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Brand New Ancients: A Poem
Brand New Ancients is the tale of two families and their intertwining lives, set against the background of the city and braided with classical myth. Here, Tempest shows how the old myths still live on in our everyday acts of violence, bravery, sacrifice and love – and that our lives make tales no less dramatic and powerful than those of the old gods.
64 pages, Paperback
First published August 29, 2013
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 365 reviews
July 24, 2015
I was drawn to this narrative poem by the cover – Ancient Greeks toting briefcases and smart phones. That’s right down my alley. I understand Ms. Tempest is an accomplished musician as well as a poet, and this short book has a lyrical, musical quality. The preface notes that it is to be read aloud. I can see why. The tone and performance elements remind me of the Beat poetry of the 1950s and 60s. “Winged sandals tearing up the pavement” is a line that one can imagine from Lawrence Ferlinghetti.
This is a very short read, with stanzas musing on the constancy of the human condition and how we really haven’t come so far from the days when Zeus and Hera might have walked among us. But the real power of the poem is Tempest’s narrative. She deftly weaves together two generations of modern families, telling stories of love, betrayal, anger and revenge with a minimum of verbiage. It’s truly impressive how much story and characterization get packed into such a small number of pages. Tempest effectively translates Greek tragedy to modern England.
May 18, 2016
This is some seriously shitty poetry wrapped around an ethical problem. I fear the culture industry in this country is about to eat Kate Tempest on toast, because she does a lot of things the country at large sort of wants to do: be edgy in a nondescript post Guy Ritchie kind of way, think about foreign countries only when they can sort of be used by British people, and kind of tamp down any possibility for meaningful change. When the narrator announces that, in this world, "There are no clear-cut definitions of what's just," it seems like a sort of exhausted shrug in the direction of ethics. People glass and get glassed, fuck and get fucked; there's no system to intervene, nor anything one can do save try to be "the kind of god a god can trust." Let sentimental blokiness be finale of seem. And that bit announcing this is meant to be out loud: you mean, like poetry?
You would never know, reading this, that London was an international city; the prospect of multiple cultures never darkens this doorstep. And so what you get instead is this artificial geezery ecosystem that kind of people who read poetry can look into as a kind of class sublime: we can thrill a bit to these meaningless pub-n-thud lives before going back to Waitrose. I've never, in some seriousness, felt the absence of international socialism, or failing that just some vision or abstraction or sense of possibility, more. (Wankers of the world: you have nothing to lose but some shitty writing about doing shitty cocaine in whatever part of South London is next going condo.)
In the end, I was kind of fascinated with this as the ultimate incarnation of something I really don't like; and it's absolutely not without power, in a way that really banal things sometimes are. But the more seriously you take this, the grimmer it is. Fuck me, but I'd rather be watching "Downton": at least no-one pretends that that anti-socialist fantasy is contemporary.
You would never know, reading this, that London was an international city; the prospect of multiple cultures never darkens this doorstep. And so what you get instead is this artificial geezery ecosystem that kind of people who read poetry can look into as a kind of class sublime: we can thrill a bit to these meaningless pub-n-thud lives before going back to Waitrose. I've never, in some seriousness, felt the absence of international socialism, or failing that just some vision or abstraction or sense of possibility, more. (Wankers of the world: you have nothing to lose but some shitty writing about doing shitty cocaine in whatever part of South London is next going condo.)
In the end, I was kind of fascinated with this as the ultimate incarnation of something I really don't like; and it's absolutely not without power, in a way that really banal things sometimes are. But the more seriously you take this, the grimmer it is. Fuck me, but I'd rather be watching "Downton": at least no-one pretends that that anti-socialist fantasy is contemporary.
April 10, 2017
Kate Tempest has been on my list of poets/playwrights/writers to try for a while now, and I'm not even sure why other than her name sounding vaguely Shakespearean. So I was just not expecting what I found! Kate started her writing as a rapper outside London, and that comes across in word choice, rhythm, and the way the poems scream for performance. Just picture her words in a female version of Ed Sheeran's voice and you're almost there... although he's quite a bit milder than she is.
This book is long poem about how humanity is this generation's gods, and what that might mean.
A modified version of this poem, with actors but also the poet performing an abridged/revised version of the poem, is available in an almost 12 minute film in YouTube. Definitely worth a try, because Kate Tempest is a unique voice.
This book is long poem about how humanity is this generation's gods, and what that might mean.
"We are still godly;I went looking for the poet in YouTube. Hello internet rabbit hole!
that's what makes us so monstrous."
A modified version of this poem, with actors but also the poet performing an abridged/revised version of the poem, is available in an almost 12 minute film in YouTube. Definitely worth a try, because Kate Tempest is a unique voice.
October 2, 2015
cliche poetry: best read with roommate when drunk on a Thursday.
January 22, 2020
Questo poema è un invito a ritrovare la deità che è in ciascuno di noi, un invito a ritrovarla attraverso l'amore. Riporto alcuni passaggi che secondo me fanno riflettere:
“Siamo ancora mitici, però.
Ancora perennemente intrappolati tra l’eroico e il patetico.
Siamo ancora divini;
è questo che ci rende così mostruosi.
Ma l’impressione è che ci siamo dimenticati di essere ben più che la somma di tutte
le cose che possediamo.”
“Guardate meglio e concedetevi di vederli.
Milioni di personaggi,
ognuno con la propria narrazione epica,
che cantano difficile essere un angelo
finché non sei stato un demonio.
Il cielo è così perfetto che sembra dipinto
ma l’aria è tanto densa che ci sentiamo svenire.
Eppure
i miti di questa città hanno detto sempre la stessa cosa –
che tutto ciò che ci serve è un posto a cui appartenere;
che tutto ciò che ci serve è saper distinguere bene e male e
che tutti dobbiamo lottare per scoprire da soli
da che parte stare.
Abbiamo tutti bisogno di amare
e di essere amati
e di andare avanti.”
“Siamo perfetti proprio per le nostre imperfezioni.
Dobbiamo continuare a sperare;
dobbiamo restare pazienti –
perché quando un giorno scaveranno il tempo moderno
troveranno noi: gli Antichi Nuovi di Zecca.
Vedete – tutto ciò che abbiamo è ciò che abbiamo sempre avuto.
Abbiamo gelosie
tenerezze, maledizioni e talenti.”
“Avidità, crepacuore e ambizione
coraggio, amore, pentimento e trasgressione –
siamo gli stessi fin dall’inizio, continuiamo a vivere
in tutta la nostra furia, malvagità e conflitti,
odissee quotidiane, sogni e decisioni...
Le storie ci sono, basta ascoltarle.
Le storie sono qui,
le storie siete voi,
le vostre paure
e le vostre speranze
sono vecchie
come le parole di fumo,
le parole del sangue,
le parole dell’amore
che langue.”
“Guardatelo, maestoso nella sua meschinità e nello sforzo di non tradirsi,
come un macigno che resiste immobile, anche se si sbriciola dentro, resta saldo
e comprensivo. Kevin, il tuo altare è ricoperto di muschio,
il tuo motto, inciso tempo fa, è ormai distorto: recitava –
resta saldo, anche se gli altri vacillano.”
“Jane – una Pandora Nuova di Zecca seduta a gambe incrociate
davanti al vaso appena scoperchiato
col cuore colmo di vergogna e lo stomaco annodato,
indietro non si torna, deve imparare da sola
a perdonarsi e andare avanti,
perché quel che succede in amore, ormai è assodato,
va sempre al di là di ciò che è giusto e ciò che è sbagliato.”
“Gli dèi sono sulla spiaggia, mano nella mano sotto le stelle
Gli dèi sono in strada a lavare le macchine
gli dèi vanno a trovare i genitori e parlano del passato”
“ci siamo dimenticati come parlare a noi stessi e anche come ascoltare.
Ma gli dèi sono a teatro, suonano archi,
osservano intenti gli alberi che si muovono al vento,
gli dèi sono qui con noi, per quanto suoni incredibile:
siamo tutti dèi, non ci sono né re né corone,
solo noi, un solo essere, infinito e sacro,
dèi, incasinati e soli,
sconquassati, stressati, instupiditi, furenti,
sprecati... è sempre la stessa storia: antichi nuovi di zecca.”
“Nelle antiche legende gli dèi camminavano in mezzo a noi.
Combattevano tra loro per salvarci, perché ci volevano bene,
oppure, certe volte, si trasformavano in animali,
scendevano tra noi e ci violentavano.
In loro c’era anche cattiveria; avevano personalità conflittuali.
Sentivano quel che sentiamo noi, erano imperfetti e tarati
e se noi eccellevamo in qualche cosa, loro ci esaltavano.
Ora, invece, abbiamo idoli distanti, intoccabili, luminosi,
pubblicità che mentono con la mano sul cuore
mentre noi a bocca aperta li ammiriamo sorridenti.
Ma io non voglio che parli un rappresentante della gente.
Voglio che la gente parli per conto suo.
E ami e sia in pace. Altrimenti
sia infuriata fino alla barbarie:
insomma, voglio che sia umana.
Meglio di questa vacua cavità
che sventra la nostra capacità
di eccellere in azioni silenziose.
In piccoli atti di eroismo. In epiche quotidiane.”
“Tommy non riesce a dire niente, ma con delicatezza si stacca dalla parete,
lei si volta, lo vede e si sente sul punto di svenire.
Non ha molto da dirgli,
però si abbracciano
e lui la stringe cercando di dirle con le braccia tutte le cose che ha capito
nel viaggio in metro e nel momento in cui l’ha vista
difendersi come un’eroina, una dea.
E con gli occhi le chiede perdono per tutte le volte
in cui non l’ha baciata nel modo giusto.
E capisce d’esser stato compreso, perché sente che lei lo abbraccia stretto.”
“Gli dèi si stringono a vicenda nella penombra del pub,
un dio diventa tale quando ha il fegato di amare.
Un dio resta per sempre tale, non importa cosa fa,
però dovrebbe cercare di essere il tipo di dio di cui un dio si può fidare.
Definizioni nette di cosa sia giusto non se ne possono dare,
ogni dio ha in sé la capacità di schiacciare e di essere schiacciato,
di cadere e risorgere, di dare troppo o di prendere oltre ogni limite,
di odiare, ma la cosa principale è che la “grandezza” è uno stato mentale.
Siamo antichi, nuovi di zecca, semplici e molto avanti sulla strada
di ridurci in nulla; dobbiamo riconoscere di essere straordinari
e che possiamo diventare gli dèi che siamo nati per essere attraverso l’amore.
Sì, gli dèi siedono sulle panchine ai giardinetti, gli dèi prendono l’autobus,
gli dèi sono tutti qui, gli dèi sono in noi.
Gli Dèi sono senza tempo, senza paura, lottano per essere audaci,
la convinzione è una mano pesante da reggere,
afferrala stretta, i calzari alati stracciano l’asfalto –
voi, me, siamo tutti Antichi Nuovi di Zecca.”
“Siamo ancora mitici, però.
Ancora perennemente intrappolati tra l’eroico e il patetico.
Siamo ancora divini;
è questo che ci rende così mostruosi.
Ma l’impressione è che ci siamo dimenticati di essere ben più che la somma di tutte
le cose che possediamo.”
“Guardate meglio e concedetevi di vederli.
Milioni di personaggi,
ognuno con la propria narrazione epica,
che cantano difficile essere un angelo
finché non sei stato un demonio.
Il cielo è così perfetto che sembra dipinto
ma l’aria è tanto densa che ci sentiamo svenire.
Eppure
i miti di questa città hanno detto sempre la stessa cosa –
che tutto ciò che ci serve è un posto a cui appartenere;
che tutto ciò che ci serve è saper distinguere bene e male e
che tutti dobbiamo lottare per scoprire da soli
da che parte stare.
Abbiamo tutti bisogno di amare
e di essere amati
e di andare avanti.”
“Siamo perfetti proprio per le nostre imperfezioni.
Dobbiamo continuare a sperare;
dobbiamo restare pazienti –
perché quando un giorno scaveranno il tempo moderno
troveranno noi: gli Antichi Nuovi di Zecca.
Vedete – tutto ciò che abbiamo è ciò che abbiamo sempre avuto.
Abbiamo gelosie
tenerezze, maledizioni e talenti.”
“Avidità, crepacuore e ambizione
coraggio, amore, pentimento e trasgressione –
siamo gli stessi fin dall’inizio, continuiamo a vivere
in tutta la nostra furia, malvagità e conflitti,
odissee quotidiane, sogni e decisioni...
Le storie ci sono, basta ascoltarle.
Le storie sono qui,
le storie siete voi,
le vostre paure
e le vostre speranze
sono vecchie
come le parole di fumo,
le parole del sangue,
le parole dell’amore
che langue.”
“Guardatelo, maestoso nella sua meschinità e nello sforzo di non tradirsi,
come un macigno che resiste immobile, anche se si sbriciola dentro, resta saldo
e comprensivo. Kevin, il tuo altare è ricoperto di muschio,
il tuo motto, inciso tempo fa, è ormai distorto: recitava –
resta saldo, anche se gli altri vacillano.”
“Jane – una Pandora Nuova di Zecca seduta a gambe incrociate
davanti al vaso appena scoperchiato
col cuore colmo di vergogna e lo stomaco annodato,
indietro non si torna, deve imparare da sola
a perdonarsi e andare avanti,
perché quel che succede in amore, ormai è assodato,
va sempre al di là di ciò che è giusto e ciò che è sbagliato.”
“Gli dèi sono sulla spiaggia, mano nella mano sotto le stelle
Gli dèi sono in strada a lavare le macchine
gli dèi vanno a trovare i genitori e parlano del passato”
“ci siamo dimenticati come parlare a noi stessi e anche come ascoltare.
Ma gli dèi sono a teatro, suonano archi,
osservano intenti gli alberi che si muovono al vento,
gli dèi sono qui con noi, per quanto suoni incredibile:
siamo tutti dèi, non ci sono né re né corone,
solo noi, un solo essere, infinito e sacro,
dèi, incasinati e soli,
sconquassati, stressati, instupiditi, furenti,
sprecati... è sempre la stessa storia: antichi nuovi di zecca.”
“Nelle antiche legende gli dèi camminavano in mezzo a noi.
Combattevano tra loro per salvarci, perché ci volevano bene,
oppure, certe volte, si trasformavano in animali,
scendevano tra noi e ci violentavano.
In loro c’era anche cattiveria; avevano personalità conflittuali.
Sentivano quel che sentiamo noi, erano imperfetti e tarati
e se noi eccellevamo in qualche cosa, loro ci esaltavano.
Ora, invece, abbiamo idoli distanti, intoccabili, luminosi,
pubblicità che mentono con la mano sul cuore
mentre noi a bocca aperta li ammiriamo sorridenti.
Ma io non voglio che parli un rappresentante della gente.
Voglio che la gente parli per conto suo.
E ami e sia in pace. Altrimenti
sia infuriata fino alla barbarie:
insomma, voglio che sia umana.
Meglio di questa vacua cavità
che sventra la nostra capacità
di eccellere in azioni silenziose.
In piccoli atti di eroismo. In epiche quotidiane.”
“Tommy non riesce a dire niente, ma con delicatezza si stacca dalla parete,
lei si volta, lo vede e si sente sul punto di svenire.
Non ha molto da dirgli,
però si abbracciano
e lui la stringe cercando di dirle con le braccia tutte le cose che ha capito
nel viaggio in metro e nel momento in cui l’ha vista
difendersi come un’eroina, una dea.
E con gli occhi le chiede perdono per tutte le volte
in cui non l’ha baciata nel modo giusto.
E capisce d’esser stato compreso, perché sente che lei lo abbraccia stretto.”
“Gli dèi si stringono a vicenda nella penombra del pub,
un dio diventa tale quando ha il fegato di amare.
Un dio resta per sempre tale, non importa cosa fa,
però dovrebbe cercare di essere il tipo di dio di cui un dio si può fidare.
Definizioni nette di cosa sia giusto non se ne possono dare,
ogni dio ha in sé la capacità di schiacciare e di essere schiacciato,
di cadere e risorgere, di dare troppo o di prendere oltre ogni limite,
di odiare, ma la cosa principale è che la “grandezza” è uno stato mentale.
Siamo antichi, nuovi di zecca, semplici e molto avanti sulla strada
di ridurci in nulla; dobbiamo riconoscere di essere straordinari
e che possiamo diventare gli dèi che siamo nati per essere attraverso l’amore.
Sì, gli dèi siedono sulle panchine ai giardinetti, gli dèi prendono l’autobus,
gli dèi sono tutti qui, gli dèi sono in noi.
Gli Dèi sono senza tempo, senza paura, lottano per essere audaci,
la convinzione è una mano pesante da reggere,
afferrala stretta, i calzari alati stracciano l’asfalto –
voi, me, siamo tutti Antichi Nuovi di Zecca.”
June 18, 2017
Kate Tempest is a former rapper and this story poem has a great swing and rhythm to it. The story of all of us, it is also the story of infidelity and the children born from it. Two brothers who don't know they're related.
We're all gods-we've just forgotten it. Divinity is in all of us-or maybe we're in it. Tempest sings of the extraordinary contained within the ordinary in language that is sometimes elevated but more often the vernacular used by the characters she has created. But what magic she works on that vernacular!
She notes that this is a book meant to read aloud, so I did and had a lot of fun.
We're all gods-we've just forgotten it. Divinity is in all of us-or maybe we're in it. Tempest sings of the extraordinary contained within the ordinary in language that is sometimes elevated but more often the vernacular used by the characters she has created. But what magic she works on that vernacular!
She notes that this is a book meant to read aloud, so I did and had a lot of fun.
October 15, 2016
This is a wonderful collection of poetry from a brilliant and talented writer. Check her music out as well - she is an original rap singer too. i can definitely see why she got a Hughes prize and was so highly praised at SXSW 2014. Check her out! (Concert in Paris 28-10-16 @ La Gaîté Lyrique)
January 19, 2024
Tek kelimeyle şahane.
September 19, 2017
I had heard about this and loved other such Ancient-Modern fusion stuff like some of Gaiman's works or Alice Oswald's Memorial or Atwood's the Penelopiad or Anders Nilsen's Rage of Poseidon, etc.
In short, this one doesn't really do a good job of living up to the whole Ancient/Modern mash-up because it really just uses the idea of the gods as a mask. There's no real depth to it. There were gods in ancient times, now we are the gods in modern times. The fact that it didn't deliver on this pretty much turned me off of the whole thing. However, it does have some qualities worth praising:
1. Tempest is obviously a very talented rapper/poet. The book itself suggests it is best read out loud and it definitely has a strong performative lean.
2. The story within is not a bad one, the female character solves her own problem rather than getting saved. And there's some weird visceral humanity to deal with-which is nice in an upsetting way.
Unfortunately I just don't care. I didn't want to read a story/poem about the intertwining fates of people trying to people and people trying to be monsters. But then to have that put in my face with an ancient Greek mask on it? Maybe you can see my point now.
Not worth the read for an obsessive classicist like me. I don't particularly want to discourage others from reading, just don't expect what I expected based on the other works I mentioned.
In short, this one doesn't really do a good job of living up to the whole Ancient/Modern mash-up because it really just uses the idea of the gods as a mask. There's no real depth to it. There were gods in ancient times, now we are the gods in modern times. The fact that it didn't deliver on this pretty much turned me off of the whole thing. However, it does have some qualities worth praising:
1. Tempest is obviously a very talented rapper/poet. The book itself suggests it is best read out loud and it definitely has a strong performative lean.
2. The story within is not a bad one, the female character solves her own problem rather than getting saved. And there's some weird visceral humanity to deal with-which is nice in an upsetting way.
Unfortunately I just don't care. I didn't want to read a story/poem about the intertwining fates of people trying to people and people trying to be monsters. But then to have that put in my face with an ancient Greek mask on it? Maybe you can see my point now.
Not worth the read for an obsessive classicist like me. I don't particularly want to discourage others from reading, just don't expect what I expected based on the other works I mentioned.
October 25, 2015
Amazing. Almost life changing. No, scratch that. Life Changing.
If this is what poetry can be, then poetry is about to come back in a big way.
I can not stress enough the fact that this book is to be read aloud, as Tempest invites.
Easily read it in one sitting. Probably could read it again.
Honest, insightful, heart wrenching, fun, philosophical, angry, inspired, revolutionary, hopeful, ironic, and pragmatic all with an internal rhythm that you can't help but be pulled along into.
If you find yourself skittish at the idea of poetry, read this book. It's a poem with a plot. It's a poem about your life, no matter who you are. It's a poem about where we are as people. And it's never waving that in your face, it's just inviting you along.
If this is what poetry can be, then poetry is about to come back in a big way.
I can not stress enough the fact that this book is to be read aloud, as Tempest invites.
Easily read it in one sitting. Probably could read it again.
Honest, insightful, heart wrenching, fun, philosophical, angry, inspired, revolutionary, hopeful, ironic, and pragmatic all with an internal rhythm that you can't help but be pulled along into.
If you find yourself skittish at the idea of poetry, read this book. It's a poem with a plot. It's a poem about your life, no matter who you are. It's a poem about where we are as people. And it's never waving that in your face, it's just inviting you along.
December 26, 2019
L'abilità narrativa nei poemi in versi della Tempest è encomiabile, poiché mantenere il ritmo della storia attraverso la poesia e le rime non è cosa da tutti. Leggerlo in inglese dà un valore aggiunto, permette di carpire tutta la musicalità del testo originale; bella la storia delle persone comuni come noi, che ricordano le antiche divinità. Umani, in tutto e per tutto.
February 28, 2023
“what happens in love is beyond right or wrong”
Brand New Ancients is a narrative poem about two neighboring families and their intertwined experiences. A fascinating idea that is also well executed by Kae Tempest as the poem shows how these modern day people have commonalities with the ancient gods through their actions and emotions.
Brand New Ancients is a narrative poem about two neighboring families and their intertwined experiences. A fascinating idea that is also well executed by Kae Tempest as the poem shows how these modern day people have commonalities with the ancient gods through their actions and emotions.
July 25, 2024
10/10 izugarri gustatu zait!!! kae ez nuen ezagutzen baina superrrr fan! hain gordin, real, gogor baino oso polita
glad the gods are writting such masterpieces, lol
gainera iruditzen zait super originala poema bakar bat izatea, baino denboran hainbeste bizitza kontatzea, eta biende guapo inglesez eta euskaraz irakurri ahal izatea eta konparatzea :) eskerrikasko @garasitxo maite zaitut!!
glad the gods are writting such masterpieces, lol
gainera iruditzen zait super originala poema bakar bat izatea, baino denboran hainbeste bizitza kontatzea, eta biende guapo inglesez eta euskaraz irakurri ahal izatea eta konparatzea :) eskerrikasko @garasitxo maite zaitut!!
October 21, 2019
Fatevi un regalo: leggete questo libro!
Mi sono approcciata alla Tempest su consiglio di mio fratello, mi aspettavo una cosa diversa ... ma Antichi Nuovi di Zecca mi ha FULMINATA! E' un modo nuovo, fresco e decisamente contemporaneo di concepire la poesia. Tempest ci racconta la vita, l'amore, la monotonia, la banalità e il male in una chiave inedita e irresistibile. Niente fronzoli, solo la verità nuda e cruda in tutto il suo squallore. Un'umanità, quella di Tempest, primordiale e barbara che ha forti legami con l'arcaico e con l'antichità. Divinità antiche incontrano e si fondono con l'uomo e la donna comune, che sono le divinità contemporanee.
Divinità immerse nella melma di una quotidiniatà insoddisfatta e insoddisfacente.
Plauso alle edizioni E/O che hanno scelto di lasciare l'originale inglese a fronte. Un consiglio? Leggetelo in inglese! Purtroppo la resa italiana non rende la musicalità dell'originale che, a mio modesto parere, costituisce un altro aspetto geniale del modo di raccontare la storia di Kate Tempest.
Un poema che nasce per essere letto a voce alto e che fa della musicalità un elemento fondante e fondamentale del racconto.
Ho amato ogni verso ...
Mi sono approcciata alla Tempest su consiglio di mio fratello, mi aspettavo una cosa diversa ... ma Antichi Nuovi di Zecca mi ha FULMINATA! E' un modo nuovo, fresco e decisamente contemporaneo di concepire la poesia. Tempest ci racconta la vita, l'amore, la monotonia, la banalità e il male in una chiave inedita e irresistibile. Niente fronzoli, solo la verità nuda e cruda in tutto il suo squallore. Un'umanità, quella di Tempest, primordiale e barbara che ha forti legami con l'arcaico e con l'antichità. Divinità antiche incontrano e si fondono con l'uomo e la donna comune, che sono le divinità contemporanee.
Divinità immerse nella melma di una quotidiniatà insoddisfatta e insoddisfacente.
Plauso alle edizioni E/O che hanno scelto di lasciare l'originale inglese a fronte. Un consiglio? Leggetelo in inglese! Purtroppo la resa italiana non rende la musicalità dell'originale che, a mio modesto parere, costituisce un altro aspetto geniale del modo di raccontare la storia di Kate Tempest.
Un poema che nasce per essere letto a voce alto e che fa della musicalità un elemento fondante e fondamentale del racconto.
Ho amato ogni verso ...
May 18, 2019
I'm well impressed with this one, reminds me at times of Ginsberg's Howl, the short lines, long lines and repetition give you a feeling of constantly changing direction. Moments of talking about Gods almost make it fell like the poem is reaching a crescendo.
Most impressive though is how it tells a story, draws you in and makes you forget that you are reading a poem. Great bunch of characters and interesting to read/watch as Kate Tempest plays God with their lives.
I've seen Kate Tempest performing her work on the BBC, incredibly powerful stuff. Check it out here.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3xu5H...
Most impressive though is how it tells a story, draws you in and makes you forget that you are reading a poem. Great bunch of characters and interesting to read/watch as Kate Tempest plays God with their lives.
I've seen Kate Tempest performing her work on the BBC, incredibly powerful stuff. Check it out here.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3xu5H...
May 16, 2021
Once again, another incredible long-form poem from Kae Tempest. I read this in a single sitting, and that final line was a complete gut punch - I had to let out an audible breath when I finished! Glad I finally got to this one because Tempest's poetry is really something special to me. Would love to see an actual performance of this some day.
February 23, 2022
À relire sans faute en anglais.
J'ai besoin de lire plus de poèmes urbains maintenant.
J'ai besoin de lire plus de poèmes urbains maintenant.
May 3, 2024
There is much to love in this poem, here are some of it:
"In the old days
The myths were the stories we used to explain ourselves.
But how can we explain the way we hate ourselves,
the things we've made ourselves into..."
"We are still permanently trapped somewhere between the heroic and the pitiful.
We are still godly;
that's what makes us monstrous."
"We are perfect because of our imperfections.
We must stay hopeful;
We must stay patient -
because when they excavate the modern day
they'll find us: the Brand New Ancients.......
The Gods are all here.
Because the gods are in us."
"you will see the Gods rise
in the most human and unassuming of eyes......
a God knows better than most how to settle for less."
"The gods are in the betting shops
the gods are in the caff
the gods are smoking fags out the back
the gods are in the office blocks
the gods are at their desks
the gods are sick of always giving more and getting less
the gods are at the rave –
two pills deep into dancing –
the gods are in the alleyway laughing
the gods are at the doctor’s
they need a little something for the stress
the gods are in the toilets having unprotected sex
the gods are in the supermarket
the gods are walking home,
the gods can’t stop checking Facebook on their phones
the gods are in a traffic jam
the gods are on the train
the gods are watching adverts
the gods are not to blame –
they are working for the council
now they’re on the dole
now they’re getting drunk pissing their wages down a hole
the gods are in their gardens
with their decking and their plants
the gods are in the classrooms
the poor things don’t stand a chance
they are trying to tell the truth
but the truth is hard to say
the gods are born, they live a while
and then they pass away.....
The gods are on the beach holding hands beneath the stars
the gods are on the streets washing their cars
the gods are visiting their parents, they're talking 'bout the past
helping their new nieces make papier-mache masks
for the school play, the gods can't wait to have a lie in,
the gods are getting on with it, the gods are really trying.
The gods are throwing dirt on the coffin of a loved one,
blaming themselves, wondering what they done wrong;
the gods are in the kitchen making dinner for their mates,but now they've had a row and now they've smashed a couple plates,
the gods are up early again, working late,
standing in a queue feeling sick, got the shakes,
the gods have had enough, they got nothing left to hate,
but they like to watch the sun when it settles on the lake,
the gods are on their knees feeling lost and exhausted,
deadlines, debts, divorces,
forgotten our calling,
forgotten our wisdom,
forgotten how to speak to ourselves, how to listen.
But the gods are in the theaters, the gods are playing strings,
the gods are staring at the trees as they move in the wind,
the gods are right here, as far-fetched as it sounds:
everyone's a god, no kings, no crowns,
just us, one being, infinite and holy,
gods, messed up, lonely,
squashed, stressed out, dumbed down, raging, wasted.....
The gods are singing in the mirrors, but they're not quite up to par
the gods are desperate now - please, they say, I wanna be a star,
the gods are staring at themselves hating everything they see,
they just want to be beautiful, ageless, signed to big
labels with airbrushed bodies that shine golden,
then they can be happy; they just need to get chosen.
So choose us. The gods are on their knees before false idols
saying all I ever wanted was to it to the final.
The gods are waking up and reaching for their partners,
the gods are raising kids doing PhDs and masters.
The gods are having physio, learning how to walk after a fall,
the gods are feeling miserable and they don't know who to call,
the gods are lying on the floor feeling far away and worthless,
the gods have forgotten that they're gods, that they're perfect.
The gods are holding one another in the darkness of the pub,
a god becomes a god when it has got the guts to love.
A god remains a god for ever, no matter what it does,
but still, a god should try and be the kind of god a god can trust.
There are no clear cut definitions of what's just,
every god has got it in them to crush, to be crushed,
to fall, to rise up, to give far too much, to take beyond taking,
to hate, but the main theme is 'great' is a state of mind.
We are ancient, brand new; basic and far beyond making
ourselves into nothing; we need to recognize we're something,
and that we can be the gods we were born to be through loving.
Yes, the gods are on the park bench, the gods are on the bus,
the gods are all here, the gods are in us.
The Gods are timeless, fearless, fighting to be bold,
conviction is a heavy hand to hold,
grip it, winged sandals tearing up the pavement -
you, me, everyone: Brand New Ancients."
"In the old days
The myths were the stories we used to explain ourselves.
But how can we explain the way we hate ourselves,
the things we've made ourselves into..."
"We are still permanently trapped somewhere between the heroic and the pitiful.
We are still godly;
that's what makes us monstrous."
"We are perfect because of our imperfections.
We must stay hopeful;
We must stay patient -
because when they excavate the modern day
they'll find us: the Brand New Ancients.......
The Gods are all here.
Because the gods are in us."
"you will see the Gods rise
in the most human and unassuming of eyes......
a God knows better than most how to settle for less."
"The gods are in the betting shops
the gods are in the caff
the gods are smoking fags out the back
the gods are in the office blocks
the gods are at their desks
the gods are sick of always giving more and getting less
the gods are at the rave –
two pills deep into dancing –
the gods are in the alleyway laughing
the gods are at the doctor’s
they need a little something for the stress
the gods are in the toilets having unprotected sex
the gods are in the supermarket
the gods are walking home,
the gods can’t stop checking Facebook on their phones
the gods are in a traffic jam
the gods are on the train
the gods are watching adverts
the gods are not to blame –
they are working for the council
now they’re on the dole
now they’re getting drunk pissing their wages down a hole
the gods are in their gardens
with their decking and their plants
the gods are in the classrooms
the poor things don’t stand a chance
they are trying to tell the truth
but the truth is hard to say
the gods are born, they live a while
and then they pass away.....
The gods are on the beach holding hands beneath the stars
the gods are on the streets washing their cars
the gods are visiting their parents, they're talking 'bout the past
helping their new nieces make papier-mache masks
for the school play, the gods can't wait to have a lie in,
the gods are getting on with it, the gods are really trying.
The gods are throwing dirt on the coffin of a loved one,
blaming themselves, wondering what they done wrong;
the gods are in the kitchen making dinner for their mates,but now they've had a row and now they've smashed a couple plates,
the gods are up early again, working late,
standing in a queue feeling sick, got the shakes,
the gods have had enough, they got nothing left to hate,
but they like to watch the sun when it settles on the lake,
the gods are on their knees feeling lost and exhausted,
deadlines, debts, divorces,
forgotten our calling,
forgotten our wisdom,
forgotten how to speak to ourselves, how to listen.
But the gods are in the theaters, the gods are playing strings,
the gods are staring at the trees as they move in the wind,
the gods are right here, as far-fetched as it sounds:
everyone's a god, no kings, no crowns,
just us, one being, infinite and holy,
gods, messed up, lonely,
squashed, stressed out, dumbed down, raging, wasted.....
The gods are singing in the mirrors, but they're not quite up to par
the gods are desperate now - please, they say, I wanna be a star,
the gods are staring at themselves hating everything they see,
they just want to be beautiful, ageless, signed to big
labels with airbrushed bodies that shine golden,
then they can be happy; they just need to get chosen.
So choose us. The gods are on their knees before false idols
saying all I ever wanted was to it to the final.
The gods are waking up and reaching for their partners,
the gods are raising kids doing PhDs and masters.
The gods are having physio, learning how to walk after a fall,
the gods are feeling miserable and they don't know who to call,
the gods are lying on the floor feeling far away and worthless,
the gods have forgotten that they're gods, that they're perfect.
The gods are holding one another in the darkness of the pub,
a god becomes a god when it has got the guts to love.
A god remains a god for ever, no matter what it does,
but still, a god should try and be the kind of god a god can trust.
There are no clear cut definitions of what's just,
every god has got it in them to crush, to be crushed,
to fall, to rise up, to give far too much, to take beyond taking,
to hate, but the main theme is 'great' is a state of mind.
We are ancient, brand new; basic and far beyond making
ourselves into nothing; we need to recognize we're something,
and that we can be the gods we were born to be through loving.
Yes, the gods are on the park bench, the gods are on the bus,
the gods are all here, the gods are in us.
The Gods are timeless, fearless, fighting to be bold,
conviction is a heavy hand to hold,
grip it, winged sandals tearing up the pavement -
you, me, everyone: Brand New Ancients."
September 9, 2024
“he took the eyes from our heads / and blamed us for our blindness”
kae tempest you absolute poetic genius
kae tempest you absolute poetic genius
June 18, 2024
I expect this would be better in performance. On the page, it’s a decent story, with Classical notes, in drab verse.
July 30, 2020
First impression:
This is more a 3.5 but not quite a 4?
Kate Tempest is a very skilled poet with a knack for language, but I wasn't entirely sold on the 'plot' of this long poem and her juxtaposition of ancient heroes and modern-day Londoners.
Full review:
I first came across Kate Tempest’s poetry in 2018, when I bought her collection Running Upon the Wires on a whim. I think I never reviewed that collection; suffice it to say that I enjoyed it, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this review.
The blurb for Brand New Ancients praises Kate Tempest as one of the UK’s most innovative spoken word poets, and for once that praise seems both absolutely genuine and completely appropriate. Kate Tempest is indeed a skilled wordsmith, and Brand New Ancients showcases the full range of her lyrical talent, stylistic repertoire, and linguistic creativity. The long poem chronicles the story of two families in south London and explores everyday heroism, family life, working-class life, the human condition, and myth.
Linguistically, Brand New Ancients is extremely innovative. Tempest uses rhythm, rhymes, different lyrical styles (including rap) and other stylistic devices to great effect. Her poetry flows in a way that translates to the page extremely well but works even better when spoken aloud (as the poem should be, the title page advises). Kate Tempest is also skilled at evoking complete scenes from rather minimalist descriptions and at creating vivid imagery. However, overall Tempest’s style is not so much dense as fast-paced and surprisingly accessible.
The one thing Tempest did not manage to achieve quite so successfully, in my opinion, was the ‘plot’ of her poem and especially its links to ancient heroism. The story of Mary and Brian, Jane and Kevin, and their two sons is dramatic enough to carry the reader through the poem, but it is, in the end, a superficial one. Kate Tempest connects this very familiar tale of love, disillusionment, violence, betrayal, and personal tragedy with the idea of everyday heroism, which she understands as analogous to ancient Greek myth. Tempest’s gods and heroes are the everyday characters, the little people who keep getting up and keep carrying on despite all odds. I really wanted to like this idea but couldn’t help being a bit disappointed in the end because I felt that the two sides of it – the ancient myths and the variations of modern-day heroism – were only loosely connected. An ancient god’s name here, a examination of modern godhood there, but overall much of this analogy, and especially of Tempest’s ancient inspirations, remained unexplored. It is entirely possible that this issue is one I only noticed because I read the poem instead of listening to it being performed; I might not have paid so much attention to the narrative structure otherwise.
Overall, I consider Brand New Ancients a fascinating poem that is best consumed as a performance, but one that impresses more with its style and linguistic competence than its deep insights.
Content warnings: assault, infidelity, alcoholism, poverty, arson
Read if you like: Kate Tempest’s other works (including her music), Bon Jovi’s Living On A Prayer, spoken word poetry
This review was first published on my blog.
This is more a 3.5 but not quite a 4?
Kate Tempest is a very skilled poet with a knack for language, but I wasn't entirely sold on the 'plot' of this long poem and her juxtaposition of ancient heroes and modern-day Londoners.
Full review:
I first came across Kate Tempest’s poetry in 2018, when I bought her collection Running Upon the Wires on a whim. I think I never reviewed that collection; suffice it to say that I enjoyed it, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this review.
The blurb for Brand New Ancients praises Kate Tempest as one of the UK’s most innovative spoken word poets, and for once that praise seems both absolutely genuine and completely appropriate. Kate Tempest is indeed a skilled wordsmith, and Brand New Ancients showcases the full range of her lyrical talent, stylistic repertoire, and linguistic creativity. The long poem chronicles the story of two families in south London and explores everyday heroism, family life, working-class life, the human condition, and myth.
Linguistically, Brand New Ancients is extremely innovative. Tempest uses rhythm, rhymes, different lyrical styles (including rap) and other stylistic devices to great effect. Her poetry flows in a way that translates to the page extremely well but works even better when spoken aloud (as the poem should be, the title page advises). Kate Tempest is also skilled at evoking complete scenes from rather minimalist descriptions and at creating vivid imagery. However, overall Tempest’s style is not so much dense as fast-paced and surprisingly accessible.
The one thing Tempest did not manage to achieve quite so successfully, in my opinion, was the ‘plot’ of her poem and especially its links to ancient heroism. The story of Mary and Brian, Jane and Kevin, and their two sons is dramatic enough to carry the reader through the poem, but it is, in the end, a superficial one. Kate Tempest connects this very familiar tale of love, disillusionment, violence, betrayal, and personal tragedy with the idea of everyday heroism, which she understands as analogous to ancient Greek myth. Tempest’s gods and heroes are the everyday characters, the little people who keep getting up and keep carrying on despite all odds. I really wanted to like this idea but couldn’t help being a bit disappointed in the end because I felt that the two sides of it – the ancient myths and the variations of modern-day heroism – were only loosely connected. An ancient god’s name here, a examination of modern godhood there, but overall much of this analogy, and especially of Tempest’s ancient inspirations, remained unexplored. It is entirely possible that this issue is one I only noticed because I read the poem instead of listening to it being performed; I might not have paid so much attention to the narrative structure otherwise.
Overall, I consider Brand New Ancients a fascinating poem that is best consumed as a performance, but one that impresses more with its style and linguistic competence than its deep insights.
Content warnings: assault, infidelity, alcoholism, poverty, arson
Read if you like: Kate Tempest’s other works (including her music), Bon Jovi’s Living On A Prayer, spoken word poetry
This review was first published on my blog.
May 15, 2020
By all means a lovely read with a wonderful narrative. Tempest really has a knack for rhymes and the book is written in a lyrically interesting and mesmerizing way. The accolades that she received for this long poem is very well deserved.
I can’t really say that I’m that fond of the plot, it’s not bad in any way but after the appraisal that it was given by friends I was expecting more.
Language 5/5
Plot 3/5
I can’t really say that I’m that fond of the plot, it’s not bad in any way but after the appraisal that it was given by friends I was expecting more.
Language 5/5
Plot 3/5
December 29, 2022
Not worth reviewing.
December 9, 2023
This was such a great experience. In the beginning of the poem it says "This poem was written to be read aloud" so that's what I did and the phonaesthetics were so much more tangible by doing so .
October 1, 2024
“ekintza heroiko txikien epopeia” pff apurtu inau
June 19, 2017
Imagine a short story by Charles Bukowski, with shoe-horned attempts to reference the ancients. Sometimes slipping into Dr Seuss.
January 27, 2022
God this is awful
July 8, 2023
UNI BOOK REVIEW:
This book was fire. I really love the parallels between the storyline of the two generations and the one more abstract about the « gods of the every day». Every side was relevant and full of details. I really think it was a great book. And I have to add that reading this book with the author reading it + the music was excellent, it added a real tension, an authentic atmosphere.
This book was fire. I really love the parallels between the storyline of the two generations and the one more abstract about the « gods of the every day». Every side was relevant and full of details. I really think it was a great book. And I have to add that reading this book with the author reading it + the music was excellent, it added a real tension, an authentic atmosphere.
August 15, 2020
Wow, listening to this audiobook performed by author Kate Tempest herself was a pure bliss that I really wish upon EVERYBODY, even my long sworn enemies.
Read
February 25, 2023...hmm.. idk what to rate this because i went into it thinking it was something else. that's entirely my bad.
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