Michael Lytle and George Cartwright

The Kitchen, NYC January 23, 1982

 

Where as the Franklin Furnace gig was monumental for us, because it gave the “Downtown Scene” exposure to us for the first time, the Kitchen concert four years later was the event that established us as strong members of that scene.

It was a big deal and very exciting. Of course, Bill Laswell, agreed to do it and I decided to ask Laura Esterman, the actress, to read a poem of mine as a feature of the first set. A year later I did it myself as part of a Charley Morrow, WKCR series and it came out pretty good.

Fred Frith asked us a favor. Would we would let his friend, Phil Minton, who was visiting from England perform with us? Of course, we all did whatever Fred asked in those days even though we weren’t familiar with Phil at the time, and didn’t know how amazing a vocalist he was. Maybe David did. About half way through the second set they do a series of several duets that are quite something, personally I think rather historical. (I’m not sure who played trumpet on that set, but I think it was probably Phil.) Mr. Minton is not on the first set.

I was so psyched about this concert that I planed a big party at my house after. I think I even announced it. The place was packed. Bill left early and someone picked the stopwatch off my desk. (Things don’t always go as you hope.) Phil hung out for a while and I enjoyed that.

This is a fine concert! I’m sorry the balance is not perfect. Phil, Laura and myself, the softest members, are back in the mix. If the vocal is softish it is probably Minton as David was near one of the mics. Recently, the Kitchen has chosen a section of this performance to publish in a historical series.

Sit back and enjoy the show. There is a lot of great timbre, texture and colorful sound fabrics here. Be sure to turn up the bass a little.

 

m. lytle, 2/12, nyc

 

George says that if livestock was the point, it got missed. Big miss pals.

Livestock

Livestock is sad deep brown eyes except for

Pigs

Farm ones would kill you if they had the chance. 
After all, we deserve it for killing them 
They being the fourth most intelligent animal on the earth, you know
Smart enough to be obstinate

Herd them through aluminum gates into small triangle huts
Have your babies old sows
Raise them to 225 lbs. and castrate them at one month - hopefully
Otherwise, it hurts and they scream into your ear as you try to hold them still

We throw our dead caves to and you eat them for us
As you ate the neighboring farmer who fell
And hit his head while he was feeding you
Your meager rations
Not enough, of course

Babies are your lives old sows
And corn in the morning
We will give you muddy fields
And call you filthy because you cannot sweat
You must be wet on hot days

Sheep

Don’t forget the sheep
These sheep look w/fear at who knows what
Almost anything

Woolly and soft and touchable they are
To hold them takes great strength
(Mom, look at my back)

But don’t chase them
For they will die of heart failure
Within ten concentrated minutes

Does your dog run loose
Do you want to be sued
By your angry sheep owner neighbor

Teach him to be kind to sheep
They are beautiful
They make soft baaing sounds
They never hurt anyone

And they don’t need to drink
Because dew on the morning grass is enough

Chickens

What do they say
BurrRuck, burruck
Go get the grubs

Let them run
Are they real
Surely no cages for them

The slick smooth young
Pay attention to the 100’s of sounds

Please take an egg

Gather their droppings
You want the greatest tomatoes and wandering jews
For in all the world only the shit of rabbits is better
(Except for bats)

Rabbits with wet, twitching, warm noses

Cows

These are the ones with soft brown eyes

How can I tell you how beautiful they are at birth
With the mother mewing, crying on a crisp spring morning

Can you walk
You Taurus you
No Yes No
Oh, do it
Now or never

 

 

Mother nose the chest of your child
He can do it
He can walk
He’s doing it
Dopey brown eyes
He is running, jumping

Joy oh joy of living
He is beautiful, young and soft on the green clover
Come on; show him your bag of milk
He will never forget it

Run with him
Are you young again

Good, you are forgetting a few things

You are forgetting
The years of vets
Stuffing their arm to elbow up you
To artificially inseminate your warm wet life

You are forgetting
The cries of your babies
As they were driven from your milk
Into conveyer belt feedlots

You are forgetting
Your calling/answering bellows
From across the fields
The lime green fields
Filled with bees and alfalfa flowers

Beautiful sweet/sour English horn
My heart reaches out to your sorrow

Why am I working for this man
These men
Who supply the meat counters in taxi land
Where we are too busy to notice
This

 

 

Coda

So
A word of gratitude actually
To you livestock

You have enriched me

Thank you for your life
Of joys and simple pleasures
Before we fuck with you & cut your balls off
And separate you from your natural life

You are beautiful and courageous
Do not listen to those
Who call you cowards

I promise
Vow
I will personally
Stop you in the middle
No longer