
It’s alphabetized under Klark and not Kent
because this is more of a project name
than it is the name of an artist. It is the
pseudonym, the stage name, the appellation,
the moniker, the sobriquet, used on the
first solo album by the most famous
drummer of the most famous band of
the 80’s, one of my heroes of rock, one
Stewart Copeland from The Police. As
far as I know, this record, released in
1980 at the height of Police dominion,
has been out of print for decades, and
I lost my copy in the great vinyl purge
of 1988, but three years ago,
I think, it became available again on
Record Store Day, 2023.
As Klark Kent, Stewart Copeland,
performing all the instruments, writes
angsty, snotty, snarky, and inescapably
catchy pop music. It’s possible (easy) to
recognize the drumming, and if you’ve
heard the Stewart songs that appear
every once in a blue moon on The Police
albums, you’ll recognize that untrained,
imprecise and silly voice. Musically,
this is not a Police record. It’s raw,
under-produced, full of spit and vinegar,
tremendously fun, and lyrically wacky.
It’s a punk album performed by a super
talented musician. The eight songs on
this short album, two instrumentals
and six vocal tunes, simply fly by.
You will want to play it again immediately
after hearing it for the first time.
Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat.
O Superman.
Notes on the vinyl edition: Klark Kent, BMG Records, 2023 (reissue of the 1980 album), translucent green vinyl.
In case you don’t already know: I’m listening to almost everything in my vinyl collection, A to Z, and writing at least one, sometimes two or three long skinny poem-like-things in response for each artist, and on a few occasions, writing a long skinny poem-like-thing in response to more than one artist. As a poet and a student of poetry, I understand that these things look like poems, but they don’t really sound much like poetry, hence, I call them “poem-like-things.” I’ll admit that they’re just long, skinny essays that veer every now and then into the poetic or lyric.