DECORP

Reading: “Freedom”

Freedom
by: Jonathan Franzen

Stuck it out and finished another novel - something that did not happen when I attempted to read Franzen’s last book, The Corrections. Didn’t hate this book, but certainly didn’t love it. He’s hailed as a Great American Novelist. The text on the cover of Time Magazine with his photo notes that he “shows us how we live now.” I hope they’re wrong or he’s wrong or somebody’s wrong.

I disliked these characters! My impulses & desires want us to live much more like the characters in the original Great American Novels lived. It’s much easier to believe that nothing is fucked here, dude. Maybe I’ve got my head in the sand.

Reading: Room

Room
by Emma Donoghue

I first noticed “Room” on end-caps at Target & Walmart, which started things off on the wrong foot. Later, I was pushed back toward it by more reputable sources, and I’m glad it was persistent & hung around.

“Room” simplifies very complex things, and it does so very well. The trick here is that a 5-year-old boy named Jack narrates the terribly frightening and all-too-real-feeling story of his life with his mother, who we know simply as “Ma”. Together they live confined in a tiny locked room. A sinister character named Old Nick holds them captive, and continually sexually assaults Ma, a regular practice which brought Jack into the world five years ago. He was born in the room and knows nothing of the world outside beyond limited snippets seen through a skylight & what’s on TV. Ma has explained away these windows into other worlds as fantasy lands.

The boy is five, and I have a five-year-old. I picked this up with a chip on my shoulder:“Let’s see if she can make a kid actually sound & act like a kid!” Seemed like a tall task, but Donoghue smashes it, really.

Her kid Jack isn’t my kid Rye. While I certainly can & did compare them throughout the book, in the end this is such a psychologically complex framework Donoghue has placed Jack in that you can’t honestly allow yourself to question particulars with shit like “Come on, would Jack be that smart?” or “Yeah, sure he’s brilliant with logic & deduction but do you think he knows his sight words as well as my boy does?”

After setting aside my parental competitiveness quickly, I bought in early with this book — I was freaked out & haunted heavily right from the start. After a few chapters, I asked my wife to read the first chapter and she gave it back after only about 10 pages indicating with her body language, facial expression, and very few words that it was too sad, scary, and real.

SPOILER ALERT: I don’t know that I can say there’s a happy ending to the book. There’s an escape, but there’s also the aftermath.

Reading: “Ripped”

Ripped: How the Wired Generation
Revolutionized Music
by Greg Kot

If you’re going to read this, read it soon. The book was first published in 2009 and I already felt as though I went in after an expiration date had passed.

It’s a decent read and provides a quick brush up on what happened, but I often felt like Kot was either editorializing or fan-boy-ing too much when discussing various artists & industry players. Maybe I was hungry for a more cold, calculated take.

To me what’s most interesting here is how easily the book highlights the speed at which this shit is moving. In particular, I was astonished that there was no talk of streaming, subscription, etc!

Reading: “Population: 485”

Population: 485
Meeting Your Neighbors
One Siren at a Time
by Michael Perry

Michael Perry returns home to tiny New Auburn in rural Wisconsin after twelve years of being away. While he now makes his living as a writer, Perry signs on with the volunteer fire & rescue department as well.

I loved this story from the jump and found myself brewing on it long after putting the book down at night; little phrases running around my head while falling asleep, pieces of the story still with me in the morning. You get stoked, right? Those first few chapters of a great new book!

Volunteer fire & rescue runs in Perry’s family; his mother, sister, and brother all members as well. The emergency calls are the jumping-off points which shape his book’s narrative, and with those stories Perry deals calmly with lofty themes of life, death, family, and more.

There are crushingly sad, bitterly happy, wholly redemptive, stupidly funny, and nauseatingly terrible things recounted here about the work of volunteer fire & rescue teams. I’ve heard Perry has caught a buzz with EMTs as something of a hit, a personal poet for those doing this very specific work. Apparently the book continues to sell and gets passed around often in those circles, and that certainly lends weighty credence to his tales.

I understand that what you’re doing when you dial 911 … is announcing to strangers that you are losing the battle. I no longer have the strength, I no longer have the answer, the trouble is winning, and won’t you please come help?

Often the stories here are not about those needing rescue, but rather about the strangers who answer the call. ”As an EMT, you are at war with death,” he writes. And yes, death is quite present thru these pages, but what stood out to me was how clearly at peace Perry is with the reaper. I guess to do this work, you’d have to be.

The first time you press on the chest of an elderly person, the ribs separate from the sternum, popping like a string of firecrackers. These are the times when rescue is nothing more than organized physical assault. Sometimes I wish we would just leave people be, let them slip quietly over the vale. Sometimes life is not ours to save.

The tone of the fire & rescue stuff was unexpected, really surprising writing, which made it a true fucking pleasure to read!

Not only does Perry volunteer with his family members, sometimes out on calls side-by-side, but based on sheer numbers in New Auburn, it’s also not uncommon that the calls direct him toward addresses he knows well. A friend or another family member is having a heart attack, been in a crash, has a house on fire. More times than not, Perry and the other volunteers know the people on the other side of this nasty equation.

For me, the grit & bite of the story is found in the move to the smaller population, the return to home, the nestling & nudging of oneself into the fabric of a job, a place, a group, a family. Perry’s New Auburn is much smaller than Bloomington (and I’ve certainly not jumped into selfless volunteerism), but there are parallels with my own move from Seattle back to Indiana.

Of returning to small-town life after many worldly years out and about, getting degrees, publications, and more, Perry writes:

How does one negotiate the terms of belonging? … Commonalities of spirit and pretension abound. The man in the Hooters cap and the woman with the NPR tote bag are not promoting restaurants and radio … The poet who takes his poems to the coffee shop and the hunter who takes his buck to the bar are both hoping for approbation and maybe a girl.

Do you see what he did there at the end? Do you notice how he takes the edge off, really lightens a heavy load and ties it up with a nice little bow: “and maybe a girl.” This is the style of the book. It’s steadily smart, but consistently humble and fair. It leaves you a lot of room, lets you off many hooks. 

Ok sure, here in Bloomington we kill most of our deer with cars & trucks rather than guns, but we can relate. There are complex negotiations you must make with yourself & your surroundings. I’m impressed with how well Perry fits into his spot there in Wisconsin, probably even jealous.

A signature of originality in Perry’s writing is the way he handles in-between-isms, which he tackles often throughout the book. He’s sitting on a bit of a fence, but I’m happy to let him get away with it.

There are times vanity gets the better of me and I entertain visions of myself as the Bohemian Farmboy. The Arty Redneck. I imagine myself bridging two cultures. Truth is, I am a dilettante in either camp.

The crux of “Population: 485” is finding somewhere to fit. Perry is so comfortable in-between, do you see what I mean? I love it, I admire it, and will try to copy it!

I love - the word is not too strong - the idea of neighbors coming together to put out fires … It feels good. It feels right. It feels like I belong. Sometimes you find yourself looking for little commonalities. Go Packers.

See there, he did it again, the NFL reference!

This shit is too good. As I’ve gone back thru the notes I made with this book, I’m itching to re-read it again top to bottom. I’ve got about 50 pages left in the Keith Richards book (the last two chapters are agonizingly boring), and then I think I’m going to jump back in to New Auburn.

Reading: “When I Stop Talking, You’ll Know I’m Dead”

When I Stop Talking, You’ll Know I’m Dead:
Useful Stories from a Persuasive Man
by Jerry Weintraub with Rich Cohen

Early in the book, Weintraub:

I sometimes think a person is a kind of memory machine. You collect, and sort, and remember, then you tell.

This is a turn-on for me: The confidence to announce that you’ve got a story to tell, but also the foresight to do the telling at the end of a very particular process. After collecting AND sorting AND remembering… THEN you tell. A good approach!

Jerry Weintraub was lured into the biz when he was young, sitting in plush seats surrounded by velvet curtains in the movie theaters of Times Square. He called the theater a synagogue, it was a holy experience for him immediately. Traveling with his family to the west coast, he was exposed to Hollywood and stars and starlets early on. The famous were out and about loosely and for display walking out of restaurants, sitting in bars. There weren’t cameras chasing them, Hollywood was a much smaller town, and as a kid Weintraub got a good look around.

I love a story that starts like this; it’s so far removed from the way the entertainment world reached out and grabbed me. Polar opposites, really, but still I gobbled up his accounts of bold moves, big cities, etc.

Weintraub as a force really arrives when he hustles to get the attention of Colonel Tom Parker, and tours Elvis as an amalgam of agent/promoter which essentially redefined what touring could be for superstars. Weintraub notes that after Elvis:

I did not have to hustle quite as much … [I became] a beacon, a door into a better life … In other words, people seek you out.”

This digital version of this book comes with “extras”  (note: first time I’ve noticed these, and I’m way into it, feels immediately more promising than musical b-sides ever did/do). One such extra is a list of Important People in the story: John Denver, Elvis, Sinatra, George Clooney, Brad Pitt, George Bush Sr and on and on with 40 or 50 names you’ve heard 1000 times. Music, Movies, Politics.

When Weintraub worked with Led Zeppelin on a two-night arena stand, the band came off stage pissed-off and ranting after night one. They did not feel as though the PA was beefy enough, there wasn’t enough juice. Weintraub and his team went straight to work that night and thru to the next day fabricating additional speaker cabinet stacks, giant walls made of empty boxes, spray-painted black. Weintraub:

That night, Zeppelin exploded onto the stage as if they’d been shot from a cannon, like clowns at the circus, danced and screamed and made a lot of wonderful noise, reveling in the mighty power of this wall of speakers, which, of course, were not connected to anything. If you expect loud, loud is what you are going to hear.

A lot of the time, these guys made demands just to be demanding. These were rock stars. They needed to say “Screw You!” to whoever was cutting the check or wearing the suit. It’s part of the job description.

Crucial, right? The music stories come in the first half of the book, and of course that was my favorite stuff, but this basic vibe & understanding that comes out of his Zeppelin story carries through to the Hollywood tales and beyond. He does this great connecting-of-the-dots from his beginnings in the biz to one particular high-point, where Weintraub sits at a state dinner with Ronald Reagan and suddenly realizes everyone in the room had been on the cover of Time magazine. He’s speaking of Reagan to begin with but then…

“It’s the intangible quality that sells tickets and pulls nations out of funks. It’s where politics becomes showbiz, and showbiz becomes transcendent. A movie or piece of art can save your life in the same way your life can be saved by a policy or law. This is why politicians seek out movie stars, and why movie stars want to become politicians. They seek the same target, which is the soul of the people.

Ok shit, so it’s a bit fluffy and over-the-top. I find that I’m giving people the benefit of the doubt with their books, a wide hallway to walk down.

Reading: “You Can’t Always Get What You Want”

You Can’t Always Get What You Want:
My Life with the Rolling Stones,
the Grateful Dead and
Other Wonderful Reprobates
by Sam Cutler

The best part of this tell-all story comes when Cutler transitions from tour managing the Stones after Altamont to working for the Dead before Festival Express. Between these two gigs — these most insane of all TMing jobs! — Cutler was living in a spare room at Jerry Garcia’s house, half hiding-out & half figuring-it-out.

Seemingly abandoned by the Stones after the stabbing, he was broke and wholly unclear on what would come out of the Altamont disaster. Cutler is professionally, personally, and spiritually lost, but happens upon some clarity there at Jerry’s.

In print this translates into a few paragraphs or pages describing a few days or weeks where Cutler communicates a curious calm and comfortable space he’s found. It’s a beautiful pivot as he comes to terms (or maybe conditions?) with his job description, his duties, his employers, and in general his devotion to rock and roll.

The writing somehow makes you feel relaxed right along with him, lets you move on with him to part two of the story. It’s a very singular, bird’s-eye view into a transition so many lovers of music & all that comes with it must have made on their own as 1969 turned to 1970.

That little section was the topper for me, but overall the entire book is fantastic and I’d recommend it particularly to anyone who’s been on the road with a touring band in any capacity. I’m so impressed that Cutler spends very little time in his book shit-talking or blaming the band members, crew members, promoters, labels, agents, etc.

Instead, he spends his time telling an optimistic story when it’s all said and done. It seems clear that Cutler well understood the very basic components of the TM’s job, one of which is to contain, diminish, and hide drama & bullshit rather than spotlight it, advertise it, and share it with all parties. Well done, sir.

Reading: “You Never Give Me Your Money”

You Never Give Me Your Money:
The Beatles After the Breakup
by Peter Doggett

If you’re remotely interested in the mechanics of The Beatles, this is highly recommended. This is well written, well organized, highly informative, and stunningly entertaining.

Doggett starts with the cracks and fissures that eventually led to the official public breakup, tracing the individual paths personally, musically, psychologically, financially, etc. to reveal each member’s private steps toward the breakup. He manages to simultaneously demystify these four men as individuals and further complicate them as a group. I didn’t know that’s what I wanted from The Beatles here in the Fall of 2010, but it certainly hit the spot. An easy and breezy read, but one that’s continually rewarding with each chapter.

This one leads me to want more of the band’s music and more of their solo recordings, which I’m optimistically hoping will continue to be my stance on The Beatles for the remainder of my time with music!

Reading: “Our Noise”

Our Noise - The Story of Merge Records
by John Cook with Mac and Laura

Finally dug in on “Our Noise”, and can definitely give the book high marks. The story moves quickly and mostly chronologically. There’s a bit of an undersell here, mostly owing to the fact that the vast majority of the content is provided as direct quotes from key players at the label or in the bands. Editorializing comes softly and subtly, and overall feels genuinely and honestly executed.

It’s possible that my standing as a Superchunk fan contributed to the feeling that the book is as much about Mac & Laura’s band as it is about their label. There’s a chicken-and-egg question at play for much of the story, at least until you get into Spoon and Arcade Fire territory there at the end… In that regard, there might be a need for a part two here — a follow-up book or additional afterword down the road. In that section Superchunk will get a few sentences covering sporadic one-offs and maybe a 7” here or there, and the rest of the story will unfold in heavy detail surrounding those artists releasing records on the label that feel like true giants.

Yes, for sure recommended to anyone making and/or loving independent music and records.

Reading “Chronicles: Volume One”

Chronicles: Volume One
by Bob Dylan

What’s been most surprising here is the breezy readability. Last night when it was time to stop reading  and start sleeping, I wasn’t ready to let go of it for the day. I left off in the middle of the book, not too far after the first radical time-jump Dylan makes, and flipped to the front. I’d noticed when I first opened the book the absurd number of pages devoted to review snippets. I usually end up reading everything included eventually (copyright page, back cover, thank yous, and review snippets). The pull-quotes taking up so much real estate in my copy of “Chronicles” are spot on, most every one of them. Such a surprising tone here! A dry openness, and welcomed low-levels of weirdness. I’m loving every single paragraph.