I left out the last eight verses

[sovay]

Seriously, there should be an emoticon for not actually dead—I'm not, even if this inbox full of unanswered e-mail says otherwise. I got a cold. I dropped off the map. Mostly I've been self-medicating with various books and Flanders and Swann,¹ although last week Eric and I watched Norwegian Insomnia (1997) and this Wednesday Viking Zen showed me The Secret of Kells (2009).

In any case, the mail just brought me two awesome things: Louise Brooks' Lulu in Hollywood (1982), which I suspect of being a birthday present from my best cousins ever,² and my contributor's copy of Not One of Us #44, in which can be found my poem "In the Earth in Those Days." It is about Biblical selkies; asakiyume introduced me to the folklore. Appropriately, it appears in the same issue as Jeannelle Ferreira's "The Seal Wife," also Loren Rhoads' "Catalyst," Patricia Russo's "With the Blue Heart People," and other fine pieces of autumn and change. Go forth and pick up a copy of your own. I am going to read Louise Brooks until I have to leave for a rehearsal. Wish me luck.

1. Probably to no one's surprise but my own, I find that I consider Donald Swann awesome: I am already inclined to respect an ostensible straight man who goes off with Greek tongue-twisters and can sing about hippopotami in Russian even before he decides that going mainstream from light comedy means setting Tolkien to music and writing an opera of Perelandra. I don't suppose anyone has his recording of Sydney Carter's "Lord of the Dance"?

2. Edit: Confirmed. Best cousins ever.

Comments

[teenybuffalo.livejournal.com]

Donald Swann is a fascinating character. A guy I know sings his arrangement of Treebeard's song from The Two Towers, which is perfect, as right for the words as music can possibly be for free-verse poetry.

I am in love with Michael Flanders, now that you mention it. (I fell hard, the moment that he said, "Bonfire Night is coming. You can always tell. Swann pushed me up the road and we got four shillings and sixpence." I find it oddly badass that he could make that kind of joke about himself.)

[sovay]

A guy I know sings his arrangement of Treebeard's song from The Two Towers, which is perfect, as right for the words as music can possibly be for free-verse poetry.

With piano, or more traditionally? I'd no idea Swann's settings even existed until four days ago, tops; I don't know if they assimilated into filk repertoire or if they get performed at classical concerts or if the original LP is just very coveted by Tolkienistas.

I fell hard, the moment that he said, "Bonfire Night is coming. You can always tell. Swann pushed me up the road and we got four shillings and sixpence." I find it oddly badass that he could make that kind of joke about himself.

That is very fair. I am just—apparently—similarly endeared of mildly manic pianists with mad language skills who are sort of Christian mystics in their spare time.

[teenybuffalo.livejournal.com]

Unaccompanied. We had B. over to a singing party, and at one point when things were a little slack, he just asked us if we'd like to hear Treebeard's song, and leaned back and bellowed it out in a tuneful sort of way. I don't know what it would sound like with piano and Donald Swann.

[sovay]

Unaccompanied.

I imagine it would be very good that way.

I don't know what it would sound like with piano and Donald Swann.

Swann's the piano; the singer for the original 1967 recordings was William Elvin. He has a lovely clean baritone, but I'd have chosen someone less mannered; I might like him best on the almost unaccompanied, plainchant-like "Namárië." As mentioned to lignota above, my favorite track on the album as it currently exists is Swann's own "Bilbo's Last Song." I know he recorded the rest, but I don't know if they're publicly available. I'd love to hear him on "The Road Goes Ever On" or "Upon the Hearth the Fire is Red" or either of the Elvish songs.