#32 Matthew McDonald, musician & poet
'It’s a bit like shopping—I’ll acquire the goods in one place and unpack them somewhere else'
Matthew McDonald is an Australian musician and poet living in Berlin. He is the principal double bassist of the Berliner Philharmoniker and editor of berlin lit. He has been published in ballast, Many Nice Donkeys, Red Ogre Review, The Shore, and elsewhere. Matthew regularly publishes his poems on Substack, too.
Where do you write?
A lot of my poems begin as notes on my phone, so literally anywhere. As the notes morph into poems, I’ll work on my laptop, often on the sofa. But I travel a lot with my job as a musician and find long train trips the best situation for working on poems.
What can we always find on your desk?
I don’t have a desk per se, but if I’m at home, there’s always a cat crawling over my laptop.
Morning writer or late-night words?
Without any discipline applied at all, I tend to do most of my writing in the morning when my family is still asleep and the coffee pot is all mine.
Coffee, tea, nibbles?
It’s always coffee. No nibbles—I usually forget to eat when I’m in the writing flow.
What's your most tempting distraction?
No surprises here: my phone.
What's that we hear on the speakers?
I’m a musician and spend most of my days playing music, so when I’m writing, I prefer to have silence. But I have two teenage boys so there’ll be anything from Joni Mitchell to Kendrick Lamar playing somewhere in the flat.
Have you got any pre-writing rituals?
Coffee. And I’ll often read poetry to remember what it is.
Perfect bookshop to hide on a rainy day?
I was on tour in New York and made the pilgrimage to Berl’s Brooklyn Poetry Shop on a day of unrelenting rain. Berl’s only sells poetry and has many incredible gems from small presses. I spent two heavenly hours there and left with several kilos of poetry.
What's your most treasured book?
I was alphabetizing my poetry collection yesterday and realised that my most treasured book of all is Paul Muldoon’s New Selected Poems 1968-1994. I saw him read at the Adelaide Festival, where I’d been playing Mahler’s 6th Symphony. Paul Muldoon gave a beautiful reading and was kind enough to sign my copy of his book. We had a brief chat about John Donne. I was 18 at the time.
I have many books I love and have managed to hold onto, but the ones acquired through cunning, luck, or sheer patience are my most treasured.
I waited six weeks for Mark Leidner’s ‘Removing the Sword from the Stone’ to arrive. I love it and would never loan it to anyone.
Also, Elisa Gabbert’s ‘Normal Distance’, which is amazing. And it’s a lovely souvenir acquired during my hours sheltering from the rain at Berl’s Brooklyn Poetry Shop.
Favourite word in the English language?
Detritus. I love the sound, the meaning, and its etymological roots. For years, I pronounced it in my head with an accent on the first syllable, even though my dad pronounced it correctly when describing the contents of my childhood bedroom.
Dream writing location?
I don’t have a dream writing location so much as a desire to be able to actually write in a dream location. I love inspiring natural settings with peaceful, gorgeous views and also dark, dingy cafes, but I just can’t write in them.
It’s a bit like shopping—I’ll acquire the goods in one place and unpack them somewhere else. Usually somewhere very boring. Japan always creeps into my poems, but I’ve never written a word during the many times I’ve been there.
Three writers (dead or alive) to have dinner with?
I would gladly host a dinner party with James Tate, Lorrie Moore, and James Baldwin and just listen to them chat.
One poem that has changed your life:
I wouldn’t necessarily say it changed my life, but John Donne’s ‘Good Friday, 1613. Riding Westward’ has been in my life since I was a teenager. It’s my desert island poem. When I was 15 or 16, I went through a big metaphysical poetry phase, which was around the same time as my decision to distance myself from Catholicism. I had this sense of guilt about abandoning a god I no longer believed in. The lines
Hence is't, that I am carryed towards the West
This day, when my Soules forme bends toward the East.
resonated strongly within me. They seemed to say everything I was feeling, despite the context being very different than Donne’s. I think of those lines all the time, often humorously. Like if I’m going to a pub instead of doing the work I should be doing.