I read a poem by Auden

A cousin gave me a book, long, but not so long ago, but long enough for the book to have become a friend and missed companion when thoughtlessly misplaced in moves from here to there. It was a Dover Thrift Edition titled “100 Best-Loved Poems” which, for reasons I’m ashamed to admit, caused me such embarrassment that I didn’t like being caught reading from it. In it was a poem by W.H. Auden titled “Musée des Beaux Arts”.

(How could I have missed this? My usual response to something so appealingly written. Perhaps I missed the reference in Professor Greene’s discussion on Brueghel the Elder in the History of Art (Janson 2nd edition), because she certainly would have alluded to it, slyly in all likelihood, knowingly, compassionately - what could a room of children pretending to be grown know of Old Masters anyway?)

I share it with you now, because, like all works of great beauty, it is sublime. Then, I’ll tell you what I’m up to and why this poem has something to do with it.

(You will have to go look at the painting, of course. It’s in Brussels, so maybe online will be your default, but look at it because then you will be seeing something of what compelled Auden to write about it.)

This poem captures, so casually and perfectly, a curious truth: that our experiences of happiness as well as suffering are utterly singular yet shared, known and unknown, relevant and meaningless. This truth is part of what compels me to write songs (poems!), compose their sounds, and sing their words as I try to see through the narrow scope of my own life what others see, feel and know.

When a story, poem or song resonates with its audience, there occurs a momentary alignment that transcends our lonesome solitude. This is the chalice sought by art. A high and noble goal. Not remotely easily attainable. Generally a lost cause. The subject of much ridicule (laugh, clown, laugh!). And yet. And yet. And yet.

Auden says about the Old Masters: “how well they understood”. With time, we do understand something of our shared journey and like a recipe, handwritten in a mother’s hand, passed down from sibling to sibling and then beyond, we try and try again to communicate our love for one another - there are so many ways available to us. Choose one.

My new album, Oceans of Kansas, comes out this Friday, October 17th. The poems (songs!) on the album reflect a lifetime’s vicissitudes. Intentionally, then, the musical styles, while harmonious, are not the same: rock ballads follow blues, which lead to jazz vocals, bossa-nova rumblings, then back around to a raucous, nostalgic, rock n roll soliloquy.

I invite you to listen on Friday and I hope you’ll find among the offerings a few that lead you to water and to ask “How could I have missed this?”.

Pre-save Oceans of Kansas here.

Produced, recorded and mixed by Reed Turchi at Second Take Sound, NYC; Mastered by Greg Calbi at Sterling Sound, NJ; Album design by Bruce Hanson; Textual elements by Jane Ellis; Photography by Lara Callahan