or,
Miss Dermark's 2015 Advent Calendar
DAY THREE
DISSES
or,
HOW TO DISS ONE'S OPPONENTS DERMARK STYLE
Today, we'll be looking at disses, showing you my Othello parody, a rap battle I have written, and one of my favourite Swedish songs done into English (by myself): Evert Taube's "Seventeenth Ballad", written in his youth as a bohemian... a caustic, Voltairian "take that" at Stockholm high society that has had an interesting history as a song.
First we'll look at Othello: the Shakespearean play, Charles Lamb's short story, Boito's libretto, Kalbeck's translation of said libretto into German, and my own parody, the Travesty. To see how Iago disses Cassio in all of these versions and how I manufactured my own Dermark brand of Iago's rant of disses to Cassio:
SHAKESPEARE:
A fellow almost damn'd in a fair life;
That never set a squadron in the field,
Nor the division of a battle knows
More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric,
Wherein the toged consuls can propose
As masterly as he: mere prattle, without practise,
Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election…
He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,
And I--God bless the mark!--His Moorship's ensign.
This promotion gave great offence to Iago, an older officer who thought he had a better claim than Cassio, and would often ridicule Cassio as a fellow only for the company of ladies, and one that knew no more of the art of war or how to set an army in array for battle, than a girl. Iago hated Cassio, and he hated Othello as well for favouring Cassio, as for an unjust suspicion, which he had lightly taken up against Othello that the Moor was too fond of Iago’s wife Emilia.
BOITO:
Quell'azzimato capitano usurpa
il grado mio, il grado mio che in cento
ben pugnate battaglie ho meritato;
tal fu il voler d'Otello,
ed io rimango
di sua Moresca Signoria.... l'alfiere!
KALBECK:
das aufgestutzte Offizierchen,
Verdrängte mich vom Platz, von meinem Platz,
Den ich in hundert ehrlich geschlag'nen Schlachten
Verdiente. Das war das Werk Othellos.
Ich bin der Fähnrich seiner Mohrenschaft
geblieben.
THE TRAVESTY:
IAGO (to himself): I have fought by his side in countless battles, on the frontline itself, risking life and limb by his side, and yet... (Pause.) That frilly little upstart... that stripling of this new kind of "educated officers", who knows as much of tactics as a novice in a nunnery... has just usurped the rank which is mine by right! He should rather die! Er... Why not? (He gives the audience a mean death glare)
And there you have it. The Shakespearean mention of Cassio as a book-learned officer without the field experience Iago has, scare-quoted for irony; the "frilly little (officer)" from Kalbeck's translation; the word "stripling" for a young man, especially a slender and/or feminine seeming one, which I learned from a Joyce story (used to describe English artiste Weathers, one of my favourite Joyce characters); and "upstart", which, referring to Cassio as a newcomer suddenly risen to power, has all the connotations of a slur. How eclectic a combination! As for Cassio's field experience... Shakespeare compares it to an old maid's, Lamb's to a young girl's, while my Iago goes the extra mile by comparing it to a novice nun's, quoting à propos a verse from the Modern Major General Song in The Pirates of Penzance. The climax, the jewel of the crown, comes from Iago saying Cassio "has usurped the rank which is mine by right." the use of "usurp", a pretty loaded verb, is from Boito's libretto, while Iago's entitlement and defense of his claim recall Stannis Baratheon's attitude towards his brother Renly ("The Iron Throne is mine by right."). There you have my version of the lieutenancy rant, an eclectic, intertextual, intelligent, ironic, and savvy rant so typical of the Travesty Iago.
Now on to the next example: Joffrey "Baratheon" vs. Dellinger.
Honestly, rap battles haven't been my cup of tea until, a month ago, I saw Romeo and Juliet vs. Bonnie and Clyde. Then came Julius Caesar vs. Shaka Zulu, Marilyn Monroe vs. Cleopatra, Asian philosophers vs. Western philosophers, Shakespeare vs. Doctor Seuss, Gandalf vs. Dumbledore, Rasputin vs. Stalin (feat. Lenin, Gorbachov, and Putin), Donald Trump vs. Ebenezer Scrooge (feat. J.P. Morgan as the Ghost of Xmas Past, Kanye West as Xmas Present, and the Grim Reaper as Xmas Future), Mrs. Claus vs. Mary Poppins (feat. Santa and Bert), Maleficent vs. Daenerys, and most recently Hermione vs. Katniss.
Why I chose Joffrey and Dellinger? Because they're uncannily similar and yet foils to one another. Both of them are arrogant blond male teenage sociopaths, yet there are contrasting differences: Joff is the fruit of twincest, while Dellinger is half-human (and half-fishman). Joff had a tough childhood with his dysfunctional royal family, while Dellinger was happily adopted since early infancy by a pirate crew/syndicate. Joff is always sharply dressed, while Dellinger wears pretty eccentric attire (a baseball cap, a turtleneck, shorts, and... stiletto heels?). Joff sticks to gender roles, while Dellinger was raised as a girl and, though identifying himself as male, is pretty effeminate. Moreover: Dellinger's pumps are purple just like Joffrey's wedding, and he's got an attack called Decapitation High Heel, which can reference the fate of Ned Stark (for revealing Joff's true parentage)... and Dellinger is horned, while Joff wears a crown of antlers (referring to his "Baratheon" heritage, but also subtly to his own bastardry and "los cuernos" Cersei put on Robert). Also, Dellinger is bull-horned like the helmet of Joffrey's blacksmith stepbrother Gendry (who may be, in turn, a reference to the Cretan Minotaur), who is a royal bastard though on Robert's side instead of Cersei's.
With all of this in mind, no surprise that I wrote the rap battle...
(Before you continue: this rap battle contains SPOILERS for the Dressrosa arc of One Piece, and EVEN MORE SPOILERS for A Storm of Swords and Game of Thrones Season 4. If you wish not to have any of these stories spoiled, skip the rap battle entirely and go on to the next reference.)
EPIC RAP BATTLES OF MISS DERMARK!
JOFFREY BARATHEON!
VERSUS!
DELLINGER!
BEGIN!
Joffrey:
"The Seventeenth Ballad", Sjuttonde balladen, has a fascinating story to tell:
When Evert Taube was a young man recently arrived in the capital to seek his fortune as a bohemian poet, it did not last long from the time he found a sponsor that he began to receive society commissions for writing songs and poetry and performing them in public at high class events. Like the Art Professor at the University in the Wilde tale, and like most other Art Nouveau figureheads of the West, young Evert was an angry rebel who supported art for art's sake. To call a spade a spade and prove that he would not prostitute himself and execute commissions to earn money, but express himself freely, he wrote the seventeenth poem/song of his complete works as his own creed, full of caustic disses towards Stockholm high society. Indeed, he felt out of place in this context. And Taube never sang the song in public, recorded it, or published it in any book, to avoid controversy, during his own lifetime. In 1969, the year of the moon landing, at the height of the youth revolution and counterculture, singer-songwriter Cornelis Vreeswijk discovered the song and recorded it, and, ever since, other Swedish bands like the Hootenanny Singers (1974), Eldkvarn (1990)... in 2011, Evert's son Sven Bertil Taube performed the song live for the first time in his life on TV.
As a child, I was introduced to the Cornelis version of the Seventeenth Ballad when I was around 8-10, at the turn of the millennium, but my translation is far younger, in fact, it was planned and typed in Gothenburg in the summer of this year 2015.
Now note how caustic Evert Taube is against Stockholm high society (my translation captures the spirit of the original Swedish poem perfectly). Every stanza until the last one (on Evert's artist pride) is chock-full of disses...:
It's really hard, I confess, to agree,
with one who begs me to amuse him singing
and flatters me before th' auditory,
but whose backstabbing whispers I hear ringing.
It's really hard to accept and drink his wine...
I put the cup to my lips hesitating...
He boasts he's payed for all the celebrating,
and, behind my back, he calls me a swine!
But I am free, you old and wicked fox,
and you, Your Ladyship, with all your cackle...
I'm free to sing for you, old poppycocks.
With poetry, your balderdash I tackle.
I drink your health now with the gods, with all,
and bring the angel of peace down even quicker,
after I show you who has held her liquor,
and told you the truth, and saved my soul.
Because the truth is healthy, and it is true
that if one in this land defies tradition,
not chirping constantly like chicks like you,
like all the others in their superstition,
but walks one's own way, on one's own two feet,
forgetting common sense, worshipping beauty,
some old hen cackles always about duty
and about being dreadfully indiscrete.
But cackle you tomorrow! For today,
the chance is mine: I'll sing a louder din, nice:
"Cock-a-doodl-doo! Your Lordship, pleased you may!"
For you, I've put my life upon the thin ice.
Think more of happiness than wealth or gold,
for you've got many ways to stay elated...
E'en if that I've sung intoxicated
is as my eternal reputation told!
I stand alone, though in good company,
and that by right, since my own path I follow.
The light and the goal day by day I see,
far from all of these bottles that I swallow.
And thus, by tunes of silver cords amused,
by voices only known to poets' hearing,
I forget all small trifles and all jeering...
and, proud, drink to the health of my own Muse!
So come at me, you fairy boy, face to face...
Bend the knee before His Grace!