You won't find a more truthful headline today, no matter where you look, so at least you have that for which to be thankful.
I detailed
my problems with commenting on other blogs. I have since found that I can comment on those blogs that have a pop-up window for commenting. I have no idea why only this set-up works, but that's the way it is. Bottom line: I am still unable to comment at most blogs I visit. I am still visiting them, though, and if I absolutely feel an overwhelming need to comment, I'll drop you an e-mail. If you are receiving my comments, ignore all of this twaddle.
(Hell, even if you ARE receiving my comments, feel free to ignore it.)
Now, the re-run.
Last year, I ran something I called a last-minute gift-giving guide. What it was, really, was an excuse for me to recycle a whole bunch of pompous reviews I wrote, mostly over at
Amazon. For some damn reason, a few of you commented that I ran it too late in the season for it to do you any good and would I please run it next year a bit earlier? So here it is and remember that you (well, one or two of you) asked for it.
LAST-MINUTE GIFT GIVING IDEAS
No, this is not one of the gift ideas.
This is just a gentle reminder to be aware
that there may be cameras at your next office party.
OK,
not all of what follows is new. You vagrants who have been hanging out
here for years will probably recognize this stuff. Or maybe you've
forgotten it entirely. Maybe you
wanted to forget it entirely. If so, my apologies for dredging up pain from your past.
What
I've done, in a misguided effort at providing you with a favor for the
holidays, is compile a few reviews that have appeared on this blog
during it's amazingly overrated life.
(I realize the apostrophe in "it's" is generally incorrect when referring to an inanimate object, but this blog sure
smells as though it were alive at one time.)
Of
course, I automatically assumed that whatever opinion I held concerning
a book or recording is something you can't live without. That's just
the sort of ego-driven bastard I am. And, in order to make this at least
a bit more worth your while, each review comes with a suggestion
concerning who might enjoy these things among your friends, relatives,
lovers, and other assorted riff-raff. That's because I'm so
condescending I assumed you wouldn't be able to figure it out just by the context
alone.
And here we go!
************************************************************************
For the lover of comic novels...
A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole
The
author, unfortunately, committed suicide after failing to sell this
book. Once I read it, I understood why he did so. If I had written this
grand work and been unable to sell it, I might have offed myself, too.
After
Toole's death, the book was sold, by his mother, to a somewhat small
university press. It ended up becoming a bestseller and then won a
Pulitzer. Since that time, a couple of Toole's shorter works have been
unearthed and published, but that's all there is. No more will be
forthcoming because of his death. That's sad stuff.
The
book, however, isn't sad at all. It's riotously funny. It is populated
with characters and situations that had me laughing aloud, many times
over. The main character, Ignatius, at turns amazes, delights, and
disgusts. He is one of the great original characters of modern
literature - a combination of Falstaff, a degenerate Oliver Hardy, and a
volcanic eruption.
(If you're one of those people,
like me, who sometimes reads a bit of a book they buy for someone else,
don't do it in this instance. Instead, get a copy for yourself when you
buy theirs. This is because you'll regret having to give it to someone
else before you've finished it, and by the time it arrives it'll be too
close to Christmas for you to do so.)
**************************************************************************
For the classical music lover...
Prokofiev, Symphonies - Berlin Philharmonic, conducted by Seiji Ozawa
If
Prokofiev had been born in 1956 in Detroit, instead of 1891 in St.
Petersburg, Russia, and he had dropped some acid, he would have been the
white Jimi Hendrix.
(That's the type of statement
nobody can easily dispute. It contains no facts and supposes something
that was utterly impossible during the person's actual life. I don't
really believe it, but what the hell. I felt like saying something
totally ridiculous and that works as well as anything else.)
These recordings contain Prokofiev's seven symphonies and The Lieutenant Kiji Suite.
Prokofiev's
Second Symphony is my favorite piece of classical music. It is
tremendously forceful, a bit dissonant, and generally beats a couple of
recurring themes into the ground - not unlike heavy metal, my first
love. You'll rarely find it on any classical aficionado "favorites"
list. They'll mention his
First Symphony, which is more classically structured, as well as his piano concertos and, of course,
Peter And The Wolf. Fine music, all, but I prefer his more experimental stuff.
If someone you know likes Prokofiev, they'll love these discs.
*************************************************************************
For the progressive rock fan (or yodeling fan, or fan of Dutch musicians)...
Moving Waves (and/or) Focus 3 - Focus
Vastly underrated progressive rock quartet from Holland. They had a Top 40 hit in the 70's with a quirky instrumental called
Hocus Pocus,
which contained a whole bunch of yodeling and a couple of searing
guitar solos over a hard rock rhythm track. That came from the album
Moving Waves. The follow-up to that album was a two-record set named
Focus 3.
Thisj Van Leer
is the vocalist, keyboardist and flute player. He has a marvelous
voice, although he usually uses it only for oddities such as the
aforementioned yodeling. Most of
Focus'
output was instrumental. His flute vibrato was magnificent and he went
on to play as a sideman in various jazz ensembles after this group broke
up.
Jan Akkerman played guitar
and other stringed instruments - lute among them - and threw vicious
heavy metal guitar licks into baroque-inspired jazz pieces. They were
the two members involved in every incarnation of the group. Drummer for
both of these sessions was
Pierre Van Der Linden. For the
Moving Waves recording, the bassist was
Cyril Havermans. On
Focus 3, it was
Bert Ruiter. Both he and Van Der Linden get extended solos on
Focus 3, so if you like that sort of thing, then you'll dig that one more. If not...
(Being
a bass player, I love extended bass solos. However, some people
consider them the musical equivalent of waiting for your number to be
called at the registry of motor vehicles. Being a bass player, I hope
those people's eyes rot out.)
*************************************************************************
For the fan of big bands, great guitar playing, and weird arrangements...
WOLFGANG’S BIG NIGHT OUT
The Brian Setzer Orchestra
gives classical music a re-working in various jazzy settings, mostly
big band swing. I haven’t removed it from my car’s CD player since I got
it.
(That’s because the eject button isn’t working! Ba-Rump-Bump!)
This
is a near-perfect CD. The only flaw is that I scraped it with a fork
while trying to pry open the packaging, but that’s OK because it's my
copy, not the one you'll be giving to someone else.
Really,
honestly, truly – the one major flaw on this album concerns some of the
endings to the songs. I don’t know whether a conscious effort was made
to try to appear not totally serious, or if the arrangement is just
incompetent, but four or five of the endings are either unflinchingly
corny or just jarringly off-key.
(I know. Believe me, I
know. Of all the people who might complain about something being corny
or off-key, for me to do so is beyond the pale, and I’m one of the
palest folks around. It’s just that while I’m certainly the type who
appreciates a quote from the opening riff of
Smoke On The Water following some Offenbach, someone else might not be, so I figured I’d warn you.)
Setzer’s
guitar playing is magnificent throughout. He easily transitions from
straight renditions of the original lines, to purist jazz, to his
beloved rockabilly licks, to paeans to such diverse stylists as Django
Reinhardt and Terry Kath. It’s a tour-de-force of epic proportion. The
rest of the band is hot, but this is Setzer’s showcase. Aside from some
clarinet reminiscent of that heard during Goodman’s small combo days,
and some stunning drum breaks from Bernie Dresel, there are few other
solos from the ensemble. I might have found one or two improvisations by
members of the brass section enjoyable, but there aren’t any. Small
quibble, really, since Setzer is fairly mesmerizing the whole way
through.
The opener is an adaptation of Beethoven’s
SYMPHONY #5; I suppose chosen for that spot because it contains the most
recognizable opening in classical music. It’s fun, but nowhere near the
strongest cut. I’d say that honor might come down to a choice between
the hot jazz rendition of FUR ELISE, which contains the aforementioned
allusions to Reinhardt and Goodman (as well as Reinhardt’s partner,
violinist Stephane Grappelli) or the album-closing GOD REST YE MERRY
GENTLEMEN, featuring a Duane Eddy-like reverb in the opening, and an
acid-tinged wah-wah workout (Kath) in the close.
Other interesting interpretations abound. THE WILLIAM TELL OVERTURE (otherwise known as the theme from
The Lone Ranger,
to the uncultured of my generation and older) is given a mid-tempo
swing chart that reminds, in spots, of 1950’s-era Dorsey (excluding the
electric guitar, of course, which Dorsey abhorred.) Mussorgsky’s IN THE
HALL OF THE MOUNTAIN KING features hip lyrics and female backing
harmonies. And then there’s Setzer’s frantic workout on FLIGHT OF THE
BUMBLEBEE (which includes the female vocal chorus chanting “Faster!
Faster!” and then going into mock orgasmic cries.)
Overall,
this is just plain fun, and it will delight the person in your life who
enjoys both electric guitar and swing music, as well as those classical
enthusiasts who don’t mind a mild send-up.
*************************************************************************
For the boomer...
Another wonderful choice for gift giving is Bill Bryson’s
THE LIFE AND TIMES OF THE THUNDERBOLT KID.
I’m
a huge Bryson fan. He holds a spot in my literary heart similar to that
of his spiritual predecessor, Mark Twain. In his body of work to date,
he has easily shifted from linguistic archaeologist to travel diarist to
writer of memoirs. This offering is from the latter category, with a
sprinkling of historian thrown in for good measure.
The
best praise I can give this book, I suppose, is that I laughed out loud
again and again. I used to do that fairly often when I was a teen and
discovering some folks worthy of guffaws, i.e., S. J. Perelman or Allan
Sherman or Twain, but Bryson is one of the few to do it to me in these
latter years. And I’m not talking just a choked and short exclamation of
"Ha!" I’m telling you that I had actual tears running down my face from
laughing. It’s that good.
This is the book that MY WIFE has, in her loving over-estimation of my skills, been trying to get
me
to write for the past four or five years. It is about growing up as a
boomer, with all of the ridiculous-yet-endearing trappings of what was
probably the last great innocent epoch of American childhood. Now she’ll
have to get on my back to write something else entirely since there is
no way in hell I could come within ten miles of doing as good a job of
it as Bryson has done. I wouldn't subject myself to the ridicule and
scorn that would inevitably result from an attempt to match this book.
Seriously
– there will never be a better book written concerning growing up in
the 50’s and 60’s. It is absolutely pitch perfect. If you know someone
between the ages of 45 and 65, buy that person this book. Or buy it for
yourself, if you qualify. I’d stake my life on the fact that you won’t
be disappointed. I’ll commit suicide if any of you don’t have enough
sense of humor to enjoy it.
(OK, I know damn well that
there are plenty of people without enough sense of humor to enjoy this
book, but none of them would have toughed out
my writing to get this far, so I’m in no danger of having to fulfill that promise.)
So,
buy these things for someone you love. If you don't love anyone, buy
them for yourself. However, you won't enjoy them, because if you don't
love anyone, you're the type who won't enjoy them, so there.
************************************************************************
Let’s see. What’s a good closer? How about something for anyone who loved Fred Rogers?
Mister Rogers Swings!
That’s the name of a CD by
Holly Yarbrough,
and it’s also the truth. Yarbrough has taken sixteen songs from the
Fred Rogers songbook and done them proud. And they all swing.
Now,
"swing" is a term that needs definition in this case, since the word
sometimes carries a connotation of up-tempo rhythms and blaring horn
charts. You won’t find much of that here. But, swing it does. It’s a
very gentle sort of swing, and, like Fred Rogers himself,
non-threatening and full of love. This CD won’t make you hop off the
couch and start jitterbugging, but it will definitely make you want to
hug someone special to you. That can be fun, too.
The session opens, as seems obligatory in any reading of Rogers’ work, with a version of
Won’t You Be My Neighbor? In a similar nod to conformity, it closes with
It’s Such A Good Feeling.
I don't really have a problem with that. It's comfortable, and they’re
both swell tunes wherever they might have shown up. In between, we get
material that will be familiar to long-time viewers of Fred’s show, many
done up in a cool lounge vibe. Over top of the solidly mellow bass and
drums, there are healthy doses of bright and to-the-point jazz guitar
soloing, extremely tasty piano work, occasional loosening of the horn
section’s leash (to especially good effect on
You’ve Got To Do It,
which features Roy Agee, George Tidwell, and the late Boots Randolph,
trading short solos on trombone, trumpet, and saxophone, respectively), a
few country-tinged pieces dominated by cello and fiddle, and - most
inviting - Yarbrough’s wonderful vocals.
Yarbrough has a
truly great set of pipes, and she uses them well. Her singing is smooth
and melodic throughout. She sometimes doesn’t take a chance I would
have preferred – there was one spot in
Many Ways To Say I Love You
where I thought for sure she’d go for the higher note, instead settling
for the mid-range – but it's a matter of my taste, not her ability, and
there’s really very little to quibble about in her choices. Throughout
the CD, you ride along on the light golden honey of her singing, nary a
bump in the road anywhere, and it’s an enjoyable journey.
One of my all-time favorite Fred Rogers compositions is the love song,
When The Day Turns Into Night,
and I’m happy to report it’s included here and done exceedingly well.
The lyric is simple, yet as achingly beautiful as anything written by
more-well-known purveyors of melancholy than Rogers – if the first thing
that comes to mind when you think of Fred is puppets, this one may
surprise you – and Yarbrough invests the words with just the right
amount of tension, neither going over the top or leaving them bereft of
the necessary emotion.
My favorite cut is probably
Everybody’s Fancy,
which opens with a bit of light scatting before the main lyric (I would
assume the least favorite of Fred’s writings among some of those in the
GLBT community, since Fred asserts that "boys are boys from the
beginning, girls are girls right from the start", although the overall
message about everybody’s body being just swell certainly must
resonate.) The mid section features a very direct Lori Mechem piano
solo.
And then, there's
I Like To Be Told.
Originally written to address the insecurity felt by children when
parents go off on a trip or otherwise leave them temporarily alone, it
is here delivered as a bluesy torch song, and one can't help hearing a
subtle S&M component. It works.
I could
continue with a detailed description of every selection, but I think I’d
be doing you a disservice if I did so. You’ll be more delighted if you
buy the CD (or download the songs) and discover the good bits for
yourself. This is a collection of Fred Rogers’ songs that will, if you
listen to it in the company of a significant other, likely make your
evening all warm and tingly.
Mister Rogers Swings, indeed. Who knew?
Hear some samples at Holly Yarbrough's My Space page.
Buy it at Amazon.
**************************************************************
Finally,
it should always be remembered that fruitcake is considered the
ultimate gift by some. And since that obviates the need for any more jokes, I'm outta here.
Soon,
with more better stocking stuffers (which closer I will no doubt use again
this holiday season, but I'm re-gifting in reverse, whatever the hell that
means.)
