In deze aflevering van Vertaallab een voorpublicatie uit Christian Hawkey’s nieuwe project. Vertaallab is de serie op Ooteoote die dichters en schrijvers uit andere taalgebieden aan de lezer voorstelt. Elke aflevering minstens één nieuw gedicht. Dat u mag vertalen, als u wilt. Graag zelfs, wat ons betreft. Post uw Nederlandse vertaling van (een selectie van) onderstaande gedichten als reactie op dit bericht. Veel lees- en vertaalplezier.

 

 

from WOW: AN UNTITLED LIBRETTO INSPIRED BY MILLI VANILLI

Christian Hawkey

 

O my body, make of me always one who questions!

—Fanon [quote altered to be gender neutral]

 

 

PREFORMANCE: “I AM THE EDISON PHONOGRAPH,” 1906 ADVERTISING RECORD FOR THE EDISON PHONOGRAPH

I am the Edison phonograph, created by the great wizard of the New World to delight those who would have melody or be amused. I can sing you tender songs of love. I can give you merry tales and joyous laughter. I can transport you to the realms of music. I can cause you to join in the rhythmic dance. I can lull the babe to sweet repose, or waken in the aged heart soft memories of youthful days. No matter what may be your mood, I am always ready to entertain you. When your day’s work is done, I can bring the theater or the opera to your home. I can give you grand opera, comic opera or vaudeville. I can give you sacred or popular music, dance, orchestra or instrumental music. I can render solos, duets, trios, quartets. I can aid in entertaining your guests. When your wife is worried after the cares of the day, and the children are boisterous, I can rest the one and quiet the other. I never get tired and you will never tire of me, for I always have something new to offer. I give pleasure to all, young and old. I will go wherever you want me, in the parlor, in the sickroom, on the porch, in the camp or to your summer home. If you sing or talk to me, I will retain your songs or words, and repeat them to you at your pleasure. I can enable you to always hear the voices of your loved ones, even though they are far away. I talk in every language. I can help you to learn other languages. I am made with the highest degree of mechanical skill. My voice is the clearest, smoothest and most natural of any talking machine. The name of my famous master is on my body, and tells you that I am a genuine Edison phonograph. The more you become acquainted with me, the better you will like me. Ask the dealer.

 

 

 

 

DEFORMANCE: “I AM THE EDISON PHONOGRAPH,” 1906 ADVERTISING RECORD FOR THE EDISON PHONOGRAPH

I am the Edison phonograph, created by the great wizard of the New World to delight those who would have melody or be amused. I can sing you tender songs of love. I can give you merry tales and joyous laughter. I can transport you to the realms of music. I can cause you to join in the rhythmic dance. I can lull the babe to sweet repose, or waken in the aged heart soft memories of youthful days. No matter what may be your mood, I am always ready to entertain you. When your day’s work is done, I can bring the theater or the opera to your home. I can give you grand opera, comic opera or vaudeville. I can give you sacred or popular music, dance, orchestra or instrumental music. I can render solos, duets, trios, quartets. I can aid in entertaining your guests. When your wife is worried after the cares of the day, and the children are boisterous, I can rest the one and quiet the other. I never get tired and you will never tire of me, for I always have something new to offer. I give pleasure to all, young and old. I will go wherever you want me, in the parlor, in the sickroom, on the porch, in the camp or to your summer home. If you sing or talk to me, I will retain your songs or words, and repeat them to you at your pleasure. I can enable you to always hear the voices of your loved ones, even though they are far away. I talk in every language. I can help you to learn other languages. I am made with the highest degree of mechanical skill. My voice is the clearest, smoothest and most natural of any talking machine. The name of my famous master is on my body, and tells you that I am a genuine Edison phonograph

 

 

 

 

CIRCUMFORMANCE: “THE LAUGHING SONG” BY GEORGE WASHINGTON JOHNSON, 1847-1914, WITH FRANZ FANON, AVIANCE, MILLI VANILLI, TIM BROOKS, PAUL GILROY, ALLEN GINSBERG, FRIEDRICH KITTLER, A DEER, CHRISTIAN HAWKEY, PATRICIA HILL COLLINS, AN ATM MACHINE

once there was tinfoil or paper coated in lampblack. once there were rotating cylinders covered with silver foil. once there were vibrations. once there were grooves. once there was a needle, a stylus, a hog’s hair bristle. once there were machines shaped like ears. once there were ears that created machines shaped like ears, like cochleae, drums. ears that were infected. ears that were broken. ears that were boxed. ears that could barely hear, ears that heard nothing. once there were phonographs and gramophones. once there was something to sell. once the machines failed to sell the question became what could be sold on the machines to make the machines sell. once i slept outside, in the backyard, and woke to the sound of something breathing. i didn’t open my eyes. i might have opened my eyes. if my eyes were open it was too dark to see. but i heard breathing, nostrils. an animal standing over me, a deer. i must have been downwind. my body must have been downwind. i heard its nostrils, their softness, the rush of air, quick exhalations, huffs. once there were apparatuses. once there were machines. once their were 1,250 coin-in-slot machines operating in america. nickle-in-slot machines. they were set up at fairs and carnivals. they were set up on street corners. they were the first jukeboxes. once the machines failed to sell the question was what could be sold on the machines to make the machines sell. once i slept beside an atm. i read by its submarine light. the vibration, the groove, the intensity of the inscription, the phrase. submarine light. that’s a phrase from ginsberg. the sound quality was poor. certain things didn’t record well. i heard its nostrils, their softness, the rush of hair, quickly exhalations, huffs. victor emerson was the first to pitch the idea of making and marketing musical recordings. he was a telegraph operator. this may or may not have anything to do with milli vanilli. ears that could barely hear, ears that heard nothing. i was alone with a machine in the machinery of night. the machinery of night. that’s a phrase from ginsberg. once there was tinfoil or paper coated in lampblack. once there were vibrating diaphragms. one of the performers emerson hired was george washington johnson, a street singer. he was one of the first black recording artists in history. he was one of the first recording artists in history. they were set up at fairs and carnivals. they were set up on street corners. the first song johnson recorded was not one johnson chose. it was a request by emerson called “the whistling coon.” this was a racist minstrel-show song written a few years earlier by a white vaudevillian. johnson, a former slave, agreed to sing it. he got 20 cents a recording. he needed the money. once there were machines. once the voices were separated from source. once the voices were separated from bodies. once the machines could playback the recordings. a gap created by the separation, a space, a possible space. who writes the songs. who produces the recordings. who owns the mode of representation. who sees that gap. who enters it. o my body, make of me always one who questions! since duplication technology didn’t exist each recording had to be done individually. he got 20 cents a recording. johnson sang into an semi-circular array of six battery-powered machines in order to produce six recordings for each performance. again and again, the machines reset, new blank cylinders each time. one glitch or dropped note and all six of the turning cylinders would have to be thrown out. it had to be, each time, perfect. my body must have been downwind. they were set up on street corners. i read by its submarine light. it became a hit song. that’s a phrase by ginsberg. trademark. this may or may not have anything to do with milli vanilli. they needed the money. who sees that gap. who fills it. one hundred years later they walked into farian’s studio and played their music. farian had another idea, a different request, suggesting that they first perform the voices of others, other african-american singers, r&b studio musicians and singers living in germany, working. taking a paycheck from farian. emerson was white and took a paycheck from edison. edison was white and worked for himself. farian was a white producer who hired performers to work for him. kayne west is black and works for himself. i’m white and middle class and i work for god, i.e. james brown. a gap created by the separation, a possibility. once there were machines shaped like ears. din da da. din da da. doom doom doom. o my body, make of me always one who questions! the vibration, the groove, the intensity of the inscription, the phrase. to build common forms of identity. i heard its nostrils, their softness, the rush of hair, quick exhalations, huffs. the sound quality was poor. to build common forms of struggle. who sees that gap. who enters it. it had to be, each time, perfect. once there were ears that created machines shaped like ears, like cochleae, drums. varying configurations. varying degrees of intensity. a matrix of domination. doom doom doom. once i slept beside an atm. i was alone with the machine in the machinery of night. once there was a needle, a stylus, a hog’s hair bristle. my body must have been upwind. this may or may not have anything to do with milli vanilli. that’s a phrase from ginsberg. it became a hit song. once there were apparatuses. trademark. déjà-vu. this is what it’s like to lip sync. difference, forced into equivalence. my lips moved as i wrote that sentence. the vibration, the groove, the intensity of the inscription, the phrase. i am white and middle class and i work for god, i.e. aviance. din da da. din da da. o my body! who sees that gap. unlike milli vanilli george w. johnson went on to record his own tune, “the laughing song.” it became a hit. 25,000 wax cylinders were sold, each recorded individually. ears that could barely hear, ears that heard nothing. the chorus of the song—long stretches of laughter—anticipates its mechanized reproduction. again and again, the machines reset, a new blank cylinder. go. this time the song was written and copyrighted by johnson. it mirrors the genre of minstrel songs but now there is a sense of tension, of subversion, since the repeated laughter suggests psychic hysteria and trauma as much as hilarity. go. 25,000 wax cylinders were sold, each recorded individually. johnson was the first pop star. this may or may not have anything to do with milli vanilli. who writes the songs. who produces the recordings. who owns the mode of representation. déjà-vu. that’s a phrase from ginsberg. the sound quality was poor. laughing the same way each time: machinic breath, vocal cords, skipping vocal cords. ha ha ha ha ha. a vocal inscription, a non-semantic sound, the trace of what can’t be said. go. once they figured out how make duplicates from a master johnson’s immediate bodily performance was no longer needed. there were no royalties. he lost his contracts, went broke, became a doorman. a parallel system of exploitation. déjà-vu. there’s just this sense that something larger is wrong here. to find a common resistance, common structures that enable agency, without suppressing differences. disco, for example. my hips moved as i wrote that sentence. the vibration, the groove, the intensity of the inscription, the phrase. din da da. din da da. who sees that separation. who rushes in to use it, stabilize it, close it. doom doom doom. who keeps it open, widens it. again and again, the machines reset. get up offa that thing. o my body, make of me always one who questions! go.

 

 

 

 

PREFORMANCE: HOW TO SING, LILLI LEHMAN, 1902, TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY RICHARD ALDRICH

 

CONTENTS

My Purpose 1

My Title to write on the Art of Song 5

Preliminary Practice 11

Of the Breath 19

Of the Breath and Whirling Currents 27

The Singer’s Physiological Studies 35

Equalizing the Voice; Breath; Form 45

The Attack 69

Nasal. Nasal Singing 73

Singing toward the Nose. Head Voice 78

The Head Voice 86

Sensation and Position of the Tongue 99

The Sensations of the Palate 102

The Sensation of the Resonance of the Head Cavities 108

Singing Covered 123

On Vocal Registers 133

Development and Equalization 142

White Voices 154

Theodor Wachtel 158

The Highest Head Tones 162

Extension of the Compass and Equalization of Registers 169

The Tremolo 170

The Cure 176

The Tongue 181

Preparation for Singing 189

The Position of the Mouth (Contraction of the Muscles of Speech) 192

Connection of Vowels 196

The Vowel Sound AH 214

Italian and German 219

Auxiliary Vowels 226

Resonant Consonants 229

Practical Exercises 232

The Great Scale 239

Velocity 245

Trill 251

How to hold One’s Self when Practising 256

Concerning Expression 263

Before the Public 265

Interpretation 270

In Conclusion 279

Note.—A Good Remedy for Catarrh and Hoarseness 281

 

 

 

 

 

CHORUS: YOUTUBE COMMENTARY FROM “GIRL YOU KNOW IT’S TRUE” VIDEO, TEXT FOR MULTIPLE VOICES, A VOICE FOR EACH VOICE, W/ MULTIPLE VOICES/TEXTS OVERLAPPING

I loved this video as a little kid. StIll like the song. | LOL, even the dialog look lip-synched! | The voice sounds like a non-German black dude. | I love MIlli VanIlli. (Which one is MIlli again? 🙂 | the best damn song not sung by the artist. | this song is awsome man. despite the lip sync. | how could anyone fall for this. i mean these guys are from germany and have an accent that would be noticed slightly when singing. second the singers have an african american, deep bassed voice distinctly. | Yahoo!!! how could anyone fall for this? easy. this was when there was actually art and talent in the music and the songs meant something. | Those music are BullShiat! just cause they didnt sing it doesnt mean that the song sucks. they were just better looking the the real people. | Me flipan las hombreras con las Mallas WOW!!! | Dame, Sie kennen das ist richtig. | I’m not gay, but I loved these guys!!! | I loved these girls too. | I know what they did was wrong, but they were homeless and desperate. | I can’t undestand why those huge shoulder pads were so popular. (: | MAN I LOVE THESE SEXY FUCKAS LOL I DONT CARE IF THEY WERE FRODS !!!!! AND I LIKE THERE MOVES LOL THERE SO KOOL!! | I loved a lot this song and mili vanili when I was 15 and I was so disappointed when I knew they didn’t ever sing!! | MIlli VanIlli is the shit, i beat off to their poster on my wall every goddam night…handsome muther fuckers. | melenas al viento….juuasss!! | MIlli VanIlli était un superbe groupe, qui se soucie de s’avoir qui chantaient? Il y a tellement de Faux chanteurs (Black box,Technotronic, Wham, Boney m, etc..) pourquoi vous les américains vous etes vous acharnés sur eux ? Sa en vallait il la peine, jusque Robert Pilatus en meurt !!!. | those aint shoulderpads bro those delts are the REAL DEAL! | If only they spend a bit more time securing their roots… | Listen you little punk ass bitches. This song set the fabric for all modern music. | When I left St.Carlos Stadium in 1985 I was never the same, i love the way when you hear how they actually speak. | people looked like gays back then they don’t sing self how are the voice then, is the voice the computer ??????????? | which ones dead? | The light-skinned one, this is one of the best produced tracks in the history of western civilization. | We front…but who DOESN’T know the words to this song??? | Art is art and although this can even be seen as abstract in its historic execution…It’s stIll very well made. | ha ha ha this song it was booming in Indonesia, remain me when i played roller skate in “topteen” disco&roller skate club. Around 1980-1990 it was only one roller skate club in Yogyakarta Indonesia! | it’s so georgous, grr! | it reminds me everything when I was child. | I have no feelings for these guys whatsoever. | when this song came out (I was about 11/12) i thought the one with the green eyes was the best looking guy I had ever seen in my life – looking back at this now they are completely asexual lol. | Mir ist völlig egal ob die Playback singen. Die tanzen geil und sehen gut aus 🙂 | ellos, un fraude, y el bailecito del video, patetico, pero me encanta esta canción. | Actually people without shoulder pads really suck. | What’s fucken real these days??? | mémorable tant c’est ridicule… c’est quoi ces habits?… cette chorégraphie catastrophique? | Yea the white looking one kIlled himself. He was half german and half black. A very good looking man. | 4 minutes and 15 seconds of brain damage. | my god such a historical document. | i kno rite. | Das waren ja schon sehr geile Typen. | They are so girly. They are pretty. | just come out and say it. fuuuuuuuuuuucking awesome i cant stop listening to this song. and the blazers… wooooah!! | nice song but terrible song. | where were they from?, i know they weren’t americans. One are from Germany, and the other from France. | negrada de la buena una rola chingona mi epoca de banda de los escorpiones de la zains de varanda de campeche. | but the real musicans are ugly. | It must have been normal to do those actions in the 80s. | Hell, they deserve props for just daring to rock those big ass shoulderpads….Looking like two pre-makeup Klingon Imperial guards and shit. | this is horrible for so many reasons, but…i….cant…stop…..watching…this. | But these guys were foreign. French or something. The voices just did not match. | When I’m hearing myself I feel myself so old. | Making something this unbelieably cheezy, yet so totally GREAT requires talent and lots of it. | best lip-synchers ever. | i dig the fist pound at 3:38. | wtf this is the most horrible shit in the world. why would humans listen to this crap | MY DAd always danced with me to this song. and i was only 1-2 years old it was my favourite song & still are !!! | Da verguenza ajena ,bonitas chaquetas…. | Were they gay? (I hope so). Someone please tell me Fab is gay. They are beautiful. | is this a gay dance? no this is not a gay dance, remember this is from the 80’s. | haha že ake tanečky dávajú, ale inak supiš pesnička. | Those dredlocks, those dredlocks, kinda remind me of PREDATOR alien. | I think you’re underestimating the dancing abilities; It’s not easy dancing with shoulder pads the size of small countries. |

 

 

 

 

REFORMANCE: MARCH 2, 2012: 24,600,000 RESULTS. TEXT FOR TWO VOICES

“I am ashamed of myself”
—Rob Pilatus

 

 

I am ashamed of XXXmy body
I am ashamed of XXXmy family
I am ashamed of XXXEurope
I am ashamed of XXXmyself
I am ashamed of XXXmyself being a Turk
I am ashamed of XXXmy playlist
I am ashamed of XXXmy country
I am ashamed of XXXwhat I did for a Klondike bar
I am ashamed of XXXbeing white
I am ashamed of XXXmy mother
I am ashamed of XXXmy breasts
I am ashamed of XXXbeing black
I am ashamed of XXXmy penis size
I am ashamed of XXXmy past
I am ashamed of XXXalmost always tending toward a gesture of shame when
I am ashamed of XXXappearing naked before what one calls an animal
I am ashamed of XXXbeing a human
I am ashamed of XXXmy lack of desire
I am ashamed of XXXwhat the internet has done to me
I am ashamed of XXXbeing an Indian
I am ashamed of XXXmy weight
I am ashamed of XXXmy century, but I have to smile
I am ashamed of XXXmyself for doing that
I am ashamed of XXXhow I eat
I am ashamed of XXXwhat I did to myself
I am ashamed of XXXGoogle
I am ashamed of XXXour response to Katrina
I am ashamed of XXXmy long tongue
I am ashamed of XXXthe choices I made
I am ashamed of XXXhaving absolutely no purpose in the world
I am ashamed of XXXmy stretch marks
I am ashamed of XXXeverything
I am ashamed of XXXmy reaction at seeing Adele happy
I am ashamed of XXXmy stupidity
I am ashamed of XXXbeing a German
I am ashamed of XXXmy shame
I am ashamed of XXXmy SAT score
I am ashamed of XXXbeing a virgin
I am ashamed of XXXmy vagina
I am ashamed of XXXthe Iranian regime
I am ashamed of XXXspeaking
I am ashamed of XXXmy vestments, of being hungry
I am ashamed of XXXmy violent history, my rape of the globe
I am ashamed of XXXmy dirty car, or my poverty-stricken childhood
I am ashamed of XXXmy broken English
I am ashamed of XXXrespect, therefore I circle shame
I am ashamed of XXXwhat I write
I am ashamed of XXXmy old age
I am ashamed of XXXmy dull and careless heart
I am ashamed of XXXthis abundance of light words
I am ashamed of XXXbeing born or I am astonished at it
I am ashamed of XXXso long a silence, and knowe not how to excuse it
I am ashamed of XXXmyself that I ever said anything of you that was so unfriendly or so
I am ashamed of XXXunjust
I am ashamed of XXXmy own folly, and madness, and disingenuity, when I call to mind how
I am ashamed of XXXgreedily I have sucked in my own pollution
I am ashamed of XXXhis playing with dolls and the girls all the time
I am ashamed of XXXnegative campaigning
I am ashamed of XXXmy life because its empty
I am ashamed of XXXbeing a lesbian
I am ashamed of XXXmy heterosexuality
I am ashamed of XXXmy weight
I am ashamed of XXXbelonging to bureaucracy
I am ashamed of XXXbeing Somali
I am ashamed of XXXmy disabilities
I am ashamed of XXXthe things I’ve been put through
I am ashamed of XXXthe person I am
I am ashamed of XXXmy cum
I am ashamed of XXXshowing my partner my body
I am ashamed of XXXwhat my phone says about me
I am ashamed of XXXmy stripper past
I am ashamed of XXXmy addiction
I am ashamed of XXXmy discoloured underarms
I am ashamed of XXXmy addiction to porn
I am ashamed of XXXbeing depressed
I am ashamed of XXXmy foot fetish
I am ashamed of XXXmy bad teeth
I am ashamed of XXXmy hate-filled fellow Christians
I am ashamed of XXXbecause I am pregnant again and not married
I am ashamed of XXXthe hair on my back
I am ashamed of XXXmy nipples
I am ashamed of XXXmy boob size
I am ashamed of XXXhaving my butt checked
I am ashamed of XXXmy horrible body
I am ashamed of XXXmy eyes, cause they still cry for you
I am ashamed of XXXit, but it gets me hard
I am ashamed of XXXmy socks
I am ashamed of
I am ashamed of
I am ashamed of
I am ashamed of
I am ashamed of
I am ashamed of
I’m ashamed of
I’m ashamed of
I’m ashamed of
I’m ashamed of
I’m ashamed of
I’m ashamed of
I’m a shame dove
I’m a shame dove

 

 

____

CHRISTIAN HAWKEY’s most recent book is Ventrakl, a cross-genre work published by Ugly Duckling Presse in 2010. A new book, Sonne from Ort, a bilingual collaborative erasure created with the German poet Uljana Wolf, is due out from kookbooks in December of 2012. He is an officer of OORS.net.