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Article in Liberation

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  • #2
    Not sure if it's the whole article Mike, but here's a link.
    You see, it's... it's no good, Montag. We've all got to be alike. The only way to be happy is for everyone to be made equal.


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    "I am an observer of life, a non-participant who takes no sides. I am in the regimented society, but not of it." Moondog, 1964


    • #4
      My Goodness! Mike, what an incredible improvement on your French! You never fail to surprise me.

      XX (flabbergasted)
      Google ergo sum


      • #5
        Is there an English translation or your original available anywhere Mike? I tried running the French through the Babel Fish translator and this is what came out:

        Robert Crumb genesis Denoël Graphic, 220 pp., 29 € “It is out of the beaten paths that the force of reality was.” Bob Dylan Profiting myself from current curiosity for the roots of the contemporary culture, through refined republications of my books in America or elsewhere, it is able to me to wonder whether attraction for these works with energy iconoclast is rather dictated by the desire to revive of old ideals or by that to better seize the origins of the pop culture of today. The public which is interested in it is often the same one which scorns or is unaware of purely our recent works. “Pet Sounds”. The fifteen rebellious and innovative years that we call the sixties began in 1963 with the exit from the first individual one from Beatles and the assassination from JFK to be completed on the ultimate round Stiff Records of 1978. Those among us who tried right from the start to face certain realities, either continue to face there, or settled in the comfort of the repetition. That the repetition is advantageous explains the prosperity of so many tribute bands. One rejoue of the albums live with exactly the same beaches of silence as on the original discs. Brian Wilson remade on scene notes for note the integrality of Pet Sounds. The albums of Beatles are remastérisés to sound exactly as you would have heard them if you had had the privilege to divide a pair of ear-phones with George Martin in Abbey Road. All that feels more nostalgia than the revisitation. Distracting, but not very satisfactory for those which, in a way or of another, succeeded in maintaining alive this spark of integrity and of offensive curiosity which set ablaze their work. These artists feel held to go on their own way, without consideration of waitings of the public. One can suspect that the recovery by Ray Davis of its Waterloo Sunset as a choral society is justified by the commercial instinct, but it is impossible to show Bob Dylan to exploit its fans while leaving Christmas in the Heart, its album of Christmas carols. Its trajectory remains as interior and personal as it always was it. The same thing can be known as of Robert Crumb. If Dylan is the band of the Sixties, Crumb is the draughtsman who best represented the spirit of the time. Both unrepentant outsiders, identified with the margin, the eccentric, the idiosyncrasy. Born in Midwest, they called in question all that one had inculcated to them in their childhood. As soon as they could it, they left on their premises to join the urban complex which was appropriate to them best. For Dylan, New York, the coffee houses, Elliott Jack and Woody Guthrie. In the case of Crumb, San Francisco, the comics undergound and rock groups alternate. Both attracted each other controversies with liberal America, almost as much as with that of the conservatives. […] Both however preserved an amazing fidelity with themselves taking into account the sum of adulation, success and fury to which they were subjected. Both were shown of inaccuracy towards their fans who, in return, buried their work under an impressive mass of interpretations. The career of Crumb followed a curve going of Zap Comics in New Yorker but, like Dylan, it forever inflected its trajectory to take pleasure in an editor. People who protested against the multiple changes of style of Dylan are the same ones which was sulky Kafka de Crumb. They wanted that Mr. Natural “keeps one truckin'” for eternity. Mysticism. Crumb was always a prompt satirist to scoff the culture underground, dedicating its racial and sexual stereotypes to the examination without kindness of America whose people avoided speaking and people took the practice to see irony in its work, even when there was not. When the noise started to run there are four or five years that it prepared a graphic version of the Genesis, it was held for assets that it was going to be devoted to a disrespectful parody aiming at the fundamentalist biblical ones which took such an amount of to be able in the United States since the Eighties. But, like Dylan, Crumb acknowledges to have a deep sense of mysticism. In an interview of 2005, Steve Beautiful, the draughtsman of Guardian, questioned it on this project. Was it intended to offend the Christians? Crumb answered: “I do not have to offend them. I want only to show them, say, the scene where the son of Jacob sleeps with his daughter-in-law disguised as a priestess of the temple. It is in the Bible. How they will take it, I do not know. I will be satisfied to draw what there is in it and which one had tendency to enjoliver. It is surprising all that one finds in this text when one reads it closely.” Not only it resisted the injunctions of its public, but it chose to carry out a cartoon as serious as possible, referring only to scholars (of which the Californian Robert Alter) and with historical sources to confer on its architectures, its landscapes and its costumes, as much of fidelity than possible at the evoked periods. Its characters have a resolutely Mediterranean aspect, except for God, represented as in the traditional illustrations of the Bible (it resembles Charlton Heston, while its Adam makes think of Johnny Weissmuller, most famous of all the Tarzan). If the editors of Crumb in the whole world hoped for a controversy with the Church, it seems that they were disappointed. The scholarship of the book was greeted by the Protestant world. A catholic priest spoke in praise of it on a radio Frenchwoman. Crumb should not however not be long in receiving its ration of death threats coming from Texas and the Belt Bible, from where those came which aimed in the Sixties and Seventies my own book on Jesus, Voici the man. To avoid the attacks, the American editors took care to advise in cover “the reading supervised by an adult for the minors”. In fact, the Genesis of Crumb is a true page-turner, particularly for somebody as me who had never really read this text. One finds violence there, adultery and fornication in great quantity and the character of God very often seems to assert the paternity of the events after they occurred. But all is in the original. I checked. Even the litany of the genealogies ends up producing a kind of hallucinated rate/rhythm. The supernatural blood, sex and elements offer a lighting on the current policy to the Middle East which filled me at the same time of hope and despair for peace in this area. Zones. As at Dylan, the longevity of Crumb is explained by the fact why it adapted never to the taste of the moment but kept the course which its instincts of creator indicated to him. The result is that the world must run behind him to catch up with it rather than the reverse. Many Americans still wonder how to react to this respectful, honest work (Crumb is not monk) and however carrying sights of such a freshness. Because such is the real success of the Genesis of Crumb, and the reason for which he does not intend to give following this adaptation: without resorting to the easy innovations, without real change of prospect, neither obvious irony, nor corrosive comment, it brings its glance of creator to a consequent piece of our common mythology. In that its step is identical to that of so many major artists who return without slackening towards our folklore and our legends, in search of subjects which touch in us zones seldom reached, but conceal and incarnate way very deep each one of our fears and our aspirations. This book will not offer the comfort of nostalgia to us, but it could help us well to reach a clearer comprehension of some of the problems which attack our XXIe century. Translated from English by F.M. Lennox

        The only change I made was to the title of Pet Sounds, which was in English and came out as Fart Sounds!

        Auto translators eh...? I would love to have had the privilege to divide a pair of ear-phones with George Martin in Abbey Road! Not intending to be impertinent, I just find these things amusing.
        Last edited by Marca; 12-03-2009, 02:51 PM.
        'You know, I can't keep up with you. If I hadn't met you in person, I quite honestly would NOT believe you really existed. I just COULDN'T. You do so MUCH... if half of what goes into your zines is to be believed, you've read more at the age of 17 than I have at the age of 32 - LOTS more'

        Archie Mercer to Mike (Burroughsania letters page, 1957)


        • #6
          Sorry. I don't have an English version. All I'm arguing at base is that these guys have won the authority to do what they damn well please and if committed fans feel betrayed they should show more respect.

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