In praise of the everyday

Hyldest til Hverdagen is by Danish writer Dan Turèll. A version with music by Halfdan E is included on the album Pas På Pengene.  Here’s my translation:

In Praise of the Everyday (Hyldest til Hverdagen)

by Dan Turèll

I’m fond of the everyday

most of all I’m fond of the everyday

The slow awakening to the familiar view

that all the same is never quite so familiar

the family’s at once both intimate and after sleep’s distance unfamiliar faces

morning kisses

the smack of the post landing in the hall

the smell of coffee

the ritual wandering to the shop around the corner

after milk, cigarettes, newspapers –

I’m fond of the everyday even through all its irritations

the bus that clatters outside in the street

the telephone that incessantly disturbs the loveliest blankest standing-still nothing in my aquarium

the birds that chirp from their cage

the old neighbour who looks in

the kid who has to be fetched from nursery just as one is getting going

the constant shopping list in the jacket pocket

with its steady demand for meat, potatoes, coffee and crackers

the quick little one at the local

when we all meet with the shopping bags and wipe the sweat from our brows -

I’m fond of the everyday

the daily agenda

also the biological

the unavoidable procedures of bath and toilet

the obligatory shaver

the letters that must be written

the rent demand

balancing the chequebook

the washing up

the recognition of having run out of nappies or tape -

I’m fond of the everyday

not in opposition to festivity and colour, high times and hullaballoo

have that as well

with all of its leftover cinders

so much unsaid and approximated

floating and hanging in the air afterwards

like some species of psychic hangover

only everyday’s morning coffee can cure -

fine enough with parties! There’s all the room for euphoria! Let the thousand pearls bubble!

but what happiness it is afterwards to lay yourself down

in rest’s and everyday’s bed

with the familiar

all the same not quite so familiar

same view.

I’m fond of the everyday

I’m wild about it

stop the clock I’m so fond of the everyday

I’m so stinking fond of the everyday . . .

The above is based on the Danish CD booklet. Other published versions are less sparing with the punctuation. This translation first appeared on the blog in April 2009 as part of a longer post.

Homage to the Everyday copyright © The Estate of Dan Turèll.

There will never be another like you

Der vil aldrig blive en anden som dig

by Dan Turèll

There will never be another like you, never another like you. Never. Although there will be many, I know that, here where we part. There will be many. Many to walk hand in hand with along the beach. Many to meet in bars in the early hours. Many to go home with, or to take home and lie sweating or gasping over or under. And sweat and gasp will be the same, but there will never be another like you. Never another like you.

To love of you, to love you, I love you still. I loved you long. I have loved you so long. I have loved you as long as I can remember. I will love you for all time to come. I would have loved you still. I would have could ought should love you, longer yet. Always. Even the simplest grammar you make ominous.

There will never be another like you. There will be others. And a lot could happen between me and them. Maybe I will marry others. Breed children and buy a house with others. Sit and eat breakfast and have coffee, toast, and orange juice at the kitchen table every morning with others. And watch TV programmes in the evening together with others. But all the same I will never be able to forget you.

There will never be another like you. Never another like you. You who are now sitting at another breakfast table. With coffee and toast, after lying gasping under another last night, another who maybe doesn’t even know how well toasted you want your bread. And I will always long for you. And always try to picture to myself where you are now. How you look in this moment. And what you’re doing.

There will never be another like you, I know that, here where we part. And in that way you’ll always be there.

_

Copyright © the estate of Dan Turèll. The translation is my own.

Images: the first and last are from Bo Bedre’s Idébog by Ellen Bisgaard, © Forlaget Palle Fogtdal 1967, and the second, third and fourth are from Danmarks Bygningskultur (Vol. 2) by Harald Langberg, Gyldendalske Boghandel - Nordisk Forlag 1955. 

You’re getting better

I want you to know you’re getting better.
I dont care what everyone’s been saying,
You’re getting better.

They’re the ones who’ve been getting worse.
And uh, they don’t like what you’ve been doing.
Understandably.

You think they can watch you
strip yourself of one unnecessary thing after another?
Day by day becoming more, so to speak,
naked, more free,
and not feel the way they do?
Of course not.
. . .

Video from tonlitt. You’ve been listening to the voice and words of Ken Nordine (© Mr Nordine) who also makes videos of his own. On CD here.

Uncle Danny dug that trip in his day, and now Norm has found the path.

More recently from Mr Nordine:

Dan Turèll and Donald Duck

An excerpt from a Danmarks Radio interview with Dan Turèll, for the TV programme Rubrik, 1976:

You have written an essay about Donald Duck, and a poem to Uncle Scrooge.

Yes, Donald Duck is a great man. I have said it with the words that in these times where so many offer gurus, and where so many of my own generation suddenly sit on street corners and chant Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, or run joyous and happy after the plump Maharaji, or go for tests with Scientology, in these times the only anti-guru that we can sensibly use to vaccinate ourselves against all that guru devilry, that must be my great guru, the man who taught me all I know and can do, my personal Maharaji Ji, Donald Duck.

I think Donald Duck is the best example we can take in our everyday lives today, where so many sigh after new and fresh inspiration, because what characterises Donald Duck, and it has characterised him since he came to Denmark in the late ’40s, that is that Donald Duck is always ready every Tuesday.

Donald Duck is always being beaten down, Donald Duck gets knocked down by The Beagle Boys, his nephews laugh at him, Gladstone Gander always wins the old sofa at auction where there’s a treasure map hidden away, Uncle Scrooge just orders him about, and tells him that now he has to go over and check on some old railway or other, long derelict and far out in the desert, which hasn’t paid a dividend on its shares in more than thirty years, Daisy Duck laughs at him and is always on the lookout for another better duck, and all the same, despite all this, Donald Duck is ready, and comes down the road, merrily whistling a fresh tune, every Tuesday. This time he knows, this time everything will work out, this time he’ll manage it, Uncle Scrooge will admire him, appoint him as sole heir, Daisy will say “Oh, Donald,” and the nephews will look at him with eyes wide with wonder, and tell their friends just what a fantastic uncle they have.

And it doesn’t work out that way, and we all know that it won’t, because by now we’ve known Donald long enough, we know quite well that it will go in the usual way. He gets a job in a bakery and what happens, he comes to mix concrete in the dough ... he gets a job in the zoo as a night watchman, and all the animals escape, and we know it, and he ends up in the Foreign Legion again, and the nephews get a postcard in the final panel, and all the same there he is again next Tuesday.

And that’s why I think that Donald Duck is a magnificent example for people of today, who also must be ready to start over with the same indomitability every morning, even though the day before has been so full of violence and loathing, as practically everyone’s days are.

My Translation. Original film copyright © DR.

For more along these lines, read Michael Barrier on The Mystery of Donald Duck, and see his follow up, and to hear Dan Turèll preach the duck faith in Danish, listen to Anders And Evangeliet.

Image: Cover art by Mike Royer, based on an oil painting by Carl Barks. It illustrates the Carl Barks story Donald Duck and the Ghost of the Grotto, first published in 1947. Copyright © The Walt Disney Company.

Diverse drift-days

Diverse drift-days (Diverse drivedage)

Dan Turèll

These drift-days, daughter. They are like small lakes to swim in with still-standing water - white lagoons of page after page that we leaf through forward into the day. It’s a rhythm I haven’t known since I was a child.

We draw a little, we practice a couple of letters, we go to the zoo. We contemplate every single animal at length. It is as if you want to imprint them for yourself now, as though you perhaps in some place or other know, that they won’t be there much longer.

Nothing happens, only an ever closer contact as between those who have just fallen in love, or like when a true friendship is underway. We understand each other better and better.

You will soon be five and you will soon forget. Just like all that I have myself forgotten - faded pictures of Father, Mother and child in the Commons Park, 1st May 1954 - that’s how it will be for you. But I say thank you, little treasure, thanks in time, thanks for the slow drifting rhythm, I had otherwise completely forgotten.

Copyright © the estate of Dan Turèll.

This translation is my own. The original is included in an excellent film about Dan Turèll, Så kort og mærkeligt livet er (So short and strange life is), 2008, directed by Anders Østergaard. A clip can be seen here. No subtitles I’m afraid.

I will resist the temptation to illustrate this post, so that you may draw on your own personal album instead.

Homage to the Everyday

In this spring song cycle I find myself double-tagged from Martin and Roland, which makes it an offer I can’t refuse.

Their game is this:

List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they’re not any good, but they must be songs you’re really enjoying now, shaping your spring. Post these instructions in your blog along with your 7 songs. Then tag 7 other people to see what they’re listening to.

Bearing in mind that my right now is a long now, and I plan that my spring should continue for decades to come, here are seven songs:

New England by Jonathan Richman & The Modern Lovers. I’ve never been to New England, nor any other part of the Americas, but this makes me homesick for there, plus it makes me think of Ted.

I Chase The Devil aka Ironshirt as performed by Madness on The Dangermen Sessions. Original by Max Romeo. I could have picked Shame & Scandal from the same album. The other day I heard Peggy singing an approximation of that one while she was playing.

I’m Happy by the Ivor Cutler Trio, from Ludo. I also love Mary’s Drawer on the same album. We recently came across a children’s book by Ivor Cutler, Meal One, illustrated by Helen Oxenbury many years ago. I highly recommend it if you can find a copy.

The Train From Kansas City by The Shangri-Las. I first heard this song in a terrific noisy guitar version by The Shop Assistants.

Title Music from Merchant-Ivory’s film Bombay Talkie, included on the soundtrack to The Darjeeling Limited. I’ve long intended to write something about Wes Anderson’s film as a third installment in the stalled Narcissus at the Movies series of posts. One day, perhaps.

Rock ’n’ Roll Won’t Save You Now by my friend John Dog, to be found here, and in a different version on a rare CD he gave me.

Hyldest til Hverdagen by Dan Turèll, from Pas På Pengene. Spoken rather than sung, but I’ll hear no argument. My father has promised me a copy of the new documentary about Denmark’s late lamented Beat poet, crime novelist, and snappy dresser. Here’s my translation:

Homage to the Everyday (Hyldest til Hverdagen)

by Dan Turèll

I’m fond of the everyday

most of all I’m fond of the everyday

The slow awakening to the familiar view

that all the same is never quite so familiar

the family’s at once both intimate and after sleep’s distance unfamiliar faces

morning kisses

the smack of the post landing in the hall

the smell of coffee

the ritual wandering to the shop around the corner

after milk, cigarettes, newspapers -

I’m fond of the everyday even through all its irritations

the bus that clatters outside in the street

the telephone that incessantly disturbs the loveliest blankest standing-still nothing in my aquarium

the birds that chirp from their cage

the old neighbour who looks in

the kid who has to be fetched from nursery just as one is getting going

the constant shopping list in the jacket pocket

with its steady demand for meat, potatoes, coffee and crackers

the quick little one at the local

when we all meet with the shopping bags and wipe the sweat from our brows -

I’m fond of the everyday

the daily agenda

also the biological

the unavoidable procedures of bath and toilet

the obligatory shaver

the letters that must be written

the rent demand

balancing the chequebook

the washing up

the recognition of having run out of nappies or tape -

I’m fond of the everyday

not in contrast to festivity and colour, high times and hullaballoo

have that as well

with all of its leftover cinders

so much unsaid and approximated

floating and hanging in the air afterwards

like some species of psychic hangover

only everyday’s morning coffee can cure -

fine enough with parties! There’s all the room for euphoria! Let the thousand pearls bubble!

but what happiness it is afterwards to lay yourself down

in rest’s and everyday’s bed

with the familiar

all the same not quite so familiar

same view.

I’m fond of the everyday

I’m wild about it

stop the clock I’m so fond of the everyday

I’m so stinking fond of the everyday . . .

The above is based on the Danish CD booklet. Other published versions are less sparing with the punctuation.

Seven songs is not enough of course. Nothing there from The Temptations, nothing from Arthur Brown, or from The Jack Nitzsche Story, or from the London Is The Place For Me series, or from Raymond Scott, or Pop Duo Bauer, nor their friend Bud Benderbe, none of which stay quiet for long in this house.

Next time . . .

And then I’m supposed to tag seven other saps, I mean worthy and enthusiastic bloggers. How about Oscar Grillo, Unemployed Dad, Sietske in Beirut, Uncle Eddie, Paul Duane (is that blog dead and do you have another?), Steve Simpson, but only of course if the mood apprehends them, if they crave excitement, if they lack sense, if they actually want to.

(Update: Paul has posted a great list here.)

Wait, that was only six. Well if you’re not in the list consider yourself number seven. And if you have no blog feel free to use the comments facility here.

A last link, I particularly appreciated Poumista’s contribution to this game, which included interesting information and links on Leonard Cohen’s version of The Partisan amongst other songs.

At top, acrylic sketch, Hampstead Heath yesterday around noon.

Homage to the Everyday copyright © The Estate of Dan Turèll.

My TV Drama

My TV Drama

by Dan Turèll

I have always wanted to make a TV drama

There will be just two characters

I can see them now

They’ll be a relatively younger couple

who are sitting by the fireplace after lunch

it’s all the same which social group they belong to

they could well be academics

or they might just as well work in a bank

and have a weakness for Pavarotti that’s quite alright

it just has to be a relatively younger couple by a fireplace

they have rented a summerhouse and there is a fireplace

and they want to light a fire

they don’t have too much open authentic old-fashioned acoustic fire in the air-conditioned back home

they have all day long experienced such violent forces of nature as Sun and Sea

so now they want to experience Fire

and then it is that it won’t light

They pile log upon log

but the fire doesn’t catch hold

they take turns to find new possibilities

and new explanations and new methods

but it will not work

and gradually the irritation rises

everyone hates being unable to do what they want

they don’t necessarily begin to argue

it doesn’t have to be like that

but there hangs an irritation about the place

and it could at any time explode

And so it is that to get the fire to catch he grabs a newspaper

he throws in the newspaper

the flame rises

now it’s there

but soon it dies away again

so another newspaper is needed, quickly

and then one more

and then there is only one newspaper left, in with it

and that was today’s

so she asks if that was necessary

‘that was the new one’

and he sees only the fire and the flame that rises

and it’s as if it isn’t his own voice he hears

when he says: ‘but there’s never anything in those newspapers’

and he knows well it was him who absolutely wanted to get the newspaper this morning

but suddenly it becomes clear to him that he likes to see it burn

he likes to see these murders and muggings and share prices

and commodity prices and book reviews and car ads

burn

just burn, nice and slow

it’s exactly as though he gets a just revenge

it’s as though he becomes a little younger with every scrap of paper that burns up

a little lighter in his body

he gets the desire to burn the business correspondence

that he took with to the summerhouse because ‘there’s always something’

and he fetches it and throws it on the fire

and he smiles at her

and at the fire

and she rises suddenly and fetches the novel she’s reading

and throws it on the fire

she will never know how it ends

but she knows there is something else that is ending

And so they burn

and they burn

I don’t know how long they’ll burn

in reality it would in any case take an evening

they burn their identities and their old letters

all their days peel off them as though burnt out

and all the while they laugh and they laugh

quite astonished

for the first time high

on emptiness -

My translation from the Danish original,

Mit TV-drama by Dan Turèll.

Copyright © the estate of Dan Turèll.

Photos from the family album, a house in Denmark, 1968.

Taxis

The art above was created for the Raymond Scott CD Kodachrome, on the Basta label.

For the front of the CD box I did an acrylic painting, the back you can see below, but the taxi above was on the CD itself. I rendered the final version with a coarse dot screen, and what appears white above was left unprinted so that the silver of the CD showed through.

The taxi theme came of course from 'Confusion Among A Fleet of Taxicabs Upon Meeting With a Fare', the last track on the album.  Other taxi tunes I like are Tokyo Taxi Robot by Arling and Cameron, and Jeg Skulle Have Været Taxachauffør by Dan Turèll - lyrics below.

While I'm at it, can I name some favourite taxi films? Yes, I know the Scorsese/Schrader/DeNiro one is good, but for real taxi excitement see Satyajit Ray's Abhijan! But before the main feature, a cartoon.: Mickey Mouse in Traffic Troubles. Now, back to Dan Turell:

I should have been a taxi driver
by Dan Turèll
(my translation from Danish - kellie)

I should have been a taxi driver
- Ahh I should have been a taxi driver
suddenly I can see it -
that's what I should have been!

I would have been a great taxi driver
the taxi drivers' greatest hit
the cabdriver to end all cabdrivers -

I would have sat there at the steering wheel
been at home and at work at the same time
like a snail in its shell
or like the perfect publican -
I would sit beside the customer
divided by ashtray and creaking gearstick
and I would sit erect and calm like a well-practiced rat -

and I'd make the customers comfortable -
I would cheer them up with the latest from the weather forecast
(I'd have the radio going the whole day
and maybe even a thermos flask) -
I would give them advice and tips
about where they should go for what
and where they could find the same thing cheaper
and where they could find the same thing with music -
I would recommend a good restaurant a good dentist a good accountant a good cabaret
I would offer suggestions for their pools coupons
and reminisce about the runners up from 1948 or the Fiffer-Revues with the older customers
and the ones from the provinces I would indicate suitable hotels
I would help them all with their problems
I would have tried the same thing
from alcohol to divorce,
from stress to schizophrenia
and I would be sympathetic
and I would try not to know better -

buuut at the same time I would be a pure devil in the inner city traffic!
I would know exactly where and when
I could take the corner on two wheels
and where a more dignified facade was required
(because common sense changes the law from street corner to street corner) -
I would calculate the traffic underway
like in a game of chess
I would have my tactics in place
like a six day racer in the field
before every set of traffic lights
I would know all the short cuts and escape routes
I would treat the wheel like my own hand
I would mercilessly see through the other motorists bewildered manoeuvres
and at every moment know their position in the lane
and I wouldn't hesitate to criticise their driving
I would give it a loud and entertaining running commentary
while I myself chattily drove with nonchalant perfection
with one finger on the wheel
all through the city
in all kinds of weather
at all hours of the day and night
with all kinds of people of every age sex and type
rich people
poor people
happy people
crazy people
drunken people
drowning people
dying people
birthing people -

and I would smile to them all
and admit that it was too bad
that these were hard times
but that it would probably all work out
as long as we didn't lose our sense of humour -

And once in a while
maybe once a month
I would be gloomy and downcast
and black and forbidding and misanthropic and moonsick and suspicious
and look as though I expected everyone to want to mug me from behind
or at least do a runner from the fare -
that day I would shout and scream obscenities and swear at all the city's other cars
and that day I'd only laugh on the inside -

but the day after I'd once again
and for at least a month on
be the same good old ordinary popular driver
'Taxi-Turèll'
as they would call me -

I can hardly wait
when I'm big I want to be a taxi driver!
in my next life maybe I'll be a taxi driver - FINALLY!

'I should have been a taxi driver' copyright © estate of Dan Turèll