Star Tribune from Minneapolis, Minnesota • Page 29

Variet Minneapolis Star and Tribune CO CJ! CO cn CO Tuesday November 11983 GOOD DATE OF SALE ONLY 1C CO McKuen doesn't let success spoil him mm i wmvf gmm I fitr 5 "I i By Dave Matheny Staff Writer Rod McKuen has something that most poets don't have: He's popular and tremendously successful. If that alone weren't enough to make him a failure with the critics, the rest of his activities certainly would be. He's a composer and a lyricist and he does one-man concerts to sellout crowds, a quarter-million in Paris recently. He holds Grammys and Emmys and Oscar and Pulitzer nominations. He's done movie scores, librettos, concertos, pop music, rock, folk.

He has any number of gold records to his credit. In his spare time, he does benefits for and talks to clubs about the problems of child abuse he was a victim of physical and sexual abuse himself wildlife preservation, energy conservation and flying hot air balloons. McKuen was in town Monday to promote his latest book, "Sounds of Solitude." That wasn't his only interest, however. McKuen doesn't have a single interest, which he supposes is why the critics and the poets who can't make a living from poetry keep him at arm's length. "If -you do more than one thing, they suspect you're not doing anything very well," he said.

That wasn't his main theme, however. McKuen doesn't have a single theme, which he supposes is why the critics and the poets who can't make a living from poetry keep him at arm's length. "If you do more than one thing, they suspect you're not doing anything very well," he said. He says he'll accept criticism gladly from the poets and lyricists and songwriters and classical composers who support themselves from their work, but not from those who don't. He seems to be on fairly safe ground with his willingness to accept the opinions of his peers.

"I'm rather pleased that no poet or songwriter who's a success is critical of my work," he said. As for critics, "They get the books and records for free, so who cares what they say? Who would you rather please, the people who get things free or the people who pay for them?" he asked. He doesn't mind if his readers get his books from libraries, however. "That's the way I started." If all of this sounds fairly defensive, it shouldn't. McKuen, dressed in his signature attire of sweater, jeans and tennis shoes, would rather talk about his work and interests, which leaves the field wide open for anything at all.

Pick a subject, any subject, and he'll gladly converse about it. Balloons, for example. He has two, both made by local balloonist Don Piccard. McKuen got into aviation with a Stearman biplane because he was afraid of heights. One of his abiding themes is that you have to take on the things that you fear the most.

True to form, he fell in love with it. Ballooning 'is the closest you can come to having a conversation with God," he said. In case God isn't feeling very talkative, he sometimes takes his Old English sheepdog along so they both can enjoy the view. He's delighted when birds alight on the gondola. Once, in East Africa, he flew low over a herd of elephant and the sound of the burners caused a stampede, which in turn gave McKuen a sense of wonder about the power of the animals.

"They just ran over anything that was in front of them." His book. The "solitude" in the title is something everyone needs and should make use of. It's a loosely connected series of autobiographical pieces set in this country and Australia. In it, McKuen, who seems doomed to be unlucky in love, finds and loses someone and goes on. He seems better equipped than most people to make use of the solitude that follows, making a distinction between being alone and being lonely.

"Solitude has gotten a bad rap. There's supposed to be something wrong with you if you don't want to be with other people, It's always portrayed as the origin of being a mass murderer or something." His age: He turned 50 in April. "I don't know what I did. Got drunk, I suppose. I used to think that 50 would be the end, or that I'd be dead before I got there." Now, it doesn't bother him at all and he's looking forward to a grand old age.

"They'll have to drag me away," he said. It doesn't bother him that young people come up to him and say they've been told by their parents that they were conceived while one of his tapes was playing. "I hope their kids come up to me and tell me the same 1 I' fesaa-Q Staff Photo by Neil McGahee Rod McKuen: He says he's looking forward to a grand old age. Lesson in Funk isn't just dancing; it's an Nick Coleman I McKuen 7C By Dave Matheny Staff Writer 1. Relax your back.

2. Bend your knees slightly. Keep those knees springy. 3. Feet flat on the floor.

4. Arms down, loose, pretty much at ease but kept slightly behind the body. 5. Every other beat, or every fourth beat, clap. You'll have to bring the arms out front to clap.

6. Nod slightly and constantly, at about twice the speed of the main beat. Thus begins the Funk Lesson. Adrian Piper, who has a Ph.D. in philosophy from Harvard and is black, says that Funk is black music and black dancing and learning to Funk is one way for white folks to overcome cultural barriers.

About 60 people, almost all white and largely female, gathered in a room at the Minneapolis College of Art and Design (MCAD) one night last week to participate in Piper's Funk Lessons. Piper sees the event itself as art, and so does MCAD, which is why they sponsored the event. It wasn't just Arthur Murray-typedance lessons, but a cultural and artistic occurrence happening in time rather than on canvas. Her point is that Funk isn't just another artistic leap A student practices Funk. if: gn ft i if- v.

1 J.J-.-..v... way of dancing or moving to music, such as punk or disco, but an almost political form of self-expression. People who are Funking are communicating, mostly with themselves but to some extent with each other; and the music can't be listened to without moving. If you sit fairly still and just listen, as you would with classical or modern jazz, you won't hear the music, she says. In other words, get down.

So the people gathered and Piper explained what she was doing and what they were to do and put on a very loud record. At first, Piper kept the movements very simple, just a flexing of the knees and a clap. She then had them add separate body movements. The students tended to arrange themselves in ranks around her without conscious decision. Those in the front rank really moved.

Those in the next rank or two moved a lot, but not as much. The rest were stragglers who were either lying down on the job or waiting for those in front to get done and come home. The ones in front were having fun. As Piper added new movements, they picked them up as easily as if they had been just biding time and waiting for them, and integrated each with the ones that went before. So far it still looked like plain dancing, just rock or Funk 3C Local stations side by side in Beirut coverage Sometimes the news is so depressing that I hate to have to tell you what I know.

Take today's items, for instance: Twin Cities TV reporters discovered in Beirut; Cora-Ann Mihalik departing for Chicago; turmoil at City Pages. Yes, it's a dirty job. But someone's got to do it. Here goes. Beefed-up security may protect U.S.

Marines in Beirut from further bombing attacks like the one a week ago Sunday that killed at least 229 Americans. But it probably won't protect them from the assaults of Twin Cities television reporters who have descended on Beirut. All three network affiliates in the Twin Cities have sent news teams to Beirut Coleman 3C Staff Photos by Duane Braley Adrian Piper teaches Funk..