He’s
been a musical favorite of mine for a long time. The late Kevin Coyne wasn’t
afraid to yell, scream, or howl. He also made frequent use of grunts, groans,
squeaks, squelches, and that mean, mean blues guitar.
Here he is doing it all at Hyde Park in 1974.
Guess what. Kevin Coyne was also a painter, poet, and film
maker.
The more I read about this guy and the more I listen, the
more I fall in love. Kevin Coyne could feel.
He worked as a psychiatric nurse and a drug counselor from 1965 to 1968. In
1969 He got his record deal. But you can hear the hospital in that first album,
Marjory Razorblade.
Coyne simmers with righteous anger for the treatment of
the mentally ill. He’s always on the verge of crying, and screaming, and
laughing.
Here are some of my favorites from Coyne’s less
appreciated mediums.
SHORT STORY –
PAINTINGS –
POEM –
No Growl
The wolf in
my head died
the day you
gave me carpet slippers
After that I
took to the settee
putting the
dog at regular intervals
Listening to
apples fall of the tree
in our
cluttered backyard
Whispering
about sex to myself
in a silly
voice I didn't
recognise as
my own
Not a growl
of anger in me
Not a tooth
in my head to bite with
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