February - 45,000 people in one week watch performances of rokabirī music by Japanese singers at the first Nichigeki Western Carnival.
February 14 – The Iranian government bans rock & roll, claiming that this form of music is against the concepts of Islam and is a health hazard. Iranian doctors warn of the risk of injuries to the hips from the "extreme gyrations" of rock & roll dances.
March 12
Billie Holiday is given a year's probation by a Philadelphia court following her arrest and guilty plea on narcotics possession charges in 1956.
In Hilversum, Netherlands, 'Dors, mon amour' sung by André Claveau (music by Pierre Delanoë, text by Hubert Giraud) wins the third annual Eurovision Song Contest for France. Domenico Modugno places third for Italy with 'Nel blu, dipinto di blu' which, retitled 'Volare', will reach No. 1 in the US Billboard Hot 100, and will win two Grammy Awards next year for Record of the Year and Song of the Year for 1958.
and amongst other things, Sylvia Plath writes a poem,
a modest insertion to the world of history and chess,
but nonetheless more spectacular -
all that candy, all that ******* candy,
the smiles the pristine pomp - the goody suede shoe gimmicks,
but there she is, ravenous woman of the swamp,
one of the Graeae - question is, one tooth cannibal
shared or one eye to see Pericles?
ever wonder why poets solely keep the Grecian myths
alive and not involve themselves with saintly tales
akin to Assisi? boring as cow **** fried with shrimps,
that's me and father jack (father ted, a sitcom)
on the matter... but seriously, the celestial beast that
Sylvia Plath is given her housewife circumstance,
no girl this dying age would write such magnifique
superstition - well, that's pomp in-itself,
i don't know, call me stupid, but globalisation is
hardly an argument to expect being well informed,
i have a graveyard for a library, or the other way round,
i'm reading books that desire to be kept in a winery,
for example... well, anyone will do to fit the following
words: a château 1865 - pompous ******* 'n' all,
but you see, what gets me going is 1958 and the poem
Perseus: the Triumph of Wit over Suffering.
i don't care who won the chess tournaments,
or if Elvis was a high-tonne larder than usual -
whatever the hip-replacement tactic of Iranian doctors
was like, for ****'s sake... this is a religion that
puts emphasis on prayer and "music" five times a day...
the Islamic call to prayer is sang, it's not hamstrung,
it's not smoked salmon, it's not Catholic petition
murmur, it's sang... ting a lick'ah ling...
******* church-bell uvula (i know i swear, oath words,
i told you, in polish kurva is a conjunction word
akin to the Achilles heel,
mind you, a cure seeing **** than seeing f&!k
might help with the **** addiction, and...)
i mean i wept listening to an adhan once,
but please don't get me wrong,
if you'd take Mozart to be rain tapping,
and a bunch of cooking saucers to be a drum-kit what then?!
i don't like Islam for one reason... i love music too much,
and, from the way i see it, Islam doesn't like music,
even though i don't like castrated choir boys either
penetrated by the almighty papa who pretends to
be a Jew with his kippah, i'd rather listen to music than
that godforsaken recitation about 72, and how
pomegranate juice will sustain me better than
a whiskey on the rocks... the end, pa pa!