RIP Steve Dalachinsky (1946-2019)
We're sad to receive word that beloved New York City poet Steve Dalachinsky died yesterday morning, after suffering from "a brain hemorrhage caused by a stroke following a reading in Long Island on Saturday night." The folks at Blank Forms shared this lovely obituary, paired with a recent photograph of Dalachinsky by Andrew Lampert, in a note to its newsletter subscribers:
New York/Downtown poet and collagist Steve Dalachinsky passed away this morning from a brain hemorrhage caused by a stroke following a reading in Long Island on Saturday night. An inspired conversationalist, Dalachinsky was beloved by the avant-garde community for his cantankerous wit, frank sense of humor, generous compassion, and love of music, especially free jazz. A tireless supporter (and critic) of the arts, Dalachinsky was a mentor to many and the ubiquity of his presence at performances, concerts, and readings will be sorely missed. Born in 1946 in Brooklyn, Dalachinsky was the author of numerous books including A Superintendent’s Eyes, The Final Nite & Other Poems, and Where Night and Day Become One. He lived in Manhattan with his wife, painter and poet Yuko Otomo, without whom he was rarely seen. Having attended Saturday’s Sun Ra Arkestra concert shortly before his stroke, the legendary wiseass’ last words were “Maybe I overdosed with Sun Ra.” Anyone who knew Steve knows that he wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Dalachinsky was also an avid supporter of avant-garde jazz, as WGBO's Nate Chinen noted in this obituary published yesterday afternoon. More:
A steadfast presence on New York’s downtown scene — streetwise and pithy, sardonic but never jaded — Dalachinsky seemed to know everybody, and heard more live music than most. Many of his poems bear witness to some ephemeral magic on the bandstand, from the “long agos farewelled” of a Sheila Jordan-Steve Kuhn gig to the “screeching cohesions bowstrummed” of a concert by the Joe McPhee Quartet.
Within the avant-garde community, he was known as a discerning barometer. Jazz critic Francis Davis, who was born in the same year, advised his readers in The Atlantic “to keep an eye out for Steve Dalachinsky, a stream-of-consciousness poet and a loquacious advocate for his favorite players. His presence is a guarantee that on any given night you're where the action is.”
Pianist Matthew Shipp, who first met Dalachinsky shortly after arriving in New York in 1983, remembered him on Monday morning in the present tense. “He’s very charming in one way,” Shipp said, “and in another way he’s so in-your-face and brutally honest. Personality-wise we just hit it off.” Their long creative partnership can be traced through a thicket of poems, performances and liner notes, as well as a book, Logos and Language: a Post-Jazz Metaphorical Dialogue.
Read more about Dalachinsky's life and work at WGBO.