Boog City presents
d.a. levy lives: celebrating the renegade press
Tues. Oct. 28, 6:00 p.m. sharp, free
529 W. 20th St., 5th Flr.
Event will be hosted by
Subpress co-editor Greg Fuchs
the work of Steve Carey
the work of Brett Evans
with music from
I Feel Tractor
There will be wine, cheese, and crackers, too.
Curated and with an introduction
by Boog City editor David Kirschenbaum
“Subpress popped off a Listserv one day and began to take shape and grow in another Listserv, specially created for it. That is, in the course of casual griping about how no one could get their book published, or about fellow poets growing weary while watching their manuscripts age, suggestions were made that we publish books ourselves. The discussion evolved quickly into process and finances.
“At the moment Subpress is a dozen poets spread across the US, France and England. Our communication is, and always has been, conducted by email. I have never met some of my fellow-editors in person.
“We began by agreeing to contribute our own money to a bank account. Everyone threw in one percent of their gross annual income. The disparity was wide but people agreed it was fair. We figured we had enough money to publish a certain amount of books per year. Because that number was less than the number of editors (18 editors at that time) we agreed to spread out our first publishing round over three years.
“Each editor was allotted equal funds to edit, design, and produce one book in that first cycle. Editors with different skills for typesetting, designing, etc., volunteered their time to help when help was asked for. There were no editorial requirements or standards for choosing a book. There was no vote or veto process for whatever title an editor brought to press. There were no limitations on design or print specifications except those created by one's budget.”—Dan Bouchard
Subpress co-editor Anselm Berrigan will present work by poet Steve Carey, whose book Berrigan and his brother Edmund are editing for Subpress.
“Steve's books are very hard to find, but include The California Papers (United Artists), Gentle Subsidy (Big Sky), Smith Going Backwards (Cranium Press), and 20 Poems. Alice Notley's book of essays Coming After contains a memoir/essay on Steve, and the Up Late anthology edited by Andrei Codrescu has, I believe, a few of his poems. Steve's poetry is hard to describe, but I want to say, and so will, that a title like Gentle Subsidy in and of itself gives a sense of his predilection, one of several at least, for word combinations—a really delicate consonant balance, if such a thing makes sense. And a great sense of humor, love of song (he was a drummer and could play guitar) and companionship, and weirdness (of a mostly non-threatening kind, but you’d have to figure that out yourself). He was like this huge guy who wouldn't harm a soul, with a deep voice and ability to loom. Bob Newhart and Jimi Hendrix and Philip Whalen. His dad is Harry Carey Jr., the actor in many of John Ford's films, and so Steve was a Cali kid from the 1950s who spent time in New York in the 1960s a bit then moved to NYC permanently in the late 1970s. Brother of poet Tom Carey. Steve died in 1989.” —Anselm Berrigan
Greg Fuchs will present work by Brett Evans, professor of English at Delgado Community College in New Orleans, and author of Subpress’ After School Session, edited by Fuchs.
“After School Session is a generous and brassy cull of correspondence from Brett Evans to Buck Downs. The poems are a direct jack into the miniamp of postcard art sent between two friends; they hit hard in an open-all-night punk rock show for the audience of one. Like the form of Kerouac's Mexico City Blues, limited by the small size of a breastpocket notebook, Evans's gumbo is cooked in the scant pot of the postcard--an "afterschool rest stop of the imagination / real special." The poems offer one slamming and damming notation after another. Down's artful arrangement and selection should stand as a model for what one can do with our hazardous mail.” —Tom Devaney
**I Feel Tractor
I Feel Tractor is available to you with musings of space folk and cut ups. I Feel Tractor has a self-titled 7” from the Loudmouth Collective, and a CD, Once I Had an Earthquake, from Goodbye Better.
Denize Lauture, first born of 13 peasant children, migrated to the U.S. from Haiti in 1968. He is a professor of French and Spanish at St Thomas Aquinas College in Sparkill and lives in the Bronx. Lauture writes in Creole, English, and French. He is the author of Blues of the Lightning Metamorphosis, Father and Son, Running the Road to ABC, Mothers and Daughters, The Curse of the Poet, When the Denizen Weeps, and Subpress’ The Black Warrior and Other Poems, edited by Fuchs
“Put aside your preconceived notions of a chamber-instrument ensemble. Neither aloof nor pretentious, Providence's My Invisible maintains a punk-rock subversiveness while gleefully coloring outside the lines of genre limitations. They're wry changelings, equally at home crafting waltz-time laments as they are writing off-the-cuff paeans to their favorite Detroit Piston. They even have their own cheer.
“Fittingly, its easier to define them by what they aren’t than by what they are, given that their very name evokes a kind-of absence by design. Neither drawing-room prim or Gothic kitsch (see: Rasputina), their music although not rock by any stretch flirts with the same quiet/loud dichotomy first patented by the Pixies, and to equally stirring effect. Exploiting negative as well as positive space, the band shapes gripping music, sometimes out of thin air.
“You can hear it on their self-released debut, My Invisible, but its even more pronounced during their vibrant live show, in which the blend of cello, violin, guitar, Roxy (an antique instrument), pick-up percussion, and intricate harmonies intertwine to create something that’s hard to pin down. Searching for influences, one hears echoes of the Slits percussive, ramshackle humor, of This Heats haunting complexity, of Dirty Threes sun-drenched expansiveness. And if that sounds complicated, embodying all sorts of seemingly contradictory impulses is part of My Invisible’s considerable charm..." —Andrea Feldman, The Phoenix
Directions: C/E to 23rd St., 1/9 to 18th St.
Venue is bet. 10th and 11th avenues