Let me
begin with the biography she forwarded to me in her first letter, as
well you can read some more about her at her page:
"Ethereal
is breaking away
from the progressive rock sound of her debut album, Mythillogical and
penning her lyrics to a darker, more gothic sound on her upcoming
album, Albatross.
Ethereal began as a poet and her muse grew
into a more lyrical style
when she joined a cover band in 2002 as a back-up singer. The band
barely made it out of the garage before she decided to begin writing
her own songs. Three years later, she released her debut album
Mythillogical under the Myopicat Records label.
After a falling out with her label, Ethereal decided
to take the
opportunity to explore the realms of trance and electronica, a sound
that had been driving her for years. Now, working with musician
and talented mixer, Terrence Town, formerly
of Rosewater Elizabeth, Ethereal has been able to blend her
thought-provoking lyrics to the sound she's always wanted.
For more information on Ethereal, please visit:
http://www.myspace.com/etherealvox.
"
Ethereal - Above Ground Testing Interview

-
First of all, who is Ethereal
I am a writer before all
else. I was born to write
and create and every year that goes by brings me closer to my
passion. I am able to hear more clearly the message that I'm
supposed to bring to the world. That may make me sound a bit like "Joan
of Arc"�, **laughs** but every soul has a message to bring
from The Other Side. I am a vessel for the muses. I do not so much
write the songs as they write me. Sometimes I like to call myself "The
Professional Muse Interpreter"� or "The One Woman Army".
They both sum me up pretty well in that "bumper-sticker" sort of
way.
-
You mention in your
biography that you were a poet; when did you start writing and
what were your early sources of inspiration?
I started writing poetry
when I was about 16. I
remember having a crush on somebody at summer camp and he was a poet.
I used to read his stuff all the time and in trying to impress him, I
started writing it...and found I could actually do it! **laughs**
It's amazing what you'll do to impress somebody you have a crush
on but I'm eternally grateful because it's how I discovered the
talent. My earliest and current source of inspiration is passion. If
I am passionate about a person, a place or a subject matter, that is
what fuels me as a poet.
-
Then
after a time you decided to become a songwriter. What led you to
writing lyrics and how does this compare to writing poetry? Is it
harder? Easier? And what do you have to do that is different?
The difference
between writing poetry and
writing songs is akin to the difference between hanging out at
Woodstock and attending a fancy black-tie affair. At Woodstock,
everybody is smoking funny cigarettes and making love. It's a very
open, free-spirited feeling. When you go to a black-tie affair,
you're dressed up and you're having fun but your shoes might be a
little too tight. It's because you have to cram all of yourself
into a tight little black dress and ¾" heels instead of just
letting "it all hang out"� so to speak. Since I've always been a
free-verse poet, I never felt concerned about getting my emotions to
fit into any rhyme and meter. Now as a songwriter, you have to do
that. You have only so many lines for the lyrics to go in. You've
got the first verse, which begins the story, the chorus that moves it
along and so on, so there is a structure there that takes discipline.
Poetry and song lyrics are both difficult and easy, actually. It just
depends on how they come to you. They're both a challenge in their
own way.
-
Tell me about
your first album, what was the message you were hoping to convey and
did you feel the endeavor was a success?
Mythillogical
was a concept album
revolving around the process of my coming out and dealing with the
pain of being in an emotionally abusive relationship. My first album
was a very internal process. I dealt with the end of the relationship
as well as other issues surrounding me at the time using the album as
the medium. I feel the endeavor was a personal success. It was better
received in The Netherlands and England because of its progressive,
experimental musical style. It was, however, a limited edition album
and I was unable to promote it in the way I would have liked on
account of a parting with my record label. .
-
You've got a new CD coming out, when
and what can we expect?
The
upcoming album, Albatross is a project that I am very
excited about. I have shed the progressive rock sound and am diving
deep into the underworld of dark-wave and electronica. When I first
conceived to write an album, this is the sound I was hearing in my
head. I believe I've better honed my craft of as a lyricist and
vocalist and it's an honor to work with such a talented musician
and producer as Terrence Town. His mind works the same musically as
mine does lyrically so it's a wonderful artistic partnership. The
album will be out in the spring of 2007. I expose myself more in this
album with songs like "Baby Blue"revolving around my abusive
childhood and "The Devil's Hand" which tells the tale of what
it is like to be brainwashed. I also humbly open myself up to be the
vessel and wear the "Albatross"for the voices of others as well.
Some of the songs are written for specific people in my life and
others for muses that have long since passed. We have analogue
equipment dating back to the seventies in the studio that we mix with
electronic beats from today so we're definitely out to create a
very experimental yet accessible electronic/dark-wave sound.
-
You've been using podcasts to get
the message out about you and your work, how successful has it been and
would you consider this method an important avenue for other indie
artists to use.
I
would definitely recommend podcasts for independent artists to get
the word out about their music. It's a wonderful avenue and not
only does it
expose your
music but you have the opportunity to meet
the most amazing people who not only play your music but may offer
you another route to explore as well. For example, I have had my
music played in an online game called "Second Life". The
podcaster just happened to like my sound and asked my permission to
include it in the game! I've also had a very unique request that
one of my songs be added as a soundtrack to a skateboarding video but
I've yet to see that. I'd like to though, that would be cool!
-
On your
myspace.com site you feature the song "This is Rome", to be honest this
has become a favorite song of mine. Tell me about the song, what
was the inspiration and what was your message.
Ahh, "This is Rome".
That girl had been
sitting around in my head for about a year and was just kind of
teasing me like, "oh, don"t worry, I'l come, eventually."No need to
mince words here. I may fly under the radar with my songs
but let's face it; "This is Rome" is about The President of the
United States. (Looks around quickly). Oh man, I thought I saw the
Secret Service! In all seriousness, "This is Rome" is a song
about absolute power corrupting absolutely. When any human being or
city becomes too powerful, that person or city will fall. It's just
that simple. And like I say in the song, "what goes around, comes
around"� and "what we don't learn, we are doomed to repeat." I
compare The President to Caesar and the United States to Rome because
there are some alarming similarities. If you look back in history, we
have done this time and time again. Don't get me wrong though, I
have faith in humanity that we will get it right,eventually. I've
also been honored by having the song featured on Neil Young's
website promoting the top 600 "Songs
of the Times" An astounding number of independent
and mainstream artists are speaking out in ways we haven't seen
since the sixties. You know something must be done if everywhere from
rap to electronica, you're hearing one united voice basically
saying,"STOP"�
-
Now you're a
published author. Tell me about your story, the compilation it is
appearing in and how was it to write?
I'm so happy you
mentioned that. **smiles** I'm
very proud of my new accomplishment as a writer. The story is called,
"Room for Rent" and it is published in the new GLBT anthology,
Queer
Shorts released in September of 2006 by Merge Press.
The story revolves around a young woman who moves into an apartment
with whom she believes to be a gay male and becomes very attracted to
him, only to find out there is much more to her roommate than she
would have imagined. It's a poignant love story dealing with the
transgender and butch/femme community and how the characters further
each other's growth through mutual acceptance. The butch/femme and
transgender community is still on the "outskirts" of the Gay and
Lesbian community and I am honored to be able to put a spotlight on
such a relationship through my writing and help spread awareness of
this type of diversity. Writing "Room for Rent" was a lot of fun
actually. When I put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard, usually
it's my characters that tell me what's going on and there are
just some funny scenes that just sort of popped out that had me
laughing out loud and moments that had me tearing up. It was a very
emotional experience, as though I were not creating these characters,
but merely telling their story and experiencing it with them.
Is
there anything you
would like to add?
Yes. Just a few tips
I've picked up along the
road of life so far. Watch the movie, "The Secret" Read the
"Conversations with God"series no matter what religion you are
and above all, learn to love. I mean that in an all-encompassing way.
Learn to love and tolerate even the people you feel you can't
stand. It will do a lot of good for this world and for you.
Thank you Ethereal
Poetry
The first poet for October is Jeff
Williams:
Appearances
I thought he was sexy
But he wasn't homosexual
I thought he was dumb
But he was an intellectual
I prayed for his soul
But he was an atheist
I bought him a drum
But he was a bassist
I bought him a car
But he couldn't drive
I gave his dog a bone
But it wasn't alive
I bought him a book
And I couldn't believe
I thought he was smart
But he couldn't read
By:
J. Williams
Les Wicks sent a number of works a
couple of months ago, here's a few. By the way Les, how was
Canada?
GONE
You
were either a sprawling building site
(a
whole new suburb being built)
or a
bottle shop.
Two
options, either side of an overcrowded road
on an
indifferent day
quartered
by flight paths.
You'd
be mildly offended by either analogy -
being
always blue and white, spectrum
of a
breaking wave.
Your
life was cluttered with grids,
phosphor
glow at interstices - plans for plans -
saving
the weeds while planting for growth.
I’d
live in your postcode.
To
write yours or any life
involves
wrecking, disguise.
Our
tools are sometimes blunt,
I won't
dare the whole truth.
Because
you are also racks of bright bottles,
so much
all pissed away
slab
after slab.
But
sometimes those rich mineral nights
where
wine is punctuation,
the
frame that brings the pigment
screaming
to the eye.
Fearless
for a human
you
showed off all the bitter truths,
learnt
to love them as we climbed above the middens looked out
to
fluorescent ocean night.
Didn't
shed the skin so easily.
Snagged
by friends, your last word was “poetry"…
was it
begging, a promise or summary?
Immaculate,
corny as breath.
You are
now three wrapped packages of cinders, waiting to be spread.
No more
rust, or fire. I was there
when
you gave up walking, later
food
was finally left behind
(I had
a sausage roll that day…
seductive
envelope, narratives of salt and spices -
a hint
of Vietnam - I remember
that
meal above all others
the
crescendo of a New Sun Hot Bread vanilla slice, Orchy
orange juice -
its
feral abundance of pulp).
You
could once play tirelessly in any sandpit. No more stone,
you
longed for paper
got
scissors.
In the
end, snipped away,
there
was so little to farewell;
our own
grief crowded the stage.
Your
weak, irregular snores were a walk-on role.
The
eulogies were just buckets for our tears.
My
picture is darker, wilder
weakness
and wonder.
Starlings
and parrots roosting in one tree…
can't
disturb one
without
the other.
You
were lazy
as life
is pointless and waiting to be picked up
by any
truly open eye.
A brush
was dipped in that eye
shipwrecks
slapstick
or sandstone. You never left an empty plate
when
tint was on the menu.
Didn't
help anyone that much
including
yourself.
We
listened to each other over decades
with no
negotiated agreement.
That
was a sacrament
which
will never come again.
Stagnant
rockpools are a silence
or
solace.
The day
we scatter you
I am
hoping for a breeze,
a real
blowback at the cliff.
Want
subtle stains on brightly mourning cotton,
a
tickle in the lungs.
To
irritate as one flies
is no
small goal, 21 cough salute.
I'll
carry you home again.
Les
Wicks
DEARLY DEMENTED at the SUNDOWNER NURSING HOME
1. BIRTHDAY DAY
Pollock lipstick
vagabond slippers,
the snug imprisonment of tracksuits
smeared with 11:30
soft-diet lunch.
Begin to hope the
progress
behind
pharmacological ramparts.
The real medicine is
touch
all other expertise
unnecessary.
I am now a fixture
here
the nurses chat at
visits, even read my books
between wiping bums
and perennially guiding Tommy back to bed.
Clinical notes
recorded on the verge -
chasms of new
molecules, pneumonic harmonica and missing teeth.
I sing along at this
birthday party
when everybody else
thinks it’s theirs.
Cordial and cake fly
like confetti
slow motion
kindergarten.
There's the bazaar
worth of plots afoot
scheming over
nothing
stolen glasses
or dentures. Pirates are aloft in the
rigging of their wheelchairs/
aluminium
walking-frames glint dangerously in a
gatecrashed sunlight
that cranks gaiety to a cackled fever.
2. PICK ME UP
Each visitor is like
a death, still hanging on
rusted to every
mother as she’s caught keening into where.
The constant spatter
of TVs
worlds coming in to
seduce away facts
that have still
clung on
(steel hooks in the
cerebellum).
Always music
somewhere
cassette recordings
of pianos built with ceramic tiles instead of strings
Underneath the Arches
We’ll Meet Again
(and
just once My Generation sent a ripple of fear
through
attendant babyboomers).
The heart patch of
fort nursed,
mouths open like day
eyes turn tail in
prayer
for this week's
Dearly Departed.
3. KIND REGARDS
My mother is “such
a lady”
and they love her in
the way
of pedestrian
driftwood, stars and paper cuts.
The dependable burn
of cigarettes,
flags of clarity and
abyss, alternate horrors each
in separate ways.
Time as soil erosion.
Some kind of word in
a sleeping night.
Commonwealth Care
Standards
and the guilt of
children.
Nothing here is
unmanaged
yet there's a kind
of anarchy,
painted over every
three months and
marked on coloured
charts.
Families play a
hackneyed role -
their fret, love
and secret wishings.
It washes over staff
who've seen it before.
There are always
better,
always worse actors
for these parts.
It's a
morality play
written
in DNA
‘cause Mum's
dementia
will probably be our
inheritance.
Partners and doctors
monitor afternoon snores,
measure our decay.
4. LOST POST
This is
some kind of harvest
old
flesh on brittle bones
and grey
wheat above
episodic
eyes.
Who
says death is better?
Most of
us
(today-
tinned salmon in a weak tomato sauce).
Usually not the
residents
rusted in
sometimes even the
mad, tender collegiality
of senescent love
affairs -
even though she
calls him
by another name and
his face
is netted alongside
unrelated memories.
In the sound of the
sun,
every day is new.
Ambulances arrive
more regularly than
friends -
there's the thrill
of the ride
beneath panic, balms
and the silent rite
of agony.
These veterans wear
their ribbons of scars.
Pain management.
Come half past five
everyone breathes easier, a sort of tranquillity,
when That Bloody
Olga starts nodding off.
Previously
published in Cordite (Australia)
Dr. Charles Frederickson is our next
poet:
Sui Generis
1.
At first reclaiming longsome decades
Digging deeply through childhood
wonder
Flipping pages corners turned back
Things seemingly lost actually were
Still trying to act astonished
Faking surprise party wide-eyed glee
Unsure what destiny wills next
At last better come soon
2.
Live life up not down
Make a lasting contribution
impressively
Giving of yourself for others
Sharing while caring about humanity
Live so that you have
A great past lying ahead
Present continuous risk taking
derring-do
Future dependant on will power
Strange Birds
1.
Tristan’s grackle iridescent black
plumage
Bent-kneed Stork tipped feathery white
Sinai Rosefinch bill crackling seeds
Yellow-vented Bulbul fabled Persian
nightingale
Short-toed Eagle clipped trim glide
Palestinian Sunbird radiating fiery
sparks
Cooing Turtle Doves emblematizing
peace
Unfurled rainbow euphonic Warbler
harmony
2.
Wild Skylarks overcoming groundless
fears
Above all else constant flight
Cagey natural instincts barring
confinement
Destined to remain soaring forevermore
Melodious Songbirds teach whistler
know-how
Attuned ears recalling fluttery trill
Music breaking silence plucked
heartstrings
Measures of joy without rests
Gadfly
1.
Hooked-beak hypocrites pose as eagles
Gaze focused on dovecote roost
Male horseflies feed on pollen
Sip nectar females suck blood
Mealtime for fluffy eaglet aerie
Talons swooping black speck prey
Summer hot with pesky flies
Ticklish scorched hairs clogging
nostrils
2.
Hang gliding above own shadow
Molted feather wafting downward thrust
Tormenting flies assault mucous
membrane
Trapped within stuffed up sinus
Stoically avoiding the reeking herd
Eagles generally fly alone whereas
Crows and starlings flock together
Dreams enabling fake-believers to fly
Purple Orchids
1.
Clay pots filled with resistance
Soiled tentacular roots shaken loose
Straggly transplants awaiting re-dug
grave
Forced indoors bypassing outsider
nature
Woven hammocks teak rafter suspended
Swooning rapture drowsy hemlock trance
Mesmeric appeal for tender mercy
Rebuffing like every other similitude
2.
Lavender every imaginable purple shade
Soaking up ravishing beauty accolades
Tucked in decaying organic compost
Sung rockabye baby nursery cradlesongs
Phallic charm on the blink
Unisex amulet warding off evil
Fluttery eyelashes flicking stymied
flies
Unchangeable leopard sunspots freckly
specks
Dr. Charles Frederickson
Adapted Thai poEtpourri structural scheme
4-line 20-word write on stanzas
Befitting offbeat reason without rhyme
Un-author-ized style consciously punctuation free
Dr. Charles
Frederickson
239 Soi Asoke; #5B
Bangkok 10110
Thailand
(02)261-2068
charles_frederickson@hotmail.com
Dr. Charles
Frederickson is a Swedish-American-Thai progressive visionary, feisty
dybbuk and passionate do-gooder who has wandered intrepidly through 206
countries, an original sketch and poem for each presented on http://www.imagesof.8k.com. This
e-gadfly is a member of World Poets Society, based in Greece, with 100+
poetry publication credits on 5 continents, including: Ascent
Aspirations, Auckland Poetry, Blind Man’s Rainbow, Both Sides Now,
Caveat Lector, Cordite Poetry Review, Dance to Death, Decanto, Flutter
Magazine, Fullosia Press, Greatworks, Green Dove, Indite Circle,
International Poet, Listen & Be Heard, Living Poets, Madpoetry,
Melange, Newtopia, New Verse News, Peace Not War Japan, Planet
Authority, Poetry Canada, Poetry of Scotland, Poetry Stop, Poets for
Peace, Poetry Superhighway, Pyramid, Sz, The Smoking Poet, Ygdrasil,
Ya’Sou! and Zafusy.
I
feature a new poet with this issue, the person is Cinnary. Here
are the two works submitted:
Black
Orchid
In
solitude, the mimosa rises in hopes of
catching
your dramatic presentation.
Sunlight
splinters into kaleidoscope shards
as
it finds you in an unrobed window,
to
touch your face of creamy velvet.
Your
limbs awake and spread in hues
of
dusk before dawn, no one marking
the
contradistinction of ebony upon black.
Pinches
of peony pink grace your cheeks
with
highlights of spun gold.
New
birth unfurls beneath your glory
showing
their colors of sprightly spring green,
as
they tip their heads downward.
Shy,
and startled from slumber by prismatic
panes of spider web, laden
with dew.
No e's
So
soft and unassuming
Your
truth unknown
Bound
by faults that control no
Wanton
display of amorous sin
Captions
from lips drift
In
mid air, floating on clouds
Of
untruths and daring acts
Within
a soul of brass.
Pools
of brown orbs look
Into
a mirror, placating your
Rills
of unknown fury falling
From
a catchall tomb.
Absorb
my light, my soul song,
Drown
my sorrows in your hands,
Honor
my truth,
For
you do not own any.
Cinnarry
cinnarry@yahoo.com
NEWS FROM THE 'ZINE
Dina Televitskaya has just published a collection of her poetry.
The chapbook is called It Is
Necessary to Live!. It is published through Borey Art
Centre, St. Petersburg Russia. Send her an email for more
information.
Closing Words
This has been a great couple
of weeks, and with a break in the action I can put this ezine
together. I'm a Tigers
fan and they've been on an incredible run during the 2006
playoffs. In fact they are American League Champions and are
simply waiting for the National League to decide who will face them for
the World Series.
With this news, I conclude the issue. Enjoy reading the interview
and the poetry. I'll look forward to your comment and works for
the next issue.
As always, the works contained are copyrighted by the authors, respect
their works.
www.abovegroundtesting.com
paul@abovegroundtesting.com