DR. MAD VIBES' COMPREHENSIVE LINKOLOGY

by Angelo Moore

There are a number of writers and poets swimming in the music industry cesspool: Patti Smith, the great whale in that pool, Jim Morrison, the floating goldfish eaten by the others. Henry Rollins, the over-fed, yet surprisingly musical shark who nips at Eddie Vedder, the whiny guppie who's too sensitive, even to other poets. Now, Fishbone singer/saxophonist Angelo Moore has finally self-produced a book of his poetry (spanning 1984-1993), which for years he's recited to audiences, band members and anyone willing to lend an ear.

Divided into eleven chapters, Linkology features not only Moore's poetry, but drawings and photographs as well (my personal favorite being a childhood picture of Moore with Jheri curl).

You'll notice immediately that Moore has a passion for random phonetic spelling (a la Nikki Giovanni). Plus, he's an obvious follower of the call-'em-as-you-see-'em philosophy. Like Gil Scott-Heron's many names for Ronald Reagan (Ray-gun, Hollyweird), Moore does the same for L.A. (Lost Assholes) and other places that don't live up to their names.

Some of Moore's alliterated lines are quite good, particularly "Pessimizm"'s opening line: "Pessimizm pickin at my penis prodding at my peace pokin at my positive preservation reservoir." Whether from writer's block or simple frustration, Moore doesn't continue what he's good at. I imagined a poem of five stanzas, each section alliterated to spell out P-E-N-I-S, only to be drawn into a completely different style and rhythm.

Moore is strongest when he abandons rhyme and other conventions of poetry and writes prose. Check out "Police Truck," an expressive piece that juxtaposes animal nature and human nature with its unfortunate failings; and "But This White," a seething indictment of European racism couched in a dream of Eden.

Most disturbing is Moore's chapter 7, titled "Hos & Bitches." The poem "Titty Bar," which is actually exposing male sexual weakness and guilt, is a sexist diatribe against a stripper. Adhering to the typical madonna/whore dichotomy, it ends, "I'll never think about marrying her 'cause I be flat broke at the titty bar."

Much more conscious is "Surface Bitches." Unfortunately mistitled (the appropriate title lying within the poem), Moore realizes that in order for "surface bitches" to exist, there has to be someone out there (i.e. men) encouraging and promoting such behavior. "Money don't mean a thing, brothers stop droolin' in your lust pool of drool/Sistahs check out to see if he's REALLY cool/Cause when you come down to earth and look at it/The surface person barrels down to a big bucket/SHIT." (emphasis added)

Achingly passionate, Moore is posed 24-7, ready to recite, re-structure, ad lib (I've read interviews where Moore answers questions with a poem). He's honestly trying to convey himself and be heard. What you get for this honesty is funny, sad, impressive, maddening and fun to read. (Barbara Beebe)

(Available from Angelo Moore at Fishbone gigs or by writing the Fishbone Familyhood, P.O. Box 351444, Los Angeles, CA 90035.)

Go to Stay Free! #6 Table of Contents.