(I'm) Stranded - The Saints
Cry - The Birthday Party
Gamble For It - Rapids
7/11 - The Christophers
Down In Mexico - The Coasters
Man of Stone - Toadies
The Darkest Side - The Middle East
Love Is Paranoid - The Distillers
Distorting A Code - Spinnerette
Superpowerz - Step-Panther
Gebbie Street - DZ
When the River Runs Dry - Hunters and Collectors
Whispers And Moans - Crowded House
Jelly Legs - Children Collide
(Lyrical and literary likeables - the mostly Australian show)
Show archive [mixcloud.com]
Poems:
From Book One, The Iliad
By Homer (8th Century B.C.)
(Tr. Richmond Lattimore)
Sing, goddess, the anger of Peleus’ son Achilleus
and its devastation, which put pains thousandfold upon the Achaians,
hurled in their multitudes to the house of Hades strong souls
of heroes, but gave their bodies to be the delicate feastings
of dogs, of all birds, and the will of Zeus was accomplished
since that time when first there stood in division of conflict
Atreus’ son the lord of men and brilliant Achilleus.
What god was it then set them together in bitter collision?
Zeus’ son and Leto’s, Apollo, who in anger at the king drove
the foul pestilence along the host, and the people perished,
since Atreus’ son had dishonoured Chryses, priest of Apollo,
when he came beside the fast ships of the Achaians to ransom
back his daughter, carrying gifts beyond count and holding
in his hands wound on a staff of gold the ribbons of Apollo
who strikes from afar, and supplicated all the Achaians,
but above all Atreus’ two sons, the marshals of the people:
‘Sons of Atreus and you other strong-greaved Achaians,
to you may the gods grant who have their homes on Olympos
Priam’s city to be plundered and a fair homecoming thereafter,
but may you give me back my own daughter and take the ransom,
giving honour to Zeus’ son who strikes from afar, Apollo.’
Then all the rest of the Achaians cried out in favour
that the priest be respected and the shining ransom be taken:
yet this pleased not the heart of Atreus’ son Agamemnon,
but harshly he drove him away with a strong order upon him:
‘Never let me find you again, old sir, near our hollow
ships, neither lingering now nor coming again hereafter,
for fear your staff and the god’s ribbons help you no longer.
The girl I will not give back; sooner will old age come upon her
in my own house, in Argos, far from her own land, going
up and down by the loom and being in my bed as my companion.
So go now, do not make me angry; so you will be safer.’
So he spoke, and the old man in terror obeyed him
and went silently away beside the murmuring sea beach.
"The Panther"
By Rainer Maria Rilke
(Tr. Stephen Mitchell)
His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars, and behind the bars, no world.
As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.
Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tense, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.
From the HOLY SONNETS.
By John Donne
X.
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so ;
For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy picture[s] be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou'rt slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke ; why swell'st thou then ?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
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