Spotted by recovering Slugaholic Susan. He might have been touring Ireland with ‘3-car-garage rock band’ Rackett this summer, but Northern Irish poet Paul Muldoon won’t be giving up the day job at Princeton. In fact, as the New York Times reports, he’s taking on another one, as the new poetry editor of The New Yorker. And as Susan points out in the comments zone [Welcome back, susan! – Ed], the rival New York magazine’s Vulture blog “don’t know jack about Muldoon” More below the fold And moreThanks again to susan for this clip of Paul Muldoon, bringing together the two strands of the post title. For the benefit of those who “don’t know jack about Muldoon”.
Adds Susan returns to provide yet another link
ON stage, he looks like a middle-aged Irish poet, bespectacled, dressed in the same rumpled suit he teaches in. He is not a great musician and still can play only seven chords (which is four more than you need, he points out). But to succeed at anything is just so unlikely in the first place. Why should the fact that he’s 53 and a musical neophyte make watching his band rock out on stage any more bizarre for me? Why should I be so surprised by the possibility of being surprised?
And what better excuse for the late, great, Warren Zevon.. Enjoy!
I saw Lon Chaney walking with the Queen..