Showing posts with label spoken word. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spoken word. Show all posts

Thursday, April 30, 2026

Oldboy - New Poetry Album OUT NOW!

Spring is here, and a young man’s fancy turns to poetry, indie poetry, punk poetry slam, darkwave poetry, a dying rose by any other name and all that. Two years after my last audiobook I’m here with the new opus, Oldboy. And as Sir Humphrey Pengallan (Charles Laughton) defiantly sneers, “What are you waiting for? A spectacle? You shall have it!!!” So polish up your spectacles, Andy Seven Ltd. has returned.

Oldboy is my fourth audiobook of poetry, fifteen prose poems that up the ante from previous efforts. While past audiobooks featured poems with more traditional soundscapes, the new work features dark ambient, industrial neofolk mixes and drum and bass rhythm tracks.

All music mixes aside, Oldboy is a wild mosaic of sonnets dedicated to horror films (Sadako, Succubus), Robert Williams-inspired sports sleaze (Demolition Derby, Bantamweight Vs. Flyweight), and a triptych of Southern California gothic (Bougainvillea, California Boyfriend, The LA River).

The title, aside from the movie, comes from my theory that some males are men from the day they were born and always remain men, while others will always be boys, even when they’re pushing their Seventies. Some boys always inhabit an adult form. The same goes for females. Some women will always be young girls no matter how old they age.

Making the transition from punk singing to poetry recital wasn’t a Herculean task. When I sang with my band Trash Can School the most common remark I heard was that my vocals were “monotonous”. Whether I was aware of it or not, the monotony of my vocals probably meant that I chose to recite my lyrics as poetry.

I could make a case for it by saying that singing was never the objective but just reciting my prose. So, in a very loose sense I’ve always performed poetry recitals back in the days of my band and I’ve continued to this day.

Islington High Street was about my all-nighter at Islington Screen on The Green spent fifty years ago watching The Sex Pistols, Buzzcocks and other future superstars like Billy Idol and Siouxsie Sioux. Slumgullion is a piss-take on Willy the Shake’s classic plays, some of my favorites. I love the surrealism of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Saints and Sinners was about a real saloon in the heart of sleepy Culver City. Transfigured Night is my surreal take on a dream where I walked through a forest accompanied by mutilated lab test animals. The dream world continues with Succubus, nocturnal eroticism let loose upon the bedroom walls.

Those expecting sermons from the mount taking a political stand will be disappointed, as the only track that shows a political angle at all would be Carrot in The Donkey’s Eye, which criticizes the punishing exploitation of the average worker, the most offensive culprit being factory and warehouse environments. I suppose Smog lies somewhere in social commentary, too.

While I’m on the subject of poetry, what are your favorite movies about poets? We don’t get a lot of cinema space, I see movies about Bukowski, Kerouac, Sylvia Plath, but I’d like to see a film about Anne Sexton or Rod McKuen. Rod McKuen was an awful poet but his life story is utterly fascinating.

My favorite movie about a poet is Orpheus by Jean Cocteau about a popular poet despised by the hipster cognoscenti because his work is too successful. His best friend is a poet so jaded with writing that his next book will be a volume of nothing but empty pages. Doesn't get more existential than that!

But back to Oldboy, ahem: Some poems have been published in the past, i.e. Bantamweight Vs. Flyweight, Succubus, and California Boyfriend were featured in Horror Sleaze Trash. Other poems like Slumgullion, Transfigured Night, and Sadako were included in several Dawn of Darkness witch house compilations, available for listening at The Internet Archive.

Oldboy can be streamed on You Tube, Spotify, Pandora, Apple Music, Amazon Music, or Deezer. Hard media CDs can be purchased at Bandcamp. I’ll merch a few on eBay, too. Friends, Hollywood Babylonians, and countrymen, lend me your ears.

Saturday, March 23, 2024

Scorpio Rising poetry album OUT NOW

Spring is here, and a young man’s fancy turns to poetry, whether it be in the form of a chapbook or a full-blown poetry album, like my new release Scorpio Rising. Named after the Kenneth Anger film (as well as dedicated to his memory), Scorpio Rising is my third poetry release and is out now for your listening pleasure.

The themes on the album run the gamut from inner city ghetto stories (Killed For His Clothes, Skyscraper Soul, Sidewalk Camp) to the occult (Bottle Tree Garden, Smudge, Sun In Scorpio) to my favorite standby, noir (Drugs And The Woman, High Speed Chase, Cocktails Cigarettes Birth Control). Yes, the femmes fatales get their due…and then some.

My noir poems continue the thread started from my previously published noir novels, these tracks can even be heard as tiny noir plot outlines.

The occult poetry is influenced by my long-lived fascination with Hollywood jazz age gothic dalliances in cults, rituals, and fetish items. Many remaining art deco homes in Pasadena and the Hollywood Hills still court the legend of being haunted by spirits. Even The Angelus Temple, a Christian showplace for Aimee Semple McPherson is known for harboring its share of ghosts.

What distinguishes this release from the others is the introduction of the Irish bouzouki on several tracks, it being a folk instrument normally used as backup accompaniment to guitars, but here used as a lead instrument.

It’s an instrument with four sets of double strings like a mandolin and tuned to a G-D-A-D, not the accustomed G-D-A-E setting. Because of this tuning one gets a droney, exotic Eastern sound. I call the tuning Gee, Dad…hoho.

I also went for a bit of drum and bass/jungle music rhythm on Cockfight and to a lesser degree on High Speed Chase, charging up the BPMs (Beats Per Minute) into the 275-300 setting, giving both tracks a manic, frantic pace to match my prose.

Here is the track listing:
1. Dogs Keep Barking
2. Killed For His Clothes
3. Skyscraper Soul
4. Cockfight
5. Drugs And The Woman
6. Cocktails Cigarettes Birth Control
7. Smudge
8. The Butcher’s Beautiful Daughter
9. Sidewalk Camp
10. Bottle Tree Garden
11. Angel Feathers
12. Sun In Scorpio
13. High Speed Chase

As usual there’s the dichotomy between electronic and folk music tracks, and in neofolk style they even converge more than a few times. If you like Current 93 or Death In June then this will strike a familiar vibe.

I’m very proud of my new collection of sonnets – sonic sonnets, if you will. Scorpio Rising is highly accessible in CD, download or streaming formats. If you want the CD it can be bought at CD Baby, Discogs, Amazon, or you can DM me for a personal copy.

Downloads can be bought at Apple Music or Amazon Music, where they can also be streamed. If you’d rather hear streams you can check it out at You Tube, Spotify, Pandora, or Deezer, where you can also stream my previous albums, Minstrels Anonymous and Sea Level Drive.

Saturday, July 1, 2023

Going Global

I have, for all intents and purposes, gone global. What does this mean? Well, I made a distribution deal where my poetry albums Minstrels Anonymous and Sea Level Drive can now be streamed all over the world on every streaming service imaginable: roll call, Spotify, Pandora, You Tube, Apple Music, Amazon Music, Deezer, and even the dreaded Tik Tok, home of the anime nymphets. Don’t see them shaking it to Halloween Birthday, but I’ve been wrong before.

In addition, both hard media CDs are now issued on my imprint Jinx Records in lavish glossy Digipak editions, which can be bought either on Amazon, CD Baby or on eBay. Copies can also be purchased at a reduced price if you DM me and pay via Paypal or Venmo funds. What this means is that neither record will be streamed on SoundCloud or available for purchase via Bandcamp.

In other news I’m hard at work on the next album, tentatively scheduled for November release. I’ve also pondered the possibility of doing a few spoken word shows. Needless to say, records will be available there. And sooner or later, probably later, I will finally complete my new novel. Dammit.

Wednesday, December 7, 2022

Sidewalk Camp

This was a poem I wrote in response to political candidates using the homeless as a scapegoat in their pursuit of wininng votes. As someone who was once homeless himself I wanted to say something about this.

By the way, if you like what you hear please follow me on SoundCloud.

Friday, October 28, 2022

Sea Level Drive Spoken Word Album Available Now

Halloween 2022 marks the release of my second album Sea Level Drive. A definite labor of love, it’s my continued foray into spoken word recordings with soundscapes created by me and helped with by my two friends, Sad Boy and Robodyke.

Tracks from Sea Level Drive can be listened to on HearNow (andysevenltd.hearnow.com) and a few will remain on SoundCloud (Soundcloud.com/andysevenltd), too.

Not only do you get to hear me read my own poetry but I also read two pieces by the legendary Maxwell Bodenheim, Death and The Ballad of Jack Rose. Let’s go straight to the beginning and talk about the album:

Sea Level Drive begins with Ghosts of Hustlers, an abandoned gay horror novel I started years ago about a young man moving into an apartment off the Sunset Strip where his evenings are haunted by ghosts of murdered young runaways. It wasn’t bad but concepts are hard to sustain over 160 pages. I made it a poem instead. That wah-wah sound you hear is a trumpet, not a guitar. Too much!

Velvet Candybar comes next and I went for a sweet English melody while chanting about making love in a graveyard. The goth boy can’t help it!

The Hardcore Kid is my poem about the hooligan who refuses to give up the hardcore ghost long after the riot’s ended. “He tied a rag around his boot, spare changes for his loot, still lamenting the dead of Sid, he’s The Hardcore Kid.” The legendary 1-2-3-4 countdown runs the gamut from Johnny Thunders, Wilson Pickett, Little Richard, and Sir Paul McCartney.

Disc Over America (DOA) is a political song about murder in the name of church and state. This country feels more and more like a drug store that’s quickly going out of business.

Sea Level Drive finishes the first half of the album. It’s a small road on the extreme end of Malibu right after you pass Zuma and before you enter Ventura County. You could say it’s technically the very end of Malibu. It’s right by Lechuza Beach, which might be the narrowest beach in Malibu. It’s a poem about a couple strung out on drugs who have nothing but the ocean singing for them at night.

The second half of the album begins with Teethgrinder, a poem about the tension, anger and anxiety pouring out on the internet from all sides. People are angrier than ever, exhibiting not a single note of sensitivity or sympathy for each other. Savaging one another for the sake of winning a worthless argument, and most arguments are worthless in the long run. Everybody’s wrong.

The Ballad of Jack Rose by Maxwell Bodenheim features my Ibanez electric mandolin with a strong delay on my voice. It’s a pretty intense poem about a drug dealer who falls in love with an addict’s sister. This poem reminded me of The Panic In Needle Park and some Hubert Selby prose, too.

All The Madwomen is based on the Sam Fuller film Shock Corridor, specifically the scene where Peter Breck wanders into the nympho ward of the insane asylum he’s committed in. Naturally there are soundbites from the film floating all through the track. The original poem appeared in Horror Sleaze Trash Quarterly.

Sometimes people ask me why there's no guitar on my records, and it's like this: once I saw Allen Ginsberg on a TV show reciting his poetry backed by a punk band, and in theory it should have been awesome, but it was horrible. Poor old Ginsberg read his poetry with all his heart and this band behind him were playing so loud, especially this douchebag guitarist cranked so loud like he was Shitface Ramone and ripping out a solo while Grandpa Beat was trying valiantly to have his prose heard. A real shitshow, but lessons learned. Leave the fucking guitar in the corner, preferably in the garbage bin.

In Bed With The Bomb is about the early days of the atomic bomb, its development and testing. “I’m in bed with the bomb, I’m about to kingdom come, Drop it now! Stop it, how? Duck and cover, my atomic lover”. I enjoyed adding the “Andy, are you okay?” soundbite from Happiness.

Oh, My Love Is Like A Rose is a small abstract piano frisson with some sped-up saxophone and trumpet tracks for the Frank Zappa fans. That sound never gets old.

Death by Maxwell Bodenheim is the first Bodenheim poem I ever read, and I was immediately hooked. Goth to the max with its reference to Death’s longing for me and silver braids of hair, well...I laid down some backwards synthesizer for extra death texture. I also made a video of it, which you can see here.

So that’s my new album, Sea Level Drive. Give it a listen on Spotify, Pandora, Amazon Music, Apple Music or your favorite streaming sevice. If you’re going to listen to poetry/spoken word give it some electronic skronk with some free jazz horns and some lovely mandolin-driven folk to boot.

The tracks:
Ghosts of Hustlers
Velvet Candybar
The Hardcore Kid
On Her Bed of Roses
Disc Over America (DOA)
Sea Level Drive
Teethgrinder
The Ballad of Jack Rose
All The Madwomen
In Bed With The Bomb
Oh My Love Is Like A Rose
Death

Sea Level Drive is available for download or CD format via Bandcamp.com at https://andysevenltd.bandcamp.com/album/sea-level-drive. Meet me there.

Thursday, June 17, 2021

The Heartbreak Playlist

Well, there she goes again…another song about me…how I broke her heart…the story she never gets tired of telling…just think, she’ll be singing this song about my cruelty all over the country, all over the world…hey, Dallas, I broke someone’s heart…hey, Baltimore, I broke someone’s heart…today her heart, tomorrow Tokyo…then there’s the other one…she wrote that one about me lying to her…my love was lies…so she said…all the girls in the club cry along with her…that’s me, chrome-hearted Romeo…Chromeo…your heartbreak is filthy lucre…selling millions of units, didn’t you…talking about my cold, cold heart…you cashed in with your broken heart…other fellas moved in but I was song-worthy, yeah?...here’s another one about that prick who lied…he lied…I died…thank you, for my next number this one’s about that asshole again…you’re too kind…back stage all the new boyfriends get pulled like little marionettes…while I recline in my leather loveseat…the cad clad in black…I’ve never done good things…I’ve never done bad things…I’ve never done anything out of the blue…

Cockroach Shoes

See me walkin’
pair of cockroach shoes
brown crinkled leather
long antennae kicks

When I walk
it makes sounds
castanets cast a net
christ Annette

La cucarachas
clicking down the concrete
the pavement ‘n apartments hear
cockroach shoes

‘N christ Annette
castanets
clicking clicking
christ it’s sickening

Friday, January 15, 2021

Minstrels Anonymous Spoken Word Album Available Now on Bandcamp

Today marks the release of my first full-length spoken word CD, Minstrels Anonymous. Tracks can be bought individually for download, or it can be purchased as a CD On Demand. There will be no vinyl or cassette releases (I can't believe people are making and buying cassettes again, but whatever!).

Minstrels Anonymous is my first solo album after several decades of making noise in the trashed-out back alleys of Hollywood. Years spent haunting clubs like The Masque, The Roxy Theater, The Gaslight, The Shamrock, The Hollywood Palladium, The Whiskey A Go-Go, and a million dead ballrooms.

After years of playing ear-splitting noise punk I've settled down to playing neofolk music on my mandolin and free jazz on my pocket trumpet and tenor saxophone. Neofolk is folk music with heavy goth and industrial influences, artists like Death In June, Emily Jane White and David Eugene Edwards, formerly of 16 Horsepower and now Wovenhand, just to name a few.

What prompted a writer who swore off a music career into making a spoken word record? When the pandemic hit and I went into lockdown I released a long-shelved novel, Red Coffee, and then proceeded to work on my poetry compilation, Year Of The Bat.

After editing, re-editing and rewriting Year of The Bat to my satisfaction I sent it off to the DIY publishing house for formatting. What they sent back was a nightmare.

It looked like a drunk five-year old got ahold of the manuscript and formatted the whole thing. Titles in tiny font running into the opening lines of the poem, pages not aligned properly, fonts changing up and down for no rhyme or reason - and not bad enough to even be deemed avant garde, for Christ's sake! It was like they hated the whole project and threw it back in my face.

After a week of nagging me constantly DO YOU APPROVE? PLEASE APPROVE? and then the annoying TELL US HOW WE DID begging, I sent back a message saying KILL IT and I WANT A REFUND.

Instead of crying in my beer about the savaging of my poetry book, I sat in front of my synthesizer. Then I played with my drum machine. Then I turned on my mp3 player in dictation mode and started reading these very same poems. I've since bought a Tascam 4-track recorder, but the earlier recordings have a weird metallic vocal sound to them. That's the mp3 player.

The first recording was Hollywood Is Killing Me, which I posted on SoundCloud. Ideas for new recordings started pouring out of my brain like a leaky faucet. I made the most of my lockdown by staying in and recording constantly, until the album you're holding represents the majority of my aural output for 2020.

As spoken word artists go, my main influences are monologists like Joe Frank, Ken Nordine, Lord Buckley, and the great Gary McFarlane. The Kenneth Patchen album with the Canadian Jazz Quartet was also a major influence on my album.

I made every effort to make each and every track sound unique and separate from each other to avoid any kind of monotony, which can often mar many spoken word recordings. Some tracks have folk backing. whereas others are heavily influenced by early Seventies electronic artists like Ruth White, Delia Derbyshire's White Noise, and Jean-Jacques Perrey.

Track listing:

1. PKW
2. Hollywood Is Killing Me
3. Stainless Steel Trees
4. Disney Superstar
5. The Scenester
6. Tomboys
7. Nerdy Girl
8. Rorer 714
9. Power Trio
10. Dreams That Money Can Buy
11. Action Painter
12. Suburban Adam & Eve
13. Halloween Birthday

Minstrels Anonymous is available for download or CD format via Bandcamp.com. You can find it at: https://andysevenltd.bandcamp.com/album/minstrels-anonymous

Newer tracks can be heard at: Soundcloud.com/andysevenltd

Thursday, November 26, 2020

Dreams That Money Can Buy

Dreams That Money Can Buy - Andy Seven Ltd

Thin emaciated petite
and pale blonde
she had the gift of grift
deaf mute picking pockets

Shoplift shuffles
watched by 69 eyes
circuito cerrado
like an electric fly
like a hydra
the larcenous Medusa
weaving through aisles at all the busy shop floors
drifting and floating her way out revolving doors

Hitting up subway trains
a restless madame
shifting fingers
which never linger
restless grabbing claws
without a pause

Jamming the aisles
are oceans of crowded men
she’s sacrificing herself
for a fondle or ten
as she grabs wallets and watches
and scattered foreign swatches

Handbags with trapdoors
passageways in her purse
the take on her bed
the harpy’s nest
Irish coffee and a smoke
as she kicks off
her high heels
she flies again in the urban dawn

Copyright 2020, Scuzzbuster Music (BMI). All rights reserved. From the album Minstrels Anonymous, available on Bandcamp.

Saturday, November 14, 2020

Power Trio

Power Trio

Three guys walk into a bank
wearing cheap plastic rock star masks
there was Elvis, Gene Simmons and Ringo Starr
customers stood in line and
laughed at them

It was the day after Halloween
month end deposits
rent payments
welfare checks

Elvis swiveled his hips and flashed
white hot lead
shot the underpaid security guard dead

Well the laughter all stopped
and everybody dropped
Elvis covered the tellers
Gene Simmons swagged the merchants on the floor
while Ringo watched the door

Elvis shucked “thankyouvurrymuch”
Gene told everyone they should be honored he’s robbing them
and Ringo nervously tapped his feet

A few beats later you could hear a siren wailing
backbeat later a tear gas canister came crashing and sailing
Elvis moaned, “We’re caught in a trap,
we can’t walk out”

Shot Gene Simmons in the face and
his tongue flew off
then he shot Ringo in the neck
ever run riverrrun jugular fountain
then he put the gun in his mouth pulled the trigger
and went down to the edge of Lonely Street

Copyright 2020, Scuzzbuster Music (BMI). All rights reserved.

From the album Minstrels Anonymous, now available on Bandcamp

Friday, October 30, 2020

A Boy And His Lute

Since my birthday falls this Saturday (the 31st) I decided to treat myself to a cool birthday present, namely a video of my recent poem The Scenester. Because I accoimpany myself on mandolin I used a lot of photos of myself playing the instrument at home and at play. I edited most of it on an ancient Corel movie software. I encourage all writers out there to record themselves and film themselves as often as possible. Anyway, enjoy at your own peril :)

Friday, October 2, 2020

Stainless Steel Trees

STAINLESS STEEL TREES

I am cool, polished marble
i lie under stainless steel trees
around a lush green velvet lawn

Chameleons change to survive
changing to survive
too many destroying flesh
killing flesh
burning skin
and flesh
and bone
and hair

Change to survive
no more skin
no more flesh
no mare bone

So muuch killing
means nothing will ever
be the same

Change to survive
want to stay alive
like a chameleon
like a Rodin like a Henry Moore like a Michelangelo

I am cool, polished marble
smooth to the touch
frozen to the ends of time
with my stainless steel trees

Painting - The Big Game by Bernard Buffet.

Friday, September 18, 2020

The Scenester

The SCENESTER

A waterfall of ink black hair
spilling out of my painted skull
like a curtain about to open
over my face for the horror show

where do all the wild boys go

Big long restless hands like
bear paws falcon claws
punching writing washing playing
feminine lips trying to follow what I’m saying

Brown eyes turn to blue
like a crumbling lighthouse
with the light slowly dimming
eardrums smashed from too many nightclubs
like a deaf tom cat

closed captioned for the hearing impaired

Wide hips composed by my mother
shake it to industrial bands
endlessly running legs
endlessly tired legs
dance to the beat

let’s go back to the big long hands

*************

So in addition to recording this poem I thought it was time to get some of my mandolin in on the action. My playing is a little rough and the editing is even rougher, but it's okay. After this lockdown is over, I'm going to head over to a decent recording studio and engage in some decent overdubs. Should be good.

The echo on my voice was largely inspired by vintage country records, where the narrator talks about how he's serving time in prison for killing a man who took his beloved, forcing him to do the unthinkable. I love those records, and as long as I was doing a weird self-pitying narration here was my golden opportunity.

PM junk

him: Hey!!
me: hi
him: So, what’s going on?
me: nothing, what’s up?
him: I’ve been checking you out. You’re all kinds of fine. So, what’s going on? May I ask you personal question?
me: um, well…
him: Are you trans?
me: what?
him: Are you trans? Coz, you no, you’re like a hot chick but you have dude’s name.
me: I’m not trans, I’m me.
him: Are you trap? I’m from Pakistan. It’s a long way from you. So, are you trap?
me: no, I’m a boy.
him: I could make you feel like a woman. I have beautiful gray beard. Did I offend you? Are you trans?
me: what?
him: You look like a pretty girl. Do you like violent sex?
me: oh….you’re from Pakistan. I’ll bet the heroin there is totally pure. send me a few bags…Hazan, is that your name? send me a couple of balloons, Hazan.
him: No, I want to have sex with you, pretty girl.
me: sex is nothing, heroin is everything. send me your desert drugs.
him: You’re just a dirty drug addict! You’re filth! You disgust me, Trans! I spit on you, you ugly witch whore!
me: ah…so how about those balloons Hazan?
NO REPLY
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