Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Who's the Cowboy Now?

The other day, Alyssa and I watched a 1995 self-proclaimed "acid western" by Jim Jarmusch, featuring a young Johnny Depp. Also in the film: Billy Bob Thornton, Iggy Pop, Crispin Glover, John Hurt, and Gary Farmer, a Native American actor who plays the role of Xebeche ("He who talks loud, says nothing"). Through most of the film, Xebeche goes by the name "Nobody," and serves as a spiritual guide to Johnny Depp's character, accountant William Blake, whom Nobody mistakes for the wandering spirit of the poet with the same name.

We were inspired to watch the movie after hearing The Illalogical Spoon's scathing ditty, "Who's the Cowboy Now?," a harsh criticism of American entitlement and greed. The ending of the song features a sound byte from the film:

Here's the clip from the movie:

For those interested, the soundtrack was performed by Neil Young, alone in a recording studio, improvising on the electric guitar as he watched the movie.

The film itself is a beautifully tragic and poetic look at the myth of redemptive violence, as well as the subjugation of Native Americans at the hands of Manifest Destiny. It's a wonderful movie, but exceedingly trippy. Watch it, but at your own discretion.

1 comment:

  1. The Moon
    on a cat


    As a native Swede, I am particularly proud of my love poetry suite Sonnets for Katie.

    My Poems

    My wallpaper art Babes!

    Sexuality introduces Death to Being; and indeed Life simultaneously. This is the profound Myth of the Eden. The work of the Serpent. Bringing us out of "blessed" Standstill. So, in contrast to the mindless pietism of vulgar Christianity, my personal "Christo-Satanism" should be given serious thought by the Enlightened Few, the Pneumatics, the 1% Outlaws. The Light Bringer must be rehabilitated, beacause if not, the All of it simply doesn't make sense: true Catholicism is necessarily Meta Catholicism.

    My philosophy

    My poetry in French:


    My poetry in German:

    Fremde Gedichte

    Casualidad sopla la sangre
    de alguno señor desconocido
    durante los pocos restantes
    momentos del resplandor de faroles

    que se vislumbran tras el follaje
    flameando de las obsesiónes
    igual efimero como gotas
    del cinzano de la soledad –

    En aquel tiempo me levanta
    dentro uno incidente avejentado
    que en seguida palidece
    al camouflaje de abstraccion;

    chica, nadie conoce que tus grisos
    ojos significan aún; con todo
    el sueño que hube evacuado
    tu escudriñas nuevamente.

    My Poetry in Spanish

    My music blog, with a focus on obscure classical music no one else talks about:


    And: reciprocity: for mutual benefit, you will do me a favor promoting your own blog on mine!


    - Peter Ingestad, Sweden