ANDY CLAUSEN
PRESIDENT AT HOME OF THE BLUES: INTERVIEW BY MICHAEL LIMNIOS
Andy Clausen
was born Andre Laloux in a Belgian bomb shelter in
1943. He was raised in Oakland, California. USA. After graduating from high
school, he became a Golden Gloves boxer and, for a brief time, joined the
Marines, which he left in 1966 after watching Allen Ginsberg on TV read his
anti-Vietnam War poem, "Wichita Vortex Sutra." After Andy began
devoting himself to writing, Allen Ginsberg would consistently cite him as one
of the most important poets of the next generation. An ex-marine, he is the
author of 14 books of poetry, including 40th Century Man: Selected Verse
1996-1966 (1997), Without Doubt (1991, introduction by Allen Ginsberg) and
was coeditor of Poems for the Nation
(2000), a collection of contemporary political poems compiled by the late poet
Allen Ginsberg. In 1968, he signalled the intensity of his energetic spoken word
recital for which he would become known and would affect the generation of
latter-day beats as well as many writers of Generation X when he performed
naked save for an American flag tie at the Conference Of Small Magazine Editors
and Publishers in Berkeley. The following month, when Allen Ginsberg caught a
glimpse of Clausen at the Rolling Renaissance readings in San Francisco, he
thought he was seeing the young Neal Cassady. Allen
Ginsberg not only called him the "Future of American Poetry" but in the introduction to Without Doubt, said he would take a chance on a
"President Clausen." Clausen has
taught at Naropa University and given readings and
lectures at many universities, prisons, poetry conferences, and cafes at home
and around the world. He has worked for poetry in the schools agencies in
California, New Jersey, Colorado and New York. He is presently working on
memoirs of his friendship and adventures with Allen Ginsberg, Gregory Corso and many others of the Beat Generation. Home of the
Blues (2013), Andy's second volume of
selected poems following 40th Century Man, covers over five decades of his prolific work: from the
counterculture and antiwar years of the 1960s right up to the years of
progressive promise and frequent disappointment following the historic election
of America’s first black president, Barack Obama.
Michael Limnios: Since 60s – what has changed towards the
best – for our civilization and culture and what has gone wrong?
Andy Clausen: In the USA, at least, women have
more opportunity and say over their bodies and destinies. But as we know,
freedom begets more thirst for it. We realize that traditional economic, social
and religious injustice towards women has not been eradicated. Racial
intermingling has brought friendship and music, dance and language, yet wars,
minute and macro, are fought over race, religion and money.
I think that the widespread use of cannabis has
been mostly beneficial. It’s no longer the vogue to beat your wife and
children. Many more gay folk are out in the open and proud. Psychedelics were
the door into the minds that created the computer
universe. People became conscious of pollution, of the benefits of organic
foods, of religions and philosophies foreign to Middle America. There was a
treasuring of the environment.
Yet in all the gains I’ve mentioned, there are
conflicts of drastic consequence at this very moment.
Why? I can speculate. Economics can change one’s ethics, dampen Idealism.
The battle is materialism vs. spirit. We’ve all had to compromise to live in
this world. The culture of the Sixties was unifying, inclusive, welcoming. This
has devolved into exclusionary self seekers claiming
to be “hipsters”.
ML: In
your opinion what was the reasons that made 60s to be
the center of the political and social conquests?
AC: The Sixties had the Beat Generation to build
on. Kerouac & Cassady, the adventurers, the
seeker-pilgrims, the new post-war energy, the spontaneous, Ginsberg, all
religions, political concern, militant gays, marijuana advocacy, gay pride,
compassion for the suffering of the world, Corso,
genius philosopher and eloquent goof, Snyder, Eastern religions, the
environment, Burroughs, the Way Out and Low Down.
The sixties had Acid. It had music, a music that
swept into every venue and style. A music that brought poetry
to the masses. An eclectic new literature.
The art world exploded. Electric colors. An openness of
sexuality. I don’t know about the Islamic world, but for better or
worse, the West is not going back to only allowing “one man, one wife, for
Life.”
This infusion of non-establishment-approved or-understood
culture into the mainstream was, as we say nowadays, viral. It was powerful.
There was this wave of Youth, tired, bored with the prevailing hypocrisy. Yet
materialism is resiliently strong and has slowly eaten away at the humanitarian
gains, till we have worship of mediocrity, like American Idol, for example.
ML: What
was the relation between music, poetry and activism? Can the Art confront the
“prison” of the spirit and mind?
AC: My friend, Eliot Katz believes there must be
institutions that organize and disseminate information, that they are primary
to social change. I think they are important, but from what I’ve seen, nothing
touches and changes minds and hearts like songs, poems, paintings, movies and
vibrations at gatherings. Many activists are also artists.
ML: What
first attracted you to the Beat poetry and how has changed your life?
AC: First, I read Kerouac’s Big Sur. I thought his alcohol come-down
was like an acid trip! Then I read Desolation
Angels and Seymour Krim (with whom I read many
years later) who in his Intro, revealed the real names of the characters. I
immediately bought Howl by Allen
Ginsberg, The Happy Birthday of Death
by Gregory Corso and Abomunist Manifesto by Bob Kaufman. I was hooked. I would get drunk and take
bennies and read “Howl” to my wide-eyed buddies. We’d
go to a graveyard and read Corso and laugh, spilling
our wine. I told my roommate that Beatnik poetry was the next big thing. It
would be bigger than baseball. He said that IBM had opened a school in Almaden and he was going to learn computers. I said it was
a waste of time. “What add and subtract? What’s it going to compute? Give me
some numbers and I’ll add them up.” I quoted Corso to
prove my point, “Penguin dust, bring me Penguin dust!” How did Beat poetry
change my life? Well, it became my primary concern. I care about it more than
anything, save love. I probably made a lot less money than I should have, but I
sure slept with some brilliant, beautiful women, that I’d never have had a
chance with otherwise. Ray Bremser would say “We’re
jazz & blues poets. We may not get paid, but we get laid.”
I gave up a lot to be a Beat poet, luxury, the
Marine Corps, a steady job, living in one place. But no, I would sure change
some things I regret, but I wouldn’t trade my experiences for a life of wealth
or brainwashed subservience
ML: What
characterize Andy Clause poetry? How do you describe Andy’s philosophy of life?
AC: Andy Clausen is a Free Thinker. The Andy
Clausen in Andy Clausen’s verse is a much better person than the carnal Andy
Clausen, who has been a victim of his flesh too often. He admires the
philosophies of Spinoza, Thomas Paine, Buddha, Jesus, Lao-Tse,
Peter Kropotkin, John Stuart Mill, H.G. Wells, Nikos
Kazantzakis. In general terms, he is for both individual freedom &
collective action. He believes that honest work should have honest pay and that
work and the resources of the world have to be re-valued. Too many people
garner the wealth of the world by doing nothing but manipulating that wealth. I
think that part of Capitalism has to be eliminated or greed will eat or starve
the planet. I am essentially a deist. Some thing or being might have created
all this but I do not believe our truck is with that deity, but with each
other. If I hurt you, I’m not sorry because I hurt God, but because I hurt you,
and therefore myself. I ask forgiveness of you and myself, not God. I love the
celebration, just not on the backs of others. My poetry is concerned with all
subjects. I tend to concentrate on the big ones. My main models have been Walt
Whitman, Vladimir Mayakovsky, Gregory Corso, Elana Guro,
Sergei Essenin, Allen Ginsberg, Jack Micheline, Diane di Prima, John
Donne, Nicanor Parra, Rimbaud and my contemporaries.
I would say my work is mostly Free Verse, some Zaum,
a pinch of surrealism, a dash of realism, the blues, jazz, folk, country, often
long pieces.
ML: Why
did you think that the Beat literary continued to generate such a devoted
following?
AC: People realize the Beat Generation was a
harbinger of vast cultural change. But I think it has a long life because most
of it was great, interesting, controversial, heart-felt, inventive,
intelligent, exalting ancient traditions. Inclusive, not
elitist.
ML: Do you
know why the Blues /Jazz are connected to the Beat culture & what
characterize the sound of Beat generation?
AC: At the time of the Beats, after the war
sanctioned racial intermingling, a joyous phase of jazz, be-bop, infused avant garde life with its wild rhythms and revolutionary
syntax. Be-bop and Beat inspired each other. The Blues fit thematically with
the eclectic Beat position. The Beat Generation was more an embracing of an
attitude than a certain sound or style. The works of Ray Bremser
and Gary Snyder have little in common, other than an open frankness. Allen
Ginsberg tried just about every kind of poetry. Kerouac’s stream of
consciousness is antithetical to Burrough’s cut-up
method. Unifying factors: exaltation of sex, use of mind drugs and an energetic
drive to squeeze the peaches and lemons of existence.
The Blues brought a tremendous innovation to
Euro-music, dominant back to sub-dominant, before tonic chord, also bending
notes. I’ve heard Blues-like music in India and Thailand. I’ve heard it in Roma
and Celtic music. It’s the plaintiveness, the sound of unfulfillment
and protest. The Blues are used to transcend the actual physical pains of the
no rent money, my baby left me, she won’t put out, my job sucks, and my people
are dying causes of the blues.
There are happy Blues, which are usually
braggadocios, laughing and partying to keep from crying. Those sounds hit deep
in the body. Someday, a biologist will figure out specifically what it does to
the body, the blood, the lymph, the liver, the heart, the
brain.
The Blues are a progenitor of jazz, country
& western, and rock & roll. Acid rock was also
propelled by the Blues.
ML: You
have on progress an interesting book of your friendship and adventures with the
Beat Generation. Would you mind telling me your most vivid memories?
AC: Yes, I would mind telling you my most vivid
memories, as they are in the book and you will be able to read them there… but
here’s one: Gregory Corso and his son, Max, staying
with my family in Oakland, CA. Allen Ginsberg’s been to an LSD seminar in Santa
Cruz, at UCSC and dropped some Owsley; he’s with Neely Cherkovski.
Gregory’s hitting him up for money I think and they argue. Gregory gets louder.
Allen stands up and says, “I’m not afraid of you.” Gregory squares off but
backs up and then says, “I can’t hit a man who’s tripping on acid.”
I remember Allen’s eyes on TV, when he recited “Has anyone looked in the eyes of the dead?” and
deciding to abandon the Marine Corps. That’s another one.
ML:
What's the legacy of all these legendary
Beat adventures? The Beats was more “ghosts” or humans?
AC:
They may be ghosts to other people. But, to me, they were people, yes, magical
by their talent and attitude, but they cried, worried, got jealous, lost their
tempers, made bad choices in love, weren’t always the best parents, abused
their bodies, in short, were human. But they were lovers and had style and many
of them were my friends.
ML: Which
memory from Charles Plymell, Allen Ginsberg, Gregory Corso, and Jack Micheline makes
you smile?
AC: Charlie Plymell: listening
to his stories about Neal (Cassady) and the old days
in Wichita and describing Ray Bremser’s last days
Allen, when he wept, returning to Prague after
being expelled in the Sixties, the last King of the May, to give away his
crown. Whenever Allen wept, I felt it was a sacred moment. He really meant it.
Gregory at USF (University of San Francisco)
onstage, telling the audience that the cause of all the grief,
miscommunication, evil and malfunction in the world was “One Man, in the back
of the room, right here, right now, Michael Wojczuk!”
standing next to me. Michael Wojczuk is one of the
most Righteous guys I know. Everybody turned around, looking at him. He just
smiled. Wojczuk is a great artist. He painted a
brilliant, awesome cover for my new book, Home
of the Blues, released in January.
Jack Micheline, I saw
him at the horse race track often, he bet long shots. He’d go on a full moon
and look into the eyes of the steeds with poetic names and look for the Fire.
There’s this book “Poems for Downtrodden Saints” with Jack on the cover,
counting out $5000 he hit on a trifecta, on Janine Pommy Vega’s kitchen table. Janine gasped when she saw the
book and shook her head because, unbeknownst to Janine of that score, he had
tried to bum $25 from her the next morning. We performed on the same bill, Jack
and I, over 30 times. I must have also read with Janine close to that.
ML: From the way of life of view is there any
difference and similarities between the original Beat era & today’s?
AC: Today, people are less ready to gamble and
gambol. Materialistic reality and survival dominate these times. Now people
downplay the adventures of their youth. But all these years of my life are full
of contradictions.
ML: Are there any memories from the Conference
of Small Magazine Editors and Publishers in Berkeley?
AC: Of course, I took my clothes off while I was
reading; except for an American flag necktie I wore like a priest’s stole.
Other people, including my girlfriend, also took their clothes off. Otherwise,
I didn’t understand most of the poetry, but it was quite an introduction to the
small press world.
ML: How you would spend a day with Jack Kerouac
and Mayakovski?
AC: Well, Jack Kerouac, I loved him, but at the
time of his late forties, we might not have got along. In my later years, we
would have. When I was young, I was overeager about everything, though the
working-class, fellaheen connection would have been there. Maybe
drinking, maybe hiking a mountain trail.
Now, Mayakovsky was
heavy, serious, large themed. He’d brood, I’d try to
make him laugh. We’d go looking for interesting, intelligent women who love
poets. Maybe do a little gambling. We’d be betting on things like “will
anything spill when that box falls?” “will the next
person without a hat be a man or a woman?”… all day
long.
ML: Which
incident of your life you‘d like to be captured and illustrated in a painting
AC:
In a heroic pose, with my hod (look it up) on my
shoulder.
Or pushing a wheelbarrow of soil, gravel or rubble, with my
notebook in my back pocket. Michael Wojczuk’s
portrait of me in action on the cover of Home
of the Blues is a good as it gets.
ML: You have
been traveling all around the world. What are your conclusions? What are some
of the most travels you've had?
AC: Most people want to do good.
You’ve got to understand a culture quickly to get what you want or need. The
earth is in a terrible fix. Water to drink is a Huge
issue. There are saints and assholes everywhere. Thailand, Nepal, India,
Poland, Greece, Agamemnon’s Tomb, Patmos, Corfu, Italy, Slovenia, Croatia,
Montenegro, Bosnia, Serbia, Budapest, Prague, Poland, Tashkent, Amsterdam,
Belgium, back to the house I was born in, my biological father’s grave. All
over North America, Alaska twice, down into Mexico, Oakland, Oregon, Taos, San
Jose, Texas, NYC, Chicago, Denver, Nashville, New Jersey, Alaska, Canada,
Woodstock… the story continues…
[Originally published at Blues GR: Keep the Blues Alive, 2013, http://blues.gr/profiles/ blog/ show?id=1982923%3ABlogPost%3A167423.
Used by permission of Michael Limnios and Andy
Clausen.]