Sad news!
Denis, whose incisive humour and fiery anger created poems and songs against exploitation, greed, tyranny and pretence, passed away 3.30 this morning after a massive heart attack last week.
Denis's words became icons of sense and action across Australia ... from folk clubs to pop groups like Midnight Oil ... and as far afield as Charley Noble's Portland Maine!
I first heard Denis's words on a Gary Shearston LP ... over 40 years ago and they have been there in all the significant struggles since. The 66 years we had of him was not enough.
Requiescat in pace - Bob Bolton
Requiescat in pace is an apt poetic comment for Denis, Bob, I'm sure he he will continue on raging, "upstairs." I remember him in the late 80s, when he came in occasionally to the printing press where I was working as an illustrator. He was getting his poems printed, sometimes in union newspapers, or for other events. He used to stop by for a chat, and the originals of his poems were written on recyled paper - that is, down the sides of newspapers, on the backs of old magazines, every bit of paper that he could find and use.
Here is a poem that Denis wrote on the death of his friend, the violin maker, Johnno Johnson. It could apply to Denis now. - Freda Underhill
A MAN and HIS VIOLINS
John Godschall Johnson
Every violin he has made was a little boat
for children to float on the the sea of their dreams,
each string was a thread in life's labyrinth,
he made them with his hands, and his heart,
seeing the joy in a child's face, as the gift
was passed on, and the little violin was launched —
in the garage where he worked
the spiders spun safe, while he
concentrated on his priceless gifts,
hearing him hum an aria or a melody,
from some famous musician, bringing
the whole world into his backyard workshop;
his heart was a children's playground,
he gave them violins,
he gave them music,
he gave them his heart,
and they took his love
everywhere around the world,
from one room,
where spiders spun
and the sunlight lit the busy tradesmen
spinning the silk from their own marrow,
the silken ripples capturing the light.
Such a man, John Godschall Johnson, does not die,
such a man lives by the joy in a child's face,
in the brisk bow playing a heart warming melody,
in the happiness that music brings;
"Johnno", you need no monument,
no leather bound C.V.,
no medallion,
you are alive in each of these priceless gifts,
in the children's eyes that are the mirrors of your soul,
and in the music that never ends.
Denis Kevans
Portrait, Denis Kevans, National Gallery
Review of Denis' work, Green Left Weekly
Poet Denis Kevans, aiming his satiric barbs at various polluters
Denis was well known for his performance of the following poem. We all knew the important bits, and would join in on all the key words - I can still hear it in my imagination. This is something I will miss. - Jenny O
Concreeto Is Byoo-Tee-Ful!!
Concreeto is byoo-tee-ful !!!!
We need more concreeto in the Blue Mountains,
Because there's a Big Flood coming,
One in a hundred thousand year flood !
Coming tomorrow morning at 6 minutes past seven,
Noah will be "hanging five" on this flood !
We've got to put thirty metres of concreeto on top of the Warra-da-Gamba Dam,
So bush walkers can walk straight up, and straight down,
Saves time walking around the crooked mountains,
Because concreeto is byoo-tee-ful,It's a byo-tee-ful colour grey-ey-ey, nice and smoooothe,
One in a hundred thousand year flood,
One is a very small number, not very attractive,
But 100,000 is fairly attractive, it's one tenth of a million,
And it's easy to make a million these days with the—concreeto—
Because concreeto is byoo-tee-ful, it's a beautiful colour, grey-ey-ey,
Nice and smoo-oothe… cheap to make, dear to sell, I love it---
The Mountains are very crooked, very rough job,
Full of cracks, very rough, rough rocks,
Got to fill it up with the concreeto,
Because concreeto is byoo-tee-ful, it's a beautiful colour…grey-ey-ey…
Nice and smoo-oo-ooth…fill up all the cracks with the concreeto,
Make a nice big wedding cake from Lapstone to Mount Victoria,
Nice and smooooth,
Got to straighten up all the cliffs, with the concrete-eeto,
So the bush walkers won't get eye strain
Looking at the crooked cliffs, make them nice and smoo-ooth,
Nice and square, nice and rectangular with the concree-eeto,
Nice straight cliffs and nice square waterfalls,
Because concreeto is byooteeful, it's a beautiful colour, grey-ey-ey,
Nice and smooooth…..
There's Warra da Gamba, Vasco da Gamba and Viola Da Gamba,
Now Vasco da Gama he circumcised the world,
In a Spanish Galleon! If he had a concrete ship,
He could conquer the whole world, I came, I saw, I con-creeted !!!
Viola Da Gamba, it's a concrete violin,
If you don't like the conductor hit him over the bloody head.
Now we've got five riders in the mountains, the Wollondilly, that's a silly,
The Kedumba, that's a dumb name, the Grose, that's a filthy pooey,
The Cox's that's a pornographic, and the Cowdung…
Got to fill em up with the concreeto, make them nice and straight,
Nice and square, nice and smooooth, so the water can run straight
Up and straight down, no more crooked rivers, so the bushwalkers
Can walk straight up and straight down,
Because concreeto is beautiful…it's a beautiful colour grey-ey-ey…nice and smooooth
Nice and square, nice and straight, with the concree-eeto,
So the bushwalkers can walk straight up and straight down,
Saves time walking round the crooked mountains,
The Wollondilly is Concreeto No 1, The Kedumba Concreeto No 2,
The Grose is Concreeto No 3, The Cox's is Concreeto No 4,
And the Cowdung is Concreeto No 5, nice and smooth, with the concreeto,
Because concreeto is beautiful…it's a beautiful colour, grey-ey-ey, nice and smooooth,
Some people come to the mountains for the O-ZONE
I come for the RE-ZONE..
Some people like the multiplication and division,
I like the multiplication and SUB-DIVISION…
With the concreeto, because concreeto is byooteeful,
It's a byooteeful colour, grey-ey-ey, nice and smooooth,
These bushwalkers say the bush is a "Cathedral Without Walls",
How stupeedo! You've got no walls, we've got the con-creeto !
Because concreeto is byoo-tee-ful, it's a byoo-tee-ful colour, grey-ey-ey,
Nice and smoooothhh....
Denis Kevans
Denis used to recite at the Wisefolk Club in Toon bloody Gabbie and was a delight to hear . He was loved by all of us and will be sorely missed indeed . Will someone write a poem about Denis Kevans? We live in hope . Vale Denis old mate. - AD
. . . and, in less serious moments, gems like "The Bastard Who Squashed the Grapes in Me Bag'.
He can't be replaced. - Hrothgar
He's gone to join his brother Jacko, I guess. Two of them gone in one year. I met both of them at the Newcastle Folk Festivals but I didn't know Denis very well. Always good value, both of them, in their own ways. Kind of an institution in the folk world, really. - Helen
I didn't know Denis very well, or see him very often, but for some reason he started calling me Bernice, then the next few times we met he would say "you're not Bernice"
Now I'll never know if he finally learnt my name.
I've only got one of his books. The friends who gave it to me for my birthday this year were grinning like idiots because they had found it in a second-hand bookshop, inscribed 'To Sandra Best wishes from Denis Kevans" & they thought I must have sold it!
My fading memory says that Concreeto was based on a land developer? - Sandra in Sydney
G'day Sandra,
From what I laughingly refer to as my memory, I seem to have it that the subject of Denis's Conreeto was a builder/developer/local alderman . . . with big plans for the Blue Mountains . . . and his bank account.
Regard(les)s,
Bob
Denis Kevans
Jenny O
Used to enjoy your poems & songs when you came along to the Western Suburbs Folk Club, (Toongabbie Music Club)
We'll miss you Dennis. - Alison
Sad news about a talented man. I remember him from my one and only visit to Australia in 81. Too many good folk are leavong the fold this year. - Burl.
obit. from a long time admirer - Sandra
I am Australia's Lorikeet,
I wrote this very fast.
You are a beaut, I thee salute,
Elizabeth the last.
Denis Kevans
Jenny O
Denis Kevans, Australia's "Poet Lorikeet", was widely known in the Australian folk fraternity as a poet, singer, songwriter and great performer. Like his brother Jacko, Denis spent his early years in the Canberra area and was a regular performer with an emerging Monaro Folk Society. He performed and facilitated workshops at local and national folk festivals from the early 1970s.
Denis leaves behind many friends all over the country, and a small number of very close friends who knew him extremely well. I wasn't fortunate to know him that well. I was however lucky enough to know him as a fellow poet and to share accommodation with him on occasions. My lasting memory of him would be watching him pace nervously outside the "Big Top" at the Jamberoo Folk Festival before he took the stage to perform. Once on stage, of course, he was the ultimate performer. He would usually commence his performances with a handful of hilarious two liners, after which he would launch into one of his exquisite poems. Many of his poems were crowd favourites, none more popular than his environmental, audience participation piece, "Concreto". I have always been in awe of the passion with which he both wrote his poetry and with which he performed it. This ability is rare in any circles.
People often forget that Denis was also a very talented singer and songwriter. Over the years he has often performed his own songs. Much of his work has also been performed by other talented artists, including Sonia Bennett.
Denis will be fondly remembered by all those fortunate enough to have shared a moment or two with him or were touched by the passion of his poetry. For mine, Denis was one of Australia's greatest contemporary poets who never got the national recognition he justly deserved. History, I hope, with our help, will find a place for him up there with the likes of other great Australian poets of the likes of Judith Wright, A.D.Hope and David Campbell.
David Meyers (Shiny Bum Singers)
I felt I knew Denis pretty well before I ever met him, through his poetry. His voice, loud, strong, compassionate, articulate, funny - made me want to meet him. I did, at the National in Sydney in 89. I tagged along with him, got pissed with him, sang his "Collectors" song in the chorus cup with him, and drove him home (pissed, as we often did in those unenlightened days) and we both crashed in his house at Wenty Falls. Since those then I've moved to the UK but we have had occasional contact - sharing songs, fleeting words at festivals, the odd phone call. Although never close friends I continued to admire him. One memorable performance at the Blackheath Folk Club when I was home made me weep with laughter. I think it was also his distinctive Australian tone - fair dinkum, no bullshit, "pin the bastards down and put it up them" attitude that got through to me on that occasion. The bloke was totally human, totally compassionate, and extremely clever with words. That was what made you love him. He wore his fallibility on his sleeve and you respected him because of it. I wrote a poem about him which he always said he liked, and we talked about it in January when I was back in oz. Den will live on through all of us that loved him and his work. All our love to Son and to his family. - Doug Jenner
Didjaknow, they were champions two.
Just rushed out a poem to dennis and jacko, kings of rhyme. Hope to get it right in the next few days. Absolutely bowled out finding this out on the Internet. Fondest regards Sonia and Denis daughter and Jacko's son.
Hope to get down to wake if I'm well enough and there's still a caravan park on the blue mountains. Just learning about the Internet and my email address is cmmnsrbrt@yahoo.com.au. I'm not on the phone anymore and living in Mullumbimby.
It is so important that a real effort be made by Denis's friends to get that biography of the south coast wharfie organiser Ted Roach up and out. For 10-12 years just about every other week on the phone Den and I talked about it and its message. It may well be Denis most important, as it reveals so much of our nationalism and why we are Australians. It is a revelatory piece of justice and class understanding. If I can get someone to scan some pics of the boys I'll send them along. Jeeze this has bowled me.
Please add a verse or two if you think it helps.
didja know he was a champion,
at boarding school the best,
in latin and greek
and football an cricket the star.
didja know he was always true,
sticking by his creed
against all the greed
that's drowning us anew
didja know his feat with ball and bat
50 years on are unequalled,
across the great GPS,
the bursary boy, the wharfie's son.
didja know all the kids loved him
they called him poppa kevans,
and he soothed the loneliness
and created laughter for us all.
didja know we all respected him
as poppa, poet and parrakeet.
jacko the weightlifter champion
muso and dennis the poet freak.
didja know they were heirs
of irish kings of music and song,
and they gave all so grandly
that we may sing along.
didjaknow dennis and jacko
didja catch 'em in the slips,
or did you sing their songs
so sweetly on the lips.
dijaknow 'em on the paddock,
or on the building site
like another lost mate,
the paddington colt, who could fight.
didja know den's engraved
in brass tablets over mountains blue
where the wind sings the brothers'tunes
champions songs ever strong, ever true.
didja know those kings of rhyme,
didjaknow those brothers,
were mates of mine,
didjaknow they were champions two!
bobbi corrorroboree - acka bob cummins
G'day Bob,
Nice to hear from you! Your name came up in talking about Denis, with Bob Foggin, who plays fiddle in the Backblocks Musicians who gather at my place . . . and I mentioned that Brian, my brother had worked with you at the Mirror, back when he was a cadet - and then photographer - for News Ltd.
Regards,
Bob Bolton
I met Denis during the anti-Vietnam war days of the 1960s and published a few of his anti-war poems in the Sydney University student newspaper honi soit. We kept in touch during the ensuing years, mainly via a corespondence scribbled on bits of paper, newspaper clippings, and photocopies of his latest writings. I was also a good stand-by to review his latest book for placement in a union journal.
I realised a long time ago, that Denis, while he does not appear in the Australian literary canon, except occasionally as a passing reference, and while he is not one of the Australian poets who make it regularly into Australian poetry anthologies, he and his work have had a greater exposure to people, and more people have enjoyed his work and been moved by it to action in the name of social justice, than can be said for most most other Australian poets. He was a major literary figure, sidelined by the official guardians of our literary culture. - Rowan Cahill
I got a call yesterday from Rhymin' Simon who told me about Denis's early days in the folk scene. He wasn't sure how his poems would fit in a folk club, but Simon loved them & told him others did too. If it wasn't for Denis's poems, Simon would never have started reciting. Simon is planning to get to the funeral next week, despite his injured back. Bobbi, Bob Bolton read out your poem tonight at the Dog & it was appreciated. - Sandra
Another little gem by Denis.........
Written on the schoolyard wall
where we juniors spent such jolly days
the words
"Christ lives!"
and underneath, the phrase
"there goes the Easter holidays"
I first met Denis at the BMC sometime in the mid to late 80s...he will be very much missed. - Jennie G
I first met Denis at the National Folk Festival in Sydney in April 1988. I remember seeing he and his friends stand up at a concert when American entertainer Christine Lavin was about to appear. We had seen Lavin perform early in the day and thought she was great and was tempted to inform Denis and his friends of the talent they were about to miss.
As it turned out, the walkout was a protest against the festival importing US talent to our home grown festival. Den did a concert that year with John Dengate who used to perform Den's 'Woodchip Man'. On the final day of the festival we were having a singsong around the tent when Den handed his business card to everyone inviting them to 'drop-in any time'. We did - a couple of weeks later and Den fed us, sang us some poetry and we all got drunk on Hunter Old. He looked after us for three days and the second last we heard from him was when we received a copy of 'The Bastard Who squashed the grapes...' book and the last letter we gotg contained an invoice for $10 for the book.
Den old mate - Maxine and I will remember you forever.
Fred Wild
Friends & fans filled the Gaelic club for a preliminary wake this afternoon. They came from all over, including the Central Coast, Albury, & the Mountains, to reminisce & perform. Money was collected to contribute to funeral expenses. Colleen Burke was MC for 6 invited acts, including John Dengate & the Fagans & then opened the mike to anyone.
Funeral announcement from Sydney Morning Herald, 27th August
KEVANS, Peter Denis. Australia's Poet Lorikeet January 15, 1939 August
23, 2005. Loving father of Sophia, uncle of Keiran and Kate, special
friend of Sonia. A true mate to all humanity, to justice and the
Conservation Movement. Lyrebird of the Mountains, our hearts dance to
your sweet song forevermore. The relatives and friends of the late
PETER DENIS KEVANS are invited to attend his Funeral Service, to be
held at Leura Memorial Gardens and Crematorium, Kitchener Road, Leura,
on Saturday (September 3, 2005) commencing at 10.30 a.m. Entrusted to
the Care of Leura Memorial Gardens 4784 3399 4751 8000 Proudly
Australian Owned
There will be a wake after the funeral.
Sandra
Priest (written about Denis Kevans, 1990)
I know a little writer,
he's a humorous sort of sod,
and he says he's off religion
but I know he close to god
Cause he worships at the public bar
and with the people there
he sings a song and has a joke,
and quotes his book of prayer.
And like most priests there is a time
when he is all alone,
and he thinks of bloody awful things
for which we must atone,
and like most priest there is a time
when vision nears despair,
when he grasps for solid gospel
and clutches empty air,
and like some priests there is a time
when voices like a choir
inflame his tinder spirit
and set his soul on fire...
then you'll find him with his faithful,
with psalms and songs and beers
celebrating joyfully,
as his eyes brim up with tears.
Doug Jenner
I believe we have some Lorikeets flying local this summer. They nest in the palms and squak as they fly. - anon
My wife and I were honored to meet Denis a few years ago in Blackheath where we heard him deliver "Concreeto" and I can still hear those attending responding with "smooth and lovely!" I sang Denis my Portland's Working Waterfront" version of his old Woolloomooloo anti-urban renewal song. Here are some of my notes:
Across the Western Suburbs (Words by Denis Kevans and Seamus Gill © 1973 Tune: traditional All for Me Grog)
In the early 1970's the inner city neighborhood of Woolloomooloo in Sidney, Australia, was threatened by massive urban renewal. The resistance by the residents; the cooperation gained from the building and trades union; the roles of the politicians, real estate speculators, and city planners; the battles with goon squads and with the police; is all effectively presented in the documentary film Woolloomooloo. Sydney poet Denis Kevans and Builders Laborers organizer Seamus Gill were in the thick of the fight and livened things up with such great songs as this one, patterned after the old sailors drinking song "All for Me Grog."
Oh, me name it is Fred,
In Sydney born and bred,
And the inner-city used to be my home, boys,
But it's caused me heart to grieve
For I've had to take me leave,
Now across the Western Suburbs I must roam, boys.
Chorus:
Under concrete and glass,
Sydney's disappearing fast;
It's all gone for profit and for plunder;
Though we really want to stay,
They keep driving us away,
Now across the Western suburbs we must wander.
Now where is me house,
Me little terrace house?
It's all gone for profit and for plunder,
For the wreckers of the town
Just came up and knocked it down;
Now across the Western Suburbs we must wander. (CHO)
Before I even knew it,
We were shifted to Mount Druitt,
And the planners never gave me any say, boys;
Now it really makes me weep,
I am just at home to sleep
For it takes me hours to get to work each day, boys. (CHO)
What's happened to the pub,
Our little local pub,
Where we used to have a drink when we were dry, boys?
Now we can't get in the door
For there's carpets on the floor,
And you won't be served a beer without a tie, boys. (CHO)
Now I'm living in a box
In the West Suburban blocks,
And the place is nearly driving me to tears, boys;
Poorly planned and badly built
And it's mortgaged to the hilt,
But they say it will be mine in forty years, boys. (CHO)
Now before the city's wrecked,
Those developers must be decked,
For it's plain to see they do not give a bugger;
And we soon will see the day
If those bandits have their way,
We will all be driven out past Wagga Wagga.
We'll not soon forget the like of Denis Kevans!
Charley Noble
Interesting, it also fits (with a shoehorn!) to The Swaggies Dream! - Foolestroupe
To the man who introduced a bunch of Greek mountain kids to the pleasures of Coogee Beach, THANK YOU. - Vicky, Eleny, Spiros and Yiannis Tzioumis
Maree and I were very upset to hear of Denis' death while we are in Tokyo on a research project.
We both have known him for the biggest part of out lives and have many memories of him over the years. Denis, a unique poet, was often simply astonishing in performance. Who could forget his Concreto at the Chris Kempster tribute concert at New Theatre?
Recently I have been immersed in the study of Australian Union Songs. Denis was not just a fount of information in my chosen topic but a most important composer of the material I was trying to grapple with, In every decade from the 1950s Denis wrote dozens of poems and songs that fitted my brief, the songs and poetry of the Australian labour movement. Denis was a particularly strong presence in the Mountains and it is hard to accept not being able to see him.
Mark Gregory and Maree Delofski
btw there is a very detailed article about Denis in the latest Workers Online.
To feel sad for those that were close to you, or to congratulate them that they were. For certain there were many close to you at the service today, and what a wonderful service!! a celebration of your life. As it should be.
I never knew you well, but we had long talks over the years - you were a great listener . . . my son still loves Concreto and will perform it whenever he has the opportunity, we have the copy you sent.
Take care
Gina
I have a truly BEAUTFUL PHOTO of Denis from when he was in Nimbin at his little brother's funeral.
I would love to pass it on. (also, ones with his niece and nephew.)
Please send me an email and I will send it back.
He is soft and sweet in it, I'd like everyone who loved him to have it.
My email address is yewspirit1@bigpond.com.au
(not 100% sure of 'au' on the end, try )
My heart felt sympathy to all Denis' loved ones.
Such a softy!
Eye's like pools of laughter.
I'm so sorry I didn't get to pass on these photo's to him in person.
But them's the breaks!
It would good for it to appear on here, but I don't know how to do it.
Perhaps there's a way, anyone?
I sang " Mosses Gentle Fingers" at a workshop I attended after Denis recorded the tune for me in his home in Wenty. He always was very sweet in remembering me after that.
Just wish I'd seen him again after Nimbin.
Glenys and I knew Denis for only a short while, but felt priveleged to have known him. He was a truly gentle, caring, insightful soul. The World is a lesser place with his passing. - Kevin & Glenys Murray
Jefferson Lee's obituary for Denis Kevans has just today appeared on the Sydney Morning Herald's website:
(It's a pity that, at the end, 2 lines of verse seem to be tangled up with other details.) - Sandra