Don't You Wonder Sometimes Bout Sound and Vision?

I came across an old Rolling Stone interview this week from 1974, where William S. Burroughs interviews David Bowie. I’m actually surprised I’ve never seen it before, with such an odd yet amazingly appropriate meeting of creative minds.

My brother is more into the beat writers than myself, though I have read Burroughs and Kerouac and the like. I’ve always enjoyed what I have read; the writing is brutally frank and the style terribly liberating. But I’ve never idolized them the way many people do. In truth, I’ve been on a bit of a Bowie kick lately, and my interest in reading the article was to see what he (the true recipient of a little of my idolization) had to say. Because despite Lodger and Low being on a constant loop on my iPod this week, there are times I actually prefer listening to Bowie talk about his music and the process then I do actually listening to it.

(Ok, that’s a flat lie, but needless to say the man is witty. He gives a great interview.)

If you have any interest in either man (or even if you don’t) I highly recommend reading it. Burroughs is older, caustically dry in humor and a little embittered; Bowie is younger with a bit of youthful arrogance sprinkled with his natural tendency for charm and theatrics. There’s actually an amazing chemistry to it - the two men seem to really connect and then feed off each other’s energy. It’s less an interview and more like being witness to a really great conversation.

And while perusing the conversation, they made mention of the cut-up technique. I then vaguely remembered that Burroughs popularized the literary technique, and that Bowie used the method for writing some of his lyrics, and songs on albums like Hunky Dory and Diamond Dogs comes to mind.

But the thought made me giggle.

The cut-up technique, or cutting up text or texts, throwing them into a fishbowl, and then drawing them out, makes me think of every creative writing class I’ve taken in my life. And there have been quite a few. One specific poetry class my senior year sticks out clearly in my mind, but not for particularly good reasons. I laugh because the result of the technique was usually horrendous and, to me, always seemed artsy for the sake of being artsy.

But in a wave of nostalgia, I tried my hand once again at the cut-up technique. The outcome will never see the light of day. I laugh uncontrollably every time I read over the horrible self-indulgence.

The Third Mind or Life on Mars? it is not.

So I think it's well established I’m not a beat poet. But I think I already knew this, because unlike my brother, I don’t want to seclude myself in a cabin in Muir Woods and write. I’m perfectly happy secluding myself in my tiny apartment in Nagoya to much the same effect.

But if you want to read a truly fascinating exchange, click the link below. The nostalgia alone might make it worth it.

http://www.teenagewildlife.com/Appearances/Press/1974/0228/rsinterview/