Customer Reviews

Birth Caul

5 star:		(3)
4 star:		(1)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

On November 18th, 1995, his forty-second birthday, Alan Moore performed a lengthy autobiographical poem entitled The Birth Caul. The work was accompanied by music from David J. and Tim Perkins. Last spring saw the release of a graphic version of the poem, illustrated by Eddie Campbell. The comic and the disc go together nicely, a kind of darkly mutated version of those comic-book-and-record sets that were ubiquitous in the 1970's. Moore refers to the work as "a shamanism of childhood." I'm wary of new-agey terminology, and would prefer to characterize the piece as an honest stab at High Art. While in the world of comics, he stands out merely by virtue of his having an imagination, Moore himself has said that he would be considered a hack if subjected to the critical standards of any other medium. This attempt is a mixed bag, but Moore's still more talented than he gives himself credit for. Fans will recognize the dark, brooding poetry of Watchmen and Swamp Thing and the hidden landscapes of From Hell, but when torn away from any mythical icons or comic-book-campiness, his influences are much more visible. His vivid imagery of a damp, bleak English landscape is reminiscent of T.S. Eliot, and his stream-of-consciousness wordplay reminds one of William Burroughs. Moore's poetry doesn't really come anywhere near Eliot's, but he's actually a much better writer than Burroughs. He is still, however, more the consummate comic writer than he is a poet or performance artist. The work is much more compelling and visual in the graphic novel than it is on the CD. This may have something to do with Campbell, but I think it's more likely that Moore is just used to working in a medium that's half visual. Also, when placed in a comic, especially a superhero comic, Moore's dark poetry is striking and insightful, but by itself it often gets melodramatic and adolescent. This is too bad, because Moore's come up with some of the best turns of phrase I've heard/read in a long time. His study of the storybook banality of working-class English life is compelling and often breathtaking-but can also be pretentious and humorless. The work itself contains a certain gallows wit, but when Moore reads it, it unfortunately gets lost. Still, the disc and the comic both are both worth having, and worth enjoying separately from one another (I particularly recommend listening to the CD in a darkened room). The music is brilliant at times, with an especially haunting soundscape that recurs during the "Birth Caul" segments.

Alan Moore's (writer / speaker) and David J's and Tim Perkins's (music composition) The Birth Caul doesn't contain the carnivalesque crash and band and verbal fireworks of The Sun & Moon Grand Egyptian Theatre of Marvels nor the extraordinarily, brilliantly rendered ambience of Angel Passage. Perhaps due to the subject matter or due to this being the first recorded compilation of messieurs Moore, J., and Perkins, The Birth Caul is a much more reflective, somber, and minimalist work than the others cds by these three artists. That being said, there are two instances in the music which I think J. & Perkins show out beautifully. Section II's spacey, Sci-Fi eeriness reminds us just how otherworldly ancient history (particularly, in this case, early Anglo-Saxon history and the incipient Roman enslavement -- in Moore's words -- of Britain) can be. In Section V, in which Moore talks about giving up the self-chosen and intrinsically valuable ego to the mechanistic and brutal world-at-large and particularly the labor force, J. & Perkins create a brilliantly skewed, troubling, and strained string squeak. I don't know what they did, but if a stringed instrument can be tortured, then they deserve to be brought up on charges against the ethical use of instruments. Other than the music, hearing Moore's unique English accent (I've been on fan sites that call it "brogue" or "cool Cockney") is a one-of-a-kind experience. And he doesn't just read these compositions; he performs them. Other reviewers who have called these works stream-of-consciousness are spot-on; but it's a highly conscious, ultimately connected stream-of-consciousness. Taking the "beloved object" of his mother's birth caul as a "haunting cipher" through when he can interpret his life, he hopes to gain understanding of who he was at each stage (childhood, adolescence, early adulthood) of progression to find out what that means to and for the person he is now. This work is candidly autobiographical. You'll be amazed at some of the intellectually expansive abstractions he makes: describing life and history as being "guided by an ancient bloodstained chart"; describing the loss of adolescence as "going down for the third time in our own personal mythologies." You'll marvel at his imagination: turning the view into a butcher's shop window into looking at "a necklace of burnished liver" and "the tiaraed ribs on white and gore-dewed jeweler's trays." And then he can be a realist at another turn, describing a friend's death in a motorcycle accident: "She is cut in two on impact, torse there to one side of the road, her perfect legs upon the other." I'm in awe of what Alan Moore has created here, and I'm very glad that I'm able to hear him read such a personally meaningful, cogent, and powerful account of his life as well as his beautifully moving homage to his mother, grandmother, and (incidentally) father. For those who think Moore is a genius or one of the best writers we've got, the high price of finding one of these rare cds will be worth it. I'm not sure that $80 - $200 (the price range I've found these for) would feel like a good investment to someone who's just wondering if this is good or not or for someone who's casually involved in Moore's work. And this is nothing like his comics. I do think, though, that it shows just how much of an amazing mind exists behind the creator of so many of our favorite comics. I would recommend getting the comic version of The Birth Caul, reading it, and using your appreciation (or not) of it as a gauge to the cost you're willing to commit to hearing Moore enunciate it for you. I bought it because I see it as a metaphysical declamation of pure genius. But maybe others should be more sensible with their hard-earned dollars. But, of course, you've got to decide for yourself.

'The Birth Caul' is a recording that I find myself coming back to again and again. I dig it out and listen to it straight through at least once a year. This isn't music. It's not background noise. You sit down and listen to it as if you were reading a book.

Unless perhaps you are rather old and have a very good memory, you won't really get the perfection of the whole thing at first listen. I thought I 'got' it when I was 18 years old in 1996 and I first heard it. But I really wasn't old enough yet. Every few years another part of it makes more sense. 'The Birth Caul' is a journey backwards from middle age through each stage of life into the womb. The shamanic mysteries that an infant encounters at every turn. Faux innocence of a grammar school boy. Heartbreak of a teenager. Desperation of the young adult who leaves school to find that we work and sleep, work and sleep. And so on.

After the first dozen or so times that you have listened to this you will probably find that Alan Moore's words spoken in his deep, Northampton accent have fundamentally changed the way you think about the world. Which is precisely what the old goat intended.

This work has it all. It is the best of Moore's spoken-word CDs by far. I think it is the best thing Moore has ever done. Deeply personal. Powerfully universal. Bold. Terrifying.

Using the folklore surrounding a veil of skin over the face with which some babies are born as his jumping-off point and central metaphor, Moore takes us through a life and then backwards, to birth and beyond. His language as he does this is perfect for each stage of reverse development.

This is a stunning, perfect work. You'll want to listen to it 100 times.