisson Rouge will host him the following night for The Trials of Dr. Caligari and other works. I have included venue and ticket info at the end of the interview, which will give you more insight into the history and perspective of one of my favorite artists ever.

 

 

As published in The Stool Pigeon earlier this year…

 

 

Sam Lewis: What drew you towards producing soundtracks for visual pieces in the first place? Is there something about them that you felt couldn’t be expressed in non-visual work?

 

 

Steven Severin: I’ve wanted to write music for film for almost as long as I’ve wanted to write music. I remember seeing the Pink Floyd album sleeve for the film “MORE” when I was 13 and thinking, “that’s what I want to do”. Unfortunately, no one in my band was as rabid a film buff as myself, and even though the Banshees’ music was often described as cinematic, what few opportunities came our way were largely to do with “the cult of Siouxsie” rather than the atmospheric quality of our music. Most obvious would be our involvement with Tim Burton and his Catwoman/Siouxsie movie “Batman Returns”.

 

 

SL: And how does the process of composing a soundtrack differ to composing a piece of music independent of visuals?

 

 

SS: I find it incredibly liberating because you can play with what I call “angles of perception”. Every scene requires something slightly different in that the music sits in the background and then pulls into focus to the foreground or can come from an oblique angle to dramatize a scene. After years of trying to search for new patterns in rock music, I love the fact that with most film work, my former fulcrum (i.e. the voice) is missing! I think that’s what I mean by liberating. Every cue has to have a new axis or none at all.

 

 

SL: Are there any particular musicians you take as inspiration or an influence for your work with cinema?

 

 

SS: Many. The earliest influences would be Bernard Hermann (Hitchcock), Nino Rota (Fellini), and Ennio Morricone (the Westerns). I love the work that Popul Vuh did on the Herzog movies and currently I’m a big fan of Howard Shore’s work with Cronenberg and Clint Mansell’s with Aronofsky. Oh and of course Alan Splet and David Lynch, naturally.

 

 

SL: How did you come across The Seashell and the Clergyman?

 

 

SS: I’d known about it for quite some time but hadn’t seen it until I started searching on the net for public domain films.

 

 

SL: What particularly drew you towards it?

 

 

SS: Several things. It’s surreal, uncanny, disturbing and funny! It must have been very subversive in its time, for poking fun at the clergy and the military as it does. It’s only 35 minutes long, so it’s more like an extended music video than a feature, especially with its lack of narrative logic—that appealed to me.

 

 

SL: As a musician, do you feel there’s something about surrealist cinema that particularly suits soundtracking? Or that you find especially appealing?

 

 

SS: See above…

 

 

SL: Having recently seen Lev Kuleshov’s 1928 film “Mr. West”, I was startled at how much the recent, almost ambient, soundtrack added to my appreciation of the film, giving it a modern reference point that made the time gap between its production and my viewing it less alienating. How do you approach producing a piece of music for a silent film as opposed to a modern, audio one? Do you attempt to give it a sound contemporary to the period it was produced in? Or something totally modern instead?

 

 

SS: I have no interest whatsoever in attempting to do a “period piece”, I’ll leave that to the South Bank squares. I think attempting to shrink that gap you mention is extremely important. Film language has evolved so much in the last century that one needs to make that adjustment to make it resonate once more.

 

 

SL: How did your performance in Edinburgh come to be arranged?

 

 

SS: The ubiquitous Myspace! I was approached almost simultaneously by promoters in Edinburgh and Poland and I was tired of waiting for the BFI to commission me!

 

 

SL: Are you planning to do more live film performances?

 

 

SS: I really hope so. These three shows are my “toe in the water”. If it works, I’ll start planning for more “Seashell” shows later this year. Beyond that, I’d love to do many, many more: Caligari, Haxan, and the Phantom Carriage for example, but next I think I’d do a Japanese rarity, “A Page of Madness”. Rather more ambitiously, I’d love to build toward a “music for silents” label that released the films with new scores and get some other musicians involved.

 

 

SL: Is there any relationship between your work on soundtracks and your re-mastering of the Banshees back-catalogue? Do you find your work with soundtracks bleeds into your approach towards the Banshees records?

 

 

SS: Only in that I am very aware of preserving the art. Restoration and representing is of cultural importance. I don’t think that’s too grand a statement, as people are still referencing the Banshees thirty years on. My father was librarian, maybe that’s where I get it from.

 

Steven will bring The Seashell and the Clergyman (and hopefully The Trials of Doctor Caligari) to New York on Saturday, October 10th, at Le Poisson Rouge, Greenwich Village.

 

 

This rare event was just confirmed and tickets could go quickly!

 

 

$20.00 (please purchase in advance, as seating is limited.)

 

 

Doors, 7PM, show, 8PM

 

 

Info and ticket purchasing here: http://lepoissonrouge.inticketing.com/events/43497

 

Preview clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0tknpfywKg&videos=W19ncJ_44iQ&playnext_from=TL&playnext=1

 

 

Steven Severin’s official website: http://www.stevenseverin.com/

 

 

Facebook event: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#/event.php?eid=113223780895&ref=ts