Here’s T.S. Eliot reading The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock with an accompaniment by Portishead.
An unlikely pairing?
Listen to it and you’ll think otherwise. This kind of juxtaposition accentuates how contemporary and edgy and mysterious a poem like Prufrock is. In fact, Portishead (this must be a late ’90s or early 2000 song?) sounds more dated than Eliot. It’s always a revelation how great art can be so startling and fresh after so many years