Literary Lyricist

From Pulitzer Prize-winning poetry to rock ‘n’ roll, Paul Muldoon riffs and muses on memories, journeys and observations.

By: Susan Van Dongen
   If you have the pleasure to visit with poet Paul Muldoon in his office at 185 Nassau St. on the Princeton University campus, you’ll find yourself sinking into a warm bath of books. Three walls are lined from floor to ceiling with volumes and volumes in all kinds of subject matter — a bibliophile’s paradise.
   You can’t help but notice the books in one section of shelves, dedicated to literature. On the spines are the names of the great poets and writers in English and Irish literature such as Shakespeare, John Donne and William Butler Yeats. Over on the other side of the room, though, are the names of great writers of another sort. From the genius generation of songwriters, Mr. Muldoon has collected books on Cole Porter, Irving Berlin and Ira Gershwin, as well as a thick tome of historic bluesmen and their songs.
   But there are other names in his collection as well — Bob Dylan, Neil Young and Pete Townshend jump out at you. He’s fond of Townshend and The Who in particular. In fact, the first set of lyrics in his new book, General Admission (The Gallery Press, Ireland), is "an homage to the ‘oo," Mr. Muldoon says.
   Titled "Brighton Rock," the piece remembers the days in the mid ’60s of the Mods and Rockers, when the stylish rival gangs would duke it out in the English resort town of Brighton. Townshend and The Who (Mods, by the way), were in the midst of this youth culture phenomenon.
   And so, Mr. Muldoon writes "When Townshend and Daltry/Moonie and the Ox/Assaulted the psaltery/The choirschool of hard knocks."
   Who knew, when visiting Mr. Muldoon to talk of literature, the conversation would drift to The Who, the Rolling Stones, even Kanye West. But, like many people from his generation, he simply loves rock ‘n’ roll, grew up on it in fact.
   "We listened to the radio all the time, especially pirate radio, Radio Caroline," Mr. Muldoon says. "A lot of music was played on ships that were anchored off the coast of the U.K. in international waters. They were broadcasting rock ‘n’ roll and other forms of pop music. There was a sense that there was something revolutionary about it, it was something that changed how we looked at the world.
   "Some might say rock is not in the same vein as grand opera, and I’d say baloney," he continues. "I brought my son to the Met and the City Opera, but I also brought him to see the Rolling Stones. Really, I don’t see any distinction between high and low art. I think it’s a mistake to say ‘The Barber of Seville’ is better than what the Stones get up to."
   The conversation turned to rock when the poet reflected on "Sillyhow Stride," an elegy to late gonzo composer-singer-songwriter Warren Zevon, a personal friend and songwriting colleague of Mr. Muldoon’s. The tribute caps a new collection of the poet’s works, Horse Latitudes (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, $22) recently released, almost simultaneously with The End of the Poem: Oxford Lectures (FSG, $30), a collection of lectures on poetry delivered by Mr. Muldoon at Oxford University from 1999 to 2004. (General Admission has not been released in the U.S. at this time.)
   This year has been a rollicking ride for the Irish-born poet, who is the Howard G.B. Clark ’21 Professor in the Humanities as well as director, Princeton Atelier; chairman, Fund for Irish Studies; and chairman, University Center for the Creative and Performing Arts.
   In 2003, he received the Pulitzer Prize in poetry, one of many career accolades, for his volume Moy Sand and Gravel (FSG). Aside from his academic and literary duties and diversions, Mr. Muldoon is a lyricist and guitarist for Rackett ("a three-car garage band," he says) along with Nigel Smith, Stephen Allen, Lee Matthew and Bob Lewis, all of whom are successful professionals. Age-wise, all the gentlemen are, as Gail Sheehy might say, "seasoned."
   The band has had a string of concerts, riding on the new CD Standing Room Only (Scamafone Records) released in early October. The flurry of Rackett activity will culminate Nov. 21 at Joe’s Pub at the Public Theater in New York. Mr. Muldoon, who admits the other guys in the band are top-notch musicians ("they basically suffer me," he says), hopes folks from Princeton and the region come to the show.
   Enjoying rock, collecting instruments and playing music is a passion, a way to have fun, and Mr. Muldoon isn’t concerned with stuffy types who might look down on the pastime.
   "This is one of my forms of relaxation," he says. "I don’t see how anyone would have a problem with it, any more than someone objecting to playing golf, which is how other guys my age relax. I’m not too worried about what people think. Why would you have an attitude? You might see a serious academic coming out of an action movie and there’s no need to have a problem with that either. These are all components of the society we live in, where we are and who we are."
   Songwriting has become another of the poet’s passions. His first successful venture into the style was working with Mr. Zevon on "My Ride’s Here," which was to become the title song of Mr. Zevon’s 2002 album. The two men became friends, although much of the correspondence was via massive and probably very literary e-mails. They were introduced when the poet sent a fan letter to Mr. Zevon, who responded with a phone call saying he was a fan of Mr. Muldoon’s, and would relish writing together.
   "It was a team effort and a very interesting process," Mr. Muldoon says, adding that, thanks to technology, it was gratifying to hear his words spun into music so quickly. "I’ve always been interested in songs and I have tried to write a song a couple times along the way but it’s a slightly different business from writing poems."
   He remarks that a poem can go on and on — and some of Mr. Muldoon’s works do just that. But a song has a time limit, and in many cases a wonderful story can be told in the space of three or four minutes.
   "What I did, when I decided to try my hand at songwriting, was to study this collection of blues lyrics as well as Porter, Gershwin and Berlin," Mr. Muldoon says. "It was to those guys I went, particularly Ira Gershwin. His works are so extraordinary — ‘Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off,’ ‘They Can’t Take That Away from Me,’ ‘I Got Rhythm.’ In some intellectual (circles) it’s felt that this is not really an art form of the first order, but it’s so misguided. I don’t think Shakespeare would have felt he was up to par to these guys."
   Mr. Muldoon certainly didn’t limit himself to a brief span of time with "Sillyhow Stride," one of the longest poems in the new collection.
   The elegy commemorates Mr. Zevon, who died in 2003 of mesothelioma, and also Mr. Muldoon’s younger sister Maureen, who was stricken with metastasized uterine cancer — like her mother decades before.
   "Sillyhow Stride" riffs and muses on memories, journeys, observations on the music business, lots of references to guitars and musical equipment, post- 9/11 politics and bits of Mr. Zevon’s biography. The detail of the songwriter’s chance meeting with Igor Stravinsky on the streets of Los Angeles sends a reader to Warren Zevon’s Web site (www.warrenzevon.com) for further study.
   Mr. Muldoon writes of the rock musician’s self-abuse, the cycles of his addictions and recoveries, all the while mixing in allusions to Mr. Zevon’s songs and lyrics — "French Inhaler," "Hula Hula Boys," "Excitable Boy" and "Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner" are all in there. So is a line about a "werewolf with the Japanese menu in his hand," an homage to "Werewolves of London."
   There are also numerous phrases from the poetry of John Donne, perhaps because Donne’s own exhilarated lines might parallel Mr. Zevon’s life lived on the edge — and curiosity about death.
   "Zevon also loved John Donne," Mr. Muldoon says.
   He is not the only artist who appreciated Mr. Zevon’s eclecticism. In 2004 a number of musicians put together Enjoy Every Sandwich (Artemis), a tribute album to the songwriter. The title comes from an interview Mr. Zevon did with David Letterman, who asked the terminally ill musician if his mortality had clarified any of life’s issues. Mr. Zevon replied, "Just how much you’re supposed to enjoy every sandwich." On the album, the Zevon/Muldoon song "My Ride’s Here" is covered by another great storyteller — Bruce Springsteen.
   As for the band of middle-aged guys in the basement, Mr. Muldoon and Rackett seem to share this love for rock with a lot of men their age. Now that they have the financial resources, they can collect those vintage Stratocasters and Vox amps. But it’s more about reliving the joy of the music than investing in equipment (although the toys are fun). For Mr. Muldoon, rock ‘n’ roll was a saving grace, something that sparked the imagination.
   "Music and political and social movements were related," Mr. Muldoon says. "For example in Northern Ireland, in our struggle for civil rights, we borrowed the anthem of the civil rights movement in this country, ‘We Shall Overcome.’ And I was very conscious, even as a kid, of the so-called ‘Summer of Love.’ In Ireland we were listening to ‘If You’re Going to San Francisco’ and very nearly we were on the next boat there. So in that sense, (rock) made the world smaller in some profound way."
Horse Latitudes and The End of the Poem: Oxford Lectures by Paul Muldoon
are available at bookstores. Rackett will perform at Joe’s Pub at the Public Theater,
425 Lafayette St., New York, N.Y., Nov. 21, 7 p.m. Tickets cost $15. Limited seating.
For information, call Telecharge at (212) 239-6200. On the Web: www.joespub.org.
Paul Muldoon on the Web: www.paulmuldoon.net.
Rackett on the Web: www.rackett.org