52nd City

Shaking Down Thunder in the Electric Church

The first time I saw Curtis Lyle read poetry, it was in the Contemporary, with David AL Jackson accompanying him on percussion. If you think it’s easy to read in a large, cement space like that (a little bit Bulgarian, a little bit cave-like) think again! I have read in that space. The sound bounces everywhere. You really have to wrestle it down, like Jacob with the angel, or you might as well be reciting your poems into the nozzle of a vacuum cleaner attachment in the privacy of your own home. Curtis was a downright mythological presence that night, and I say that without fear of being heavy-handed, because that’s just how it was. He was reading to launch the publication of his book, Electric Church, which is a power-packed little volume. As Will Alexander observes in the introduction: “His poems partake of both the telluric and the stellar—images erupt in the form of an interior code, rhythms are aboriginal, powers partake of ferocious lingual audacity. A philosophical threading blended with subversive humor.”

Two friends in the audience that night—friends who were forced by me to attend, who don’t really like poetry—admitted they were stunned. That they are glad they went.

So take that to heart. You have a chance to see Curtis read this Thursday at the Tap Room as part of Aaron Belz's also stellar Readings @ Series, on a double-bill with Marcellus Leonard. Now, if I’d ever heard Marcellus read, I am sure I would be able to peck out a rapturous paragraph on his work as well (so I’m looking forward to hearing him read). I know Dr. Leonard is driving up from Springfield, where he teaches at the University. He has a book called Shake the Thunder Down, and reads with jazz musicians often. This is a clue for me; having read with musicians, and not very successfully I might add, I know that it's really hard to pull off. So I know that he's got big-time poetic chops, a grasp of the craft of it all, the meter and syllabics; he knows without thinking that poetry is just music without the music. Which means he and Curtis will complement each other really well.

Although drinking microbrewed beer at a poetry reading ceased to be a novelty in the 90s when the Slam movement took hold, I still posit that it’s tough to find many venues where you can hear lyrical, Surreal poetry while drinking beer. All the more reason to go.

So break out your Palm Pilots or your ragged notebooks or write it on your arm with indelible pen if you must: K. Curtis Lyle and Marcellus Leonard this Thursday at 8 p.m. at the Schlafly Tap Room, 2100 Locust, upstairs in the Club Room. Huzzah! And while you're practicing those good time-management skills: bookmark the Readings @ page. You will be glad you did, I promise.