« December 2007 | Main | February 2008 »

January 31, 2008

Music Review: The Blind Boys Of Alabama Down In New Orleas

In the two and a half years since the flooding that followed hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans everybody seems to be lining up to pay homage to the role the city and its people have played in the development of African American music in North America. That the majority of the attention has been directed towards raising money for various purposes in order to restore the city and the musical heartbeat that is its soul has been wonderful. Yet it does beg the question as to where everybody was in the years before Katrina.

That the musicians, who everybody is praising to the sky now, were in the position that they were living lives so close to the edge that they couldn't afford insurance for their most valued possessions, including the instruments they depended on to make their living, in the first place is a sad commentary on just how neglected that community had been for years. Even before the levees broke people who had given their lives to the music were dependant on private organizations like the Jazz Foundation of America to ensure the basic necessities of food and rent.

The fact that people like Johnnie Mae Dunson, a woman who wrote over six hundred songs, including some recorded by the likes of Elvis, was reduced to depending on charity in order to survive is a reminder of how the music industry exploited the people responsible for its existence. The crime that is being perpetrated by the failure to rebuild housing and infrastructure in New Orleans, because it's cheaper to let people rot in refugee camps across America, is simply that attitude made into official public policy. (See the chapter on New Orleans in Naomi Klien's book The Shock Doctrine: The Rise Of Disaster Capitalism for a detailed description of the plans being made to ensure people don't return to the city)
the-blind-boys-of-alabama.jpg
Thankfully there are some people who are doing their best to ensure that at the least their friends won't be forgotten and are stepping up to be counted among those who care. It's not surprising that a good many are those who have seen their fair share of the injustices that the world can throw at a person. The Blind Boys Of Alabama are no strangers to overcoming hardship, yet have always striven to spread a message of hope and inspiration.

The original group was formed in 1939 at a school for blind, Black children in Alabama. Naturally the group has gone through changes in membership since then, with only singer Jimmy Carter left from the original group. According to Jimmy the group has always wanted to record in New Orleans, and now seemed like the right time to do it. "I can't get up on a ladder with a hammer and nails", he says, "But me and the guys can sing inspirational songs that will help lift people's hearts while they hammer nails".

They also made the decision to record with musicians from New Orleans, so on their new disc Down In New Orleans on the Time/Life label they've joined forces with Allen Toussaint, The Preservation Hall Jazz Band, The Hot 8 Brass Band, Bennie Pete, and Carl LeBlanc to present their music. While Jimmy Carter says they had to make adjustments, and learn how to work with some different styles of music, you'd never know from listening to this disc that these people hadn't been playing together for years. The combination of the Blind Boys amazing ability to harmonize and the New Orleans Jazz sound of their accompanists could have been made for each other.

Right from the opening song of the disc, "Free At Last", you can hear the differences Jimmy was talking about. Long associated with the civil rights movement thanks to Martin Luther King Jr.'s famous speech, I've only ever heard the song performed in a slow, Bluesy style by B. B. King, but here it really swings. Everyone knows how up tempo and rocking Gospel music can be, but this was different. While Gospel usually compels you to get to your feet and clap your hands with its strong emphasis on rhythm, here it's the melody that carries the song.

It's a subtle difference, but one that's noticeable throughout the disc, as familiar songs like "Down By The Riverside" and "I'll Fly Away" are given slightly different treatments than what we are used to hearing. Perhaps it's just the fact that it's not often you hear "I'll Fly Away" played by a brass band, as the Hot 8 Brass Band accompany The Blind Boys Of Alabama on this track, or a Jazz band like Preservation Hall playing "Down By The Riverside" that makes them sound different.

Quite frankly though, I wasn't overly concerned about why the material sounded like it did, I was far too busy enjoying it. Whether it was Allen Toussaint accompanying them on "If I Could Help Somebody", or either of the other groups working with them, the music was just amazing. I don't know how long this version of The Blind Boys Of Alabama has been together, but their vocal work is as immaculate as ever. Not only do they harmonize with each other, but they also seem to manage the trick of harmonizing with the instruments playing with them. At times their voices and the instruments blend together so that the lyrics, while still discernible, become less important than the music that's being created through the combination of voice and instrument.

What they've managed to do is take the music to a place where the sound itself is inspirational and is able to carry their message of hope and faith. It's like listening to some of the great orchestral works whose very existence is a measure of the depth of feeling that inspired them. It's not something I expected to find on a CD of Gospel music, although I guess it shouldn't come as too much of a surprise considering the quality of the performers on Down In New Orleans.

The Blind Boys Of Alabama have spent nearly seventy years singing messages of hope, faith and inspiration to people across the United States and around the world. When they went to New Orleans to record Down In New Orleans it was with the intent of trying to bring succour to the hearts of people who have seen their homes destroyed by storm and their hopes betrayed by politicians. While that may seem like a nearly impossible task, reserve judgement on their abilities to accomplish it until you've heard this CD. They just might make a believer out of you.

Music Review: Various Performers Rarities From The Bob Hite Vaults

The first time I ever heard the band Canned Heat was when I first listened to the original Woodstock soundtrack - the old triple album set. For years after that they were the band whose vocalist sang in falsetto. It was until years latter when I picked up a copy of director's cut on DVD of the movie version of Woodstock that I even discovered there was another vocalist in Canned Heat.

Bob "Bear" Hite wasn't called Bear for nothing. He looked like somebody from another age, a veritable mountain of a man with a mane of shaggy black hair and a black beard that you would call biblical if the man wearing wasn't so wonderfully profane. Watching the footage of Canned Heat that had been added to the extended version of Woodstock I had no idea who or what I was watching. There was this huge guy on stage belting out a Blues tune, and growling like a wild thing.

My first thought was some biker had commandeered the microphone from what ever band happened to be playing at the time. I thought my assumptions was confirmed, about the biker, when I read it was supposed to be Canned Heat who were performing - Canned Heat's lead singer was a falsetto - not some big bear who looked like he ate falsettos for breakfast.
Bob
That's how I found out that there was more than one vocalist in Canned Heat. I was saddened to hear that he had died young, from a heart attack, but I don't think I was too surprised. He was an awfully big man and if he lived with anywhere the abandon that he performed, well lets just say it would have put quite a strain on anybody's heart. I don't know if this is true - and I'm sure someone will correct this information if it's wrong - but I seem to recall reading something about him having the heart attack that killed him while rehearsing with the band after rejoining them in 1980 for a couple of gigs.

Considering his passion for the music, it seems only appropriate that he would leave in that manner, It turns out that not only was Bob an accomplished Blues vocalist, harmonica player, and guitarist, he was an avid collector of older music dating back to the days of 78 rpm records. Long before he helped found Canned Heat he'd begun his collection of records, and by the time of his death had amassed a massive collection. Unfortunately a great deal of his collection vanished when Bob shuffled off somewhere else, but fortunately some few hundred records ended up in the safe hands of Adolpho "Fito" De La Parra, Canned Heat's drummer for more then forty years.

Walter De Paduwa, better known as Dr. Boogie, is a musicologist and radio personality from the town of Overijse Belgium who also happens to be a friend of De La Parra. Together the two men have started the laborious process of taking those old 78s and transferring then onto CD so that these treasures can be preserved. Rarities From The Bob Hite Vaults on the Sub Rosa label is the first compilation that's been made available. If the nineteen tracks on this disc are an indication of the quality of the material that they have at their disposal, we can only hope they will make this a continuing series.

The earliest track on the disk is a 1941 recording of Pete Johnson's "Death Ray Boogie" and you can see from this track why he was acknowledged as one of the great boogie-woogie piano players. The rest of the tracks on the disc are taken from recordings made in the fifties and represents a fair sampling of some of the great boogie-woogie music recorded during that time.

The difference between this music and the early rock and roll music that Elvis and others started playing is this is played with more abandon, and is definitely lacking any of the hillbilly/country influences that defined Elvis's material and made it more acceptable to White audiences. You only have to listen to Bill Haley from a 1955 Decca recording singing "Birth Of The Boogie" to hear the differences between the two types of music. For those of you who thought you knew Bill Haley's music because you've heard "Rock Around The Clock", you'll be in for a big surprise.

That's not the only gem on this recording, well they're all gems - some just stand out a little more than the rest. There's a great recording of Etta James singing "Good Rocking Daddy" from a 1955 Modern recording, Otis Rush on a 1957 Cobra recording of "Jump Sister Bessie", the late, great Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown is "Taking My Chances" on a 1951 Peacock recording, and on the same label in 1955 Johnny Otis sings out that "You Got Me Crying".
Bob Hite.jpg
But for me the real highlight of the disc are the last six songs; three different recordings of Elmore James from 1953 featuring A & B sides from three different companies. That's when you hear a master of boogie-woogie at work. According to the liner notes, none of these songs were ones that Elmore was well known for, but that just goes to prove how good he must have been. It's hard to imagine how good he must have been if these were just throw away sides only ever released as singles.

What really impressed me about the whole disc was how pristine the sound is on all the tracks. That's testimony to more than just the technology used but also to the immaculate condition the originals must have been in. Any time you have to use digital "cleaners" on old records you're taking away some of the original sound whether you want to or not. The way they work is to eliminate any sound in the frequency range that the noise of pops, hissing, or cracks occupy. It invariably leaves the music sounding sort of flat, because some of the high end has been removed.

Bob "Bear" Hite, and De La Parra after him, must have kept the original records in wonderful shape, because these are some of the best recordings I've ever heard of older material after going through the analog digital transfer process. Rarities From The Bob Hite Vaults is a remarkable collection of music that might otherwise have been lost to the ages. It's a fitting tribute to the memory of a man who obviously loved the music, and a great treat for music lovers every where.

January 30, 2008

Graphic Novel Review: Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere Mike Carey & Genn Fabry

For as long as we've been telling stories, we've been adapting them to other media in attempts to gain a different perspective on what the story has to offer. From the moment the first actor stepped out of the chorus to start "performing" the myths and stories of Ancient Greece to the film adaptations of popular novels today almost every mode of artistic expression has turned to the written (or spoken word) for inspiration.

The visual arts in the West have always had a long association with literary adaptations, as painting. sculpture, and other modes of representation were preoccupied with interpretations of the Christian Bible for hundreds of years. Even when they moved on to more secular subject matter it wasn't uncommon for artists to draw upon imagery from classical literature for their subject matter.

Of course the use of illustrations in literary works to augment a story is an even older tradition, as the earliest manuscripts, predating the printing press, were filled with decoration and ornamentation. One only has to look at any page from the Book Of Kells to appreciate that. Of course more prosaic forms of the illustrated novel have also existed for some time, but it wasn't until the means of mass producing printed material became common that the illustrating of books began in earnest.

Harry Clarke, perhaps most famous for his stained glass, and Aubrey Beardsley both had great success with illustrating the works of Edgar Allen Poe in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. With the introduction of the comic book in the earlier part of the twentieth century, the practice of telling stories with pictures and words became commonplace. I can still remember as a child the Classic imprint that specialized in abridged adaptations of classic childhood adventure stories by authors such as Jules Verne and Robert Louis Stevenson.
Door - From Neverwhere.jpg
So it's no surprise that as comic books have become more sophisticated and broadened their audience base to include adults as well as children, that their literary adaptations have grown accordingly. Of course the work of some authors lends itself more readily to this form than others; the chances of seeing a graphic novel version of To The Lighthouse by Virginia Wolfe are probably slim while it wasn't surprising to find that an adaptation of Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere had been produced by Vertigo, the DC comics' graphic novel imprint.

As with most comic/graphic work, the adaptation of Neverwhere is dependant on the quality of its illustrations as much as, if not more than, the writing for its ability to tell the story. Like a movie or a play, the graphic novel is a synthesis of the visual and the literary arts. In some respects it's an even purer form than the others, because it only has those two elements at it's disposal, while the others can utilize sound and visual trickery that's not available to those working in a static format.

The story of Neverwhere is deceptively simple. Richard Mayhew is your typical office drone working in London England. His life consists of work and doing what his fiancee instructs him to do. He drifts along in this manner until one day he stops to help a young woman who he sees lying injured on the sidewalk. This moment of compassion will change his life forever.

The young woman he helps turns out not to be from the London he knows, but a London that exists underneath the city he is familiar with. Her name is Lady Door and we quickly find out that she is in serious trouble indeed. Her whole family has been killed by persons unknown and she's desperately trying to stay one step ahead of the killers until she can find out who was responsible for ordering the killings.

Although Richard initially doesn't become involved with Lady Door's quest, he soon finds he has no choice in the matter. Once he has been exposed to the world of the London below, he finds that the people in his own London no longer recognize his existence. Not only has his job disappeared, but his Bank card has stopped working, and his apartment is being rented out from under him. In desperation he seeks a way to find the Lady Door again, hoping that she can find a way for him to regain his old life.

He joins Lady Door and her companions and sets out on the quest to help her find the one who ordered her family killed. As the journey continues Richard grows and rediscovers his sense of self worth, and value as an individual that had been trampled under foot by his fiancee and the realities of working a boring office job. Although he spends a good deal of his time scared out of his wits, and wishing he were back in his London. he is more alive then ever.
Early Neverwhere Art.jpg
The author and the illustrator have done an amazing job in both telling the story and creating a visual representation of the world it takes place in. While they have had to streamline and leave out some bits from the original novel to accommodate the medium, they have done so without sacrificing any of the elements essential to the tale. What I found especially powerful was their willingness to let the illustrations speak for themselves and tell the story pictorially in places.

There are some truly wonderful moments, where they have elected to use large panels that succeed in both setting the scene and generating the atmosphere of the moment without any dialogue. It's times like these when you realize what makes this media so special, and how potent great visuals can be. With one or two panels they are able to accomplish what would take an author three to four pages to describe.

To my mind Glenn Fabry's illustrations captured the world Neil Gaiman described in his book perfectly. While I never develloped any clear idea of what individual characters would look like, I had an image in mind of what I thought the world should look and feel like. Fabry was able to capture the essence and atmosphere of the world perfectly. A sort of 19th century England gone to seed mixed with a strong sense of the exotic and fantastic thrown in for good measure.

For those of you who are fans of Neil Gaiman's novel Neverwhere and are looking for a visual adaptation of the novel, Vertigo's presentation of Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere written by Mike Carey and illustrated by Glenn Fabry is the perfect solution. It's as exciting as the original story, and superbly illustrated. What more could you ask for?

Interview: Bob Koester Founder And Owner Delmark Records

In this day and age of bottom lines and demographics controlling the music industry, it's hard to believe there are still people in the business because they love the music they record and sell. But when Bob Koester started selling Jazz and Blues records out of his St. Louis University dormitory room it was simply because he liked the music. Now fifty-five years, three or four store locations, and a move to Chicago later Bob's Delmark label continues to issue four or five CDs and a couple of DVDs every month of the music he still loves.

For about the past year or so I've been reviewing the discs that Bob's label puts out. That means I've been listening to everything from traditional Jazz, the Avant Garde, Barrelhouse Piano, Be-bop, Chicago Blues, and everything else that could fall into the Jazz and Blues categories. Listening to the music from Delmark Records is like being taken on a guided tour of Jazz and Blues music from the early parts of the twentieth century up to what's being played in the local club scene in Chicago today.

In one month I've received a CD of music that featured re-mastered and digitally transferred player piano roles, a DVD of a concert given by an improvisational Jazz group, a traditional Jazz CD, and a DVD of a Blues gig from one of the many clubs that are still thriving in Chicago today. One of the clubs that Delmark records gigs at is The Green Mile, which first opened it's doors in 1907. You can imagine during prohibition people drinking whisky out of tea cups and guys like Al Capone commandeering a table in the corner for himself and his cronies in a place like that.
Bob Koester a.jpg
There aren't not many contemporary record labels around that allow you to feel that sense of history, or even care about it. At Delmark they don't live in the past, but they don't forget about it either. Folk singer Utah Philps once said "The past didn't go anywhere ... it's a stream that runs by my door". Bob Koester and Delmark records have been panning that stream for fifty-five years now and pulling out chunks of musical gold for whoever wants to listen.

On Friday January 25th/2008 I spent a couple of hours on the phone with Bob, talking about the history of Delmark Records, and his personal love affair with the music. After talking with Bob I'm convinced if I ever want to write a book about Jazz and Blues music of the twentieth century, he'd be the first person I'd go to for information. He's a walking compendium of twentieth century Jazz and Blues. The interview you're going to read probably represents only about a third of what we talked about - stuff that pertains directly to Delmark records and Bob. But I think you'll be able to get a good idea of the depth of his knowledge, and love, for the music.

You actually founded Delmark Records in St. Louis, not in Chicago, can you tell me how that came about, how long you were in St. Louis, and why you made the move to Chicago?

Bob: I went to university in St. Louis to study cinematography. My parents didn't want me going to school in one of the big cities like New York or Chicago because they didn't want me to be distracted from my studies by music. Unfortunately, for them, there were Black Jazz clubs all around the university, oh I don't know maybe six or seven. By the time I was in second year I was selling old Jazz records out of my dorm room that I had picked up in second hand stores around the city. I also joined the St, Louis Jazz club, and they used to allow me to sell my records at their meetings. But I needed more space, so a guy name Ron Fister and I opened a store just a couple blocks from campus.

We were still selling mainly records that I would pick up of older recordings, you know buying up stocks from all over the place, but I also started doing some recording at the time, we did five ten inch records, and after they stopped making them I recorded four and half twelve inch records before I moved to Chicago.

A half?

Bob: Yeah I had started recording Big Joe Williams in St. Louis but didn't finish it until I was in Chicago.

How did the move to Chicago come about

Bob: Well Ron and I had split up, he wanted to start selling pop music and I wanted to keep selling the Jazz and Blues, so we had each opened up our own stores by the late fifties. The owner of Paramount records had decided that he wanted to get out of the business and offered to sell me his catalogue. He also told me I should come out to Chicago, that's where they were based, and he'd set me up as well. So in 1959 I came to Chicago and with his help I took over Seymour's Jazz Mart - which had been owned by the songwriter and trumpet player Seymour Schwartz..

I had two small trailers of records that I hauled over with me, but there wasn't really much stock in Seymour's so, just the fixtures and a cash register really. (Me: What about Paramount Records?) Oh, I never ended up buying Paramount because he had made a deal with Riverside Records that had given them the rights to most of the stock - so there wasn't actually much available. Anyway, I was still buying up master tapes from earlier recordings from companies that had gone out of, or that were going out of business. We're talking about stuff from the twenties all the way up through the war years (World War Two) and the late forties.

There was also the stuff I had recorded in St.Louis, like The Windy City Six, who are trad. Jazz (traditional Jazz) and the first band I ever recorded. I got Big Joe Williams to come to Chicago so we could finish recording what we had started in St, Louis and released that In 60 or 61. I also recorded Speckled Red, great Blues piano player.

We were in Seymour's until '63 and then we moved over to Grand Ave, and we just didn't have enough space there so we moved again until now I've got the store- The Jazz Record Mart on Illinois street, and the studio, Riverside Studios just over on North Rockwell.

The funny thing is you know I'm still releasing stuff that was recorded back when I started in St.Louis, although I didn't record them. Back when I was a member of the St. Louis Jazz Club there was another member who was a cop, Charlie O'Brian, and he tracked down all these great old time players who had played in town during the 1920's. He was the one who found Speckled Red and Barrelhouse Buck McFarland. The disc we released last year by Barrelhouse was recorded in 1961 in the Robert Oswald's, he was the president of the St Louis Jazz club, basement. He had a basic set up there with a couple of microphones and a tape machine. There were a lot of guys I wished I could have recorded in St. Louis and never had the chance or the money really.

I guess I should have asked this first, but I'm a little backwards, why Jazz and Blues? What was the attraction for you to that type of music? 

Bob: I don't know, why not? (laughs) It was the music I loved you know. I never liked Country music, and growing up in Wichita Kansas there wasn't much else. There was a mystery to the names of those old Blues guys, "Speckled Red", "Pinetop Perkins", that made it sound really appealing - probably something to due with a repressed Catholic upbringing.(laughs) But I guess what got me hooked first was trad. jazz. Maybe it's because the only stuff I could find was old used 78s in used record stores.

It's still some of my favourite stuff today, and I can't understand why people are always dumping on it - I still put out a lot of trad. Jazz when other people won't touch it. We've got some great bands in Chicago - The Salty Dogs - and others. (Me. I really liked that German group you put out last year, the ones who recorded in the Ace Hardware store that used to be a Jazz club. Bob: Oh yeah, The Footstompers, they're coming back again this year, you can come and check them out. Me: That's a problem - I'm up in Canada, in Kingston near the New York State border, so that's a bit of a distance to travel for a night out.)

I know you spent a lot of time and energy on purchasing old catalogues like Apollo, and making new pressings from the masters and was wondering if you ever considered only doing that. Or did you always plan on making "new" recordings as well?

Bob: Like I said I started out by buying out other people's stock - you know buying a 100 records for a buck a piece and selling them for three or something like that. A lot of it was buying up masters of various companies - and it would take about three of four of them to make an album because there were only three or four songs on each tape. I still have some of those I haven't done anything with because of that - especially now when you need about sixteen songs for a CD.

The CD we just released, Mike Walbridge's Chicago Footwarmers Crazy Rhythm disc, was made up of two recordings. I had bought the Blackbird label back in 1966 and we released an LP of theirs. So this year we brought them back into the studio and recorded the version of the band that's around today and combined the two recordings for one CD. So that disc was a 50/50 split between the old and the new - and I say right now we are doing about 75% new recordings and the rest are reissues.

We're lucky we have our own studio so we don't have to rent studio time when we want to record stuff, and in fact we can rent the space out for a little extra money, because it costs money to do a recording and the sales in Jazz and Blues are so low you're going to be damn lucky to make it back. You know what percentage of record sales Blues accounts for in Amercia? 1.5%. Jazz is double that at 3%. We're lucky to sell 1000 copies of a disc in the first year of its release and after that sales only slow down.

We're lucky because we own a record store where we can sell our recordings, and we've got distribution deals with some online places and some stores. But you know there aren't any cross country chains anymore that will keep stock on the shelves for any length of time. Some place like Borders will only keep something on the shelf for ninety days and then its gone. I haven't got the figures for last year yet, but if we're lucky we might have broken even because the Buddy Guy disc did really well - but the year before that we lost 25,000, and before that 40 something and the year before that 65 thousand.

You know what was killing us - illegal downloads - it fucking almost drove us out of business, I'm not kidding. Or people burning discs for somebody else - same thing. I had two guys in the store the other day and one said to the other - burn me a copy of that and I'll burn you a copy of this - and bang there are my sales cut in half. And it's theft - because no matter what you're taking money out of the artist's pocket if it's a new record - or his family's if he's dead. Sure the publisher who owns the rights to a song gets the money, but they have to pay the songwriter every time that song is used.

It used to be we were paying three cents a song - that's three cents per song per record. Now its nine and a half cents and they're talking about raising it to twelve. When you start adding that up with all the other costs involved with making a record; packaging, distribution, hiring the sidemen and paying the artist you're going to be lucky to break even to begin with, but if people are stealing the music it really screws you. It's better now that they've stopped most of the illegal downloads and we're getting some money from places like I-tunes, but we still lose money to it.

When you got to Chicago had did you go about starting to record - did you just walk up to people in clubs and say - hey I've got a recording studio you want to come a make a record? Or did you already have some connections?

Bob: Well I had a couple of things that I had recorded in St. Louis, a Bob Graff record and of course the Big Joe Williams disc Piney Woods Blues that I released in 1960 a year after I got there, but yeah, basically I would go up to guys in a bar after hearing them and offer to record them. We would do it for a flat rate with no contract, which was good and bad. They could record with us and do a bunch of songs one week, and the next week they could do the very same material with someone else and they'd be in competition with themselves.

I've done the occasional royalty recording and those are the ones where you can run into problems cause the guy might think you're ripping them off. But you've got to pay for the recording and all the stuff we talked about earlier and that comes out of the same pie, and if they received an advance, well it was against the royalties - so right there that could be a thousand bucks. If a record only sold five hundred or even a thousand copies there might not even be enough to pay for the costs of recording the damn thing let along royalties.

I know it wouldn't have been an issue for you but others might have wanted to make it one. Was race ever an issue, considering the climate in the sixties and the fact that most of the people you were recording were black?

Bob: Chicago wasn't the south, so the prejudice wasn't out in the open, it was there in the fact that Blacks weren't welcome in certain neighbourhoods and there were restaurants downtown that wouldn't serve Black people, but you learned to avoid them. Once I found out which they were I stopped eating at them all together. They didn't have signs up saying no Blacks, or anything like that, but it was known they would serve them.

Most of the Jazz and Blues clubs were on the South or West sides, which were Black neighbourhoods. When a White guy showed up in a Black bar it was assumed he was either a cop, a bill collector or looking for sex. When they found out you were there to listen to the music and for no other reason you were a friend.
Bob Koestner.jpg
The worse time I had were from White cops who would try and throw me out of the bars. They probably thought I was there dealing drugs, or something. But aside from that I've never had any other problems. You know a lot of the problems were about money in the old days, cause there's no denying that people were screwed out of money owing to them because they were Black. Because I didn't do very many royalty recordings, and always paid what I said I would, there was hardly any of that problem.

You have a reputation as hands off producer, letting the musicians have their heads. What do you see as your role in the recording process? Is there ever a time when you do have to step in and nudge things in a certain direction?

Bob: First of all I'm not the producer anymore, Steve Wagner handles the day to day stuff anymore. But if I made one suggestion during a day's worth of recording that would be it. I'm not a musician so I'm not about to tell somebody what to do. I don't believe in production, I'm not about to bring in a bunch of stuff that you can't hear a guy doing when he's up on stage in a club for instance. Even if we did bring in horns or strings or something like that, I'm not going to be the one doing the arrangements.

It's funny you know because we had Luther Allison signed to a contract for three records, and he didn't want to honour it because he said we weren't producing him enough. I can understand if a guy wants to back and fix some of his mistakes, but to be honest I can't afford for some guy to spend twenty hours in the studio working on one song trying to make it perfect.

Anyway I don't want perfection, I want the balls that I hear in the club - the sound the guys have when they're at the point in the night when they've really hit their stride is what I want to record. When if pick somebody to record I do it because I like their ideas, what they're trying to do on stage with the music, not because they're technicians. Some of the guys I've recorded really don't play guitar all that well - they just sort of strum along if that - but the things they do with their voices is amazing, and that's what I want, what they do that's amazing, that makes them who they are.

How would you describe your relationship with the musicians you work with?

Bob: Well it's usually a good relationship right up to the point when they become you're employee. Nah, it varies from group to group and person to person you know. Like I said it's probably one of the reason I do so few royalty recordings so there's never any questions about money or being screwed. We just don't have the sales to make royalty deals worth anyone's while, especially the musician involved.

Delmark was one of the first labels to record avant-garde Jazz music that came out of Chicago in the sixties. How did that association come about?

Bob: I'd always been aware that Jazz had gone through and goes through changes. All you had to do was listen to what was being done from decade to decade. There was Barrelhouse and Boogie Woogie in the twenties and thirties, Swing and Big Band in the thirties and forties and after that Be-Bop. So when I was first starting out in St. Louis back in the fifties I had the first Sun Ra disc in my store even back then, and that was fifty-six.

One of the albums that I always made sure to keep in stock was the famous Massy Hall concert (Me: Massy Hall in Toronto Canada?) Yeah that's the one. Anyway that recording was of Dizzy Gilispe, Charlie Parker, Charlie Mingus, Bud Powell, and Max Roach - hell it's the only recording that is listed under five separate names, because you could put it under anyone of those guys in your catalogue and it wouldn't matter.

You know what's even more amazing, that album still to this day sells about 10,000 copies every year. The sound had been so badly recorded though that Mingus didn't come through at all on the masters, so they gave them to him before they pressed the album, and he re-recorded all his parts.

But when it comes to the early Avant-Garde, or you know modern Jazz that we recorded at Delmark it was mainly because of Chuck Nessa working with me in those days. The Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM) were part of a serious Jazz movement happening in Chicago in the early but and they hadn't done any recording yet. We're talking about guys lik Roscoe Mitchell, Joseph Jarman, Muhal Richards Abrams, Anthony Braxton, and Kalaparusha Maurice McIntyre. It was Chuck who produced those first two albums that we did of the ACCM, which ended up being the first ever discs recorded by them. We also purchased the Transition masters - the label that had produced Sun Ra's first couple of discs with the "Arkestra" , when they folded, and re-issued them.

What these guys were doing was some of the most important music being played at the time, and still is. I have to tell you I'm still not sure that I really understand what's going on all the time, but what's important is they do. They also brought back multiple horn improvisation which was a feature of Trad. Jazz that died out when the focus shifted to the solo work that was the focus of Be Bop. It's funny you know because these guys don't play Trad. Jazz but they draw upon it for inspiration.

That's something I can really appreciate is that they understand there's a history to the music and they're not afraid to use what's been done before as a springboard to bigger and better stuff. It pisses me off that the Jazz media ignores Trad. Jazz, and that so many people won't even give it the time of day or just dismiss it out of hand. The pity of it is that's it really good stuff (Me: Something that I've noticed is that there's been a resurgence of interest it in since Katrina and the flooding of New Orleans - maybe something good will come out of that and people will start listening to it again)

There have been lots of changes in the recording industry since you start, not the least being the change from analog to digital. Part of that change has included making it easier to film and produce records of live performances with DVDs. Delmark has recently started producing it's own line of DVDs, featuring live concerts in Chicago's bars and small venues. When and why did you start producing them.

Bob: Well you've got to remember that I went to school for cinematography so I've always been interested in film, it just wasn't economical before digital media and video cameras. It's mainly my brothers Tom and Steve who do the filming. Tom actually did become a camera man and worked on shows like The Rockford Files and was a Director of Photography on some other stuff. We'll sometimes use as many as ten cameras on a shoot.

Of course there was an initial outlay for buying all the equipment, but we thought it was a market move that would work and make sense for what we'd been trying to do with all of our recordings, trying to capture the live sound. We've had some good success selling them, especially at gigs. For a lot of the bands we record gig sales are really important because like we talked about earlier there just aren't the record stores there used to be that sell Jazz and Blues records, and keep them in stock.

It used to be that there were chains you could put a record in all across the country, but now you're lucky if you can get into something like Wal-Mart. The one cross country chain left doesn't even pay it's bills right now, and you don't want to be chasing after people to get your money because it almost ends up costing you more than it's worth. You used to have a great store up in Toronto (Me: Sam The Record Man - yeah he went out of business a little while ago) Yeah I know, so there's not much in the way up there of cross country chains either (Me: Well there's HMV and another small one called Sunrise, but I'm not sure if Sunrise goes across the country)

Well that's the way it is down here with Towers gone out of business now. The other thing is there aren't even that many distributors anymore - maybe four or five really big ones that get you into stores. But a lot of our bands don't play outside of Chicago so who's going to be buying them in Peoria or some small town in the Mid West anyway? So gig sales become really important because of that - and the DVDs give us something else to sell. People have just been watching the band on stage so a DVD is an attractive offering because it's a chance to be able to take them home with you in a way you can't with a CD.

You've been doing this for fifty-five years now, I guess the inevitable questions are when you started out doing this way back when did you see it lasting for this long and becoming as big as it has and do you have any regrets?

Bob: You know it's harder to get out of this business than it is to get into it. You end up sinking so much money into it, that you can't afford to stop. The past five years have been tough, and we're just starting to come back up to zero again, maybe. The DVDs have helped and we got lucky with a couple of CDs last year selling better than we had hoped. I can only hope that it keeps going that way and my wife and son can get some of the money we lost.

The only regrets I've had are the missing chances of recording some people, just not being in the right place at the right time. I almost did some folk recordings once, even tough it wasn't really my thing, but at one point there were some really good people playing in Chicago. There was this one time this guy was playing in town and everybody kept saying you should go check him out and all, but I kept putting it off. You know how it is, people tell you some guy is amazing and he's really not all that hot shit.

Well it turned out the guy was amazing, John Prine, and I went up to him after his show and said you know I've got a record label and I'd love to record you. He told me that he had already had two offers, one was from Atlantic and I think the other was Capital. I told him he should really go with Atlantic cause they had a better reputation for handling their people. That's who he ended up signing with, so I like to think I maybe helped him make up his mind.

But really you know, I've done okay and I've no regrets about anything.

Well Bob, I think that's about it for me, thanks for this

Bob: Okay, now go out and make me famous on the Internet, oh and send me a tear sheet (laughs)

I think it's a sad commentary on the music business and pop music in general that Bob Koester and Delmark records aren't household names considering the contribution that both he and his label have made over the past fiftey-five years. In spite of what he said about it being harder to get out of the music business than starting in it, there have been plenty of other independent labels that haven't stood the test of time the way he and his label has.

I think of all the people they give Grammy's too for lifetime achievement awards or contributions to the recording industry, and there are few who can match what Bob has done with his label. Not only has he recorded some of the best and the brightest Jazz and Blues players of our time, but he has salvaged some incredible music from the past that might have otherwise been lost forever.

Take for example the latest project that Delmark has undertaken. The re-mastering of old player piano rolls onto CD that were first recorded back in the 1920's and thirties and then later recorded on the Euphonic label. But if it weren't for Bob and Delmark this piece of American music history would have been lost. Go to the Delmark web site and look through their on line catalogue, or get a copy of the Jazz Record Mart's (the Delmark record store) newsletter, Rhythm & News sent to you, or download the PDF version and you'll get an idea of what I'm talking about.

But Delmark Record is more than just music and video. It's a history of the only music born on this continent. Every Jazz and Blues lover in North America and the world owes a vote of thanks to Mr. Koester for founding this label and sharing with the rest of us his love for it all, no matter what form it takes.

January 29, 2008

Music Review: John-Alex Mason Town And Country

I remember the first time I ever heard John Hammond Jr. and how impressed I was with the way his voice and the sound of his slide guitar playing worked together. It was especially noticeable when he played his resonator guitar with it's built in cones to amplify sound; he could growl out his lyrics in just the right tonal quality that he was able to cut through the sound of his guitar without shouting over it.

It was a long time until I found another player who could do the same thing, and Bob Brozman had his own unique vocal style that enabled him to work with all the resonator instruments he used and created. I say instruments because he played more then one resonator guitar, and he had also created a resonator mandolin. Aside from those two there hasn't been anyone I've heard able to find that perfect balance where their voice and their resonator guitar work together instead of the voice trying to overcome the guitar. That didn't mean they weren't out there somewhere, I just hadn't heard them yet.

That is until now, hearing John-Alex Mason for the first time. Looking at his picture on the cover of his newest release, Town And Country on Naked Jaybird Records you wouldn't believe that face had the life experience to sing with the authority needed for a church choir let alone the down and dirty blues required to work with a resonator.
John_Alex_Mason.jpg
Which just goes to show you that you really shouldn't judge anything or anybody by appearances. From the first syllable that eases out of John-Alex's mouth you know that this guy can sing the Blues with the best of them. It's not just that he's got the right voice for it, lots of folk out there can growl pretty convincingly without being able to sing the Blues. No what you realize about this guy is he feels every sound that he plays on his guitar and it reverberates up through his body and shapes the sound that comes out of his throat.

The next thing you notice about him is something that distinguishes him from the majority of folk who are playing these days, similar to both Brozman and Hammond, that this is a completely solo album. You look at the credits for the songs and you see it's only his name, but then you wonder whose playing the drums? Well he is, but not on a separate take, while his hands are dealing with the guitar and his mouth is doing the singing he's taking care of the drumming with his feet.

As a guy who on occasion still has trouble walking and talking at the same time, I can't help but being in awe of folk who can control their bodies sufficiently to do two things at once. To be able to do three things at once is beyond my wildest imaginings. Yet here's this guy, whose not only able to play some pretty hot guitar, leads and rhythm, but keep a steady beat going on the drum, and sing on top of that. Now that might not sound too difficult to some of you, but you try keeping three separate beats going at once and see how well you do. On top of that throw in the an occasional lead on your guitar, and never once lose your place in the measure.

Oh and if all that isn't enough, he also writes some great tunes. Eight of the fifteen tracks (there are only fourteen songs but he does a "Town" (electric) and a "Country" (acoustic) version of "Shake 'Em On Down" a traditional piece that he's arranged and added additional lyrics to) are original compositions, and the only way to describe them is to say that they were written by an old soul. These aren't the standard Blues numbers you hear from most of the new young guys out there about some girl treating them bad, or they're not getting what they want from life; what I call the selfish Blues.

The Blues he sings are either about universal things that all of us can relate to, and a couple that sound like they were created for just the sheer joy of writing and singing a song. "Rabbit Song" and "Steel Pony Blues" fall into the latter category as they are sort of nonsense tunes, but than they catch you by surprise in the end as he puts a little twist in their tails that makes you think twice about what they might be about.

It makes sense to me that almost every Blues artist putting out an album these days is including a song about New Orleans. The miracle, as far as I'm concerned, is how many of them have been so good, and John-Alex Mason's "Chef Menteur" is no exception. Some accounts say that Chef Menteur was the name the Choctaw Indians of the area gave to the Mississippi river, and listening to the lyrics of John-Alex's song you'd have to believe that he's used that interpretation of the phrase.

What I like about this song is that it's an acknowledgement of what New Orleans is and what it gave to us. "Don't forget what we got, from the original Melting Pot" sums up nicely how New Orleans was where four different cultures; French, Spanish, African, and Native American, all came together, and how important it is to remember what that means. Think of all the different music that comes from there, everything from zydeco to brass bands, traditional Jazz, Blues, and funk, and you can't help but think of all the different cultural influences that came into play.

John doesn't stop there, he also reminds us that individuals lived there as well, and rhymes off the names of Irma, Kermit, Dr. Professor and Fats along with a few others. This song highlights how sophisticated a song writer he is. He's taken his own personal feelings and expressed them in a manner that can be universally understood so that it becomes more than just about how he feels.

Before listening to Town And Country I had never heard of John-Alex Mason before, so I didn't know what to expect. What I found was another one of those rare people who when they sing the Blues they aren't just complaining about their lives, but use it as a means of tapping into feelings that we've all experienced and expressing them in a as universal a manner as possible. I was so excited by his song writing and singing ability that I didn't even mention he plays cigar-box guitar! Oh well maybe next time, and I'm sure there will be plenty of next times for this guy.

January 28, 2008

DVD Review: Wrath Of Gods

Let's be real; most supposed documentaries about the making of a film are little more than an advertisement for the film in question. There have been the exceptions of course, but the majority have been more along the lines of infomercials than anything else. Think about any of the "Making Of" featurettes that are included as part of nine out ten DVD packages these days, and what, if any, information that actually give out about the process of making the movie. Oh sure they'll tell you all about how ingenious the special effects were, and you can count on a couple of "on set" interviews with actors in costume and make up talking about how great everybody is, but what have you actually learnt about the story behind making the movie?

If you're actually going to document the making of a movie, you can't just pop onto set for a day or two and do a few set pieces with actors and crew - you need to be able to stick your camera into every nook and cranny of the film making process. Yet even all the access in the world won't give you an interesting movie without their being a story beyond filming the filming. Having sat for hours on end waiting to appear on camera for two minutes, I know from personal experience how boring modern movie making can be.

When film maker Jon Gustafsson was cast by Sturla Gunnarsson to play an anonymous member of Beowulf's team of soldier's in the Canadian/Icelandic/British production of Beowulf & Grendel he brought his camera along to make a record of the events. However, I seriously doubt he could have known in advance that he would have ended up with Wrath Of Gods.
JonEGustafsson.jpg
Knowing that shooting was going to be entirely on location in Iceland he would have known that he would have spectacular vistas to use as backdrops for whatever footage he took. But there is no way he could have known that making Beowulf & Grendel would turn into a quest so fraught with difficulties and dangers that it would demand its cast and crew have the fortitude of Norse heroes to complete the picture.

Director Sturla Gunnarsson's original idea was to take advantage of the extended daylight hours of an Icelandic summer to ensure as short as shooting schedule as possible. But almost from the moment they arrived in Iceland things were thrown into chaos. The production manager who had drawn up their initial budget had never worked in Iceland, and had badly underestimated the costs involved with working in the most expensive country in Europe. Compounding the problem was that the Icelandic kroner decided to shoot through the roof and rose 20% in value against the dollar. The movie was over budget without a frame of film being shot, and without its financing in place.

Without money they couldn't begin shooting, each day they delayed shooting they went more over budget, the more over budget they went the harder it became to convince the people putting up the money to sign the contracts guaranteeing the financing for the film, and without the guarantees there was no money to begin shooting. It came so close to the wire that there was one week where if the money didn't come through, they wouldn't be able to pay the crew and they would lose the movie.

Yet even when though the money came through it only meant they had a new set of problems to deal with. It delayed the start of shooting until the end of August and they were into Autumn, losing six minutes of daylight every day. That may not sound like much but over a proposed forty-five day shoot it meant that by the final week they would have four hours less daylight each day to work with.

Shooting in the fall also meant that instead of balmy summer conditions they would be dealing with the unpredictable weather of the high arctic as winter approached. You can plan for rain, and cold to a certain extent, you can even make contingencies in case of snow; but what do you do about winds of over 150 kilometres an hour? One morning in the first week of shooting the cast and crew woke up to find that their entire base camp had blown away.

You can't plan for the fact that Iceland would experience its worst fall weather in sixty years. There's nothing you can do but shoot when you're able to, and if it gets too dangerous hunker down and ride it out as best you can. Of course the more delays that occurred because of weather, the more you increased the risk of the weather worsening as you got closer to winter. Each day lost shooting to the weather also cost money, and made an already precarious financial situation worse.

The British investors were refusing to release all the money at once, making every week a potential cash flow crises where the possibility existed that the crew wouldn't get paid. So, on top of having to deal with horrific weather conditions, forcing them to try and film with winds blowing so hard that rain was falling horizontally, people never knew whether or not they would be paid that week.
Wrath Of God.jpg
What's truly remarkable about Wrath Of God is we are privy to all of the details of the financial problems as they occur on set. Gustafsson's camera is everywhere, seeing and recording everything. From the devastation of the base camp, crew members getting stuck in mud up to their ankles, discussions about whether or not its safe to continue shooting one day because the winds are still over a hundred kilometres per hour, and the threat of half the crew leaving because they haven't been paid.

Yet there were only two times that he was asked to stop filming - once at the very beginning when it was touch and go whether they would even make the film and they didn't want the investors to know what horrible shape they were in (according to the director, Sturla, the movie business is all about lying), and in the last week of filming when the crew hadn't been paid and a producer gathered everybody together, cast and crew, to explain the situation. But even then, another producer took Gustafsson aside, and on camera, told him exactly what was going on.

Reading this you must be wondering how in hell did Beowulf & Grendel ever get made? Well Sarah Polley said it was "sheer demented ambition" on the part of the film makers, but they couldn't have done it alone. To persevere in spite of those conditions and make a film as remarkable as Beowulf & Grendel, meant that all those involved had to be infected with that same dementia. Looking at the faces of the men and the women involved in the project you see anger, frustration, but most of all, the kind of fierce exhilaration that only comes from the knowledge that you're involved in something incredible.

The day before principle shooting started Sturla Gunnasson called upon the film's composer, Hilmar Om Hilmarsson, to lead a ritual guaranteeing the success of the film. For aside from being a skilled musician Hilmar is also the head of the old Norse religion in Iceland. Half way through the filming, considering what they were going through, people began wondering whether or not he had called down a curse upon the film instead of a blessing. When the winds devastated the camp site, Sturla merely smiled, and with a gleam in his eye, shrugged his shoulders and said, "Odin had a party last night and broke up the house"

If the cast and crew hadn't been believers in the Gods of Iceland before they started making this film, they probably are now. But it's interesting to think that while they were beset by the wrath of the Gods during the making of the movie, the result is one of the most powerful enactment of Beowulf that you are bound to see anywhere and anytime. As the Wrath Of Gods shows, when you appeal to the Gods for success you have to be careful what you ask for - they may give you what you want, but you're sure going to have to work to achieve it.

Wrath Of Gods is the story of the quest undertaken by a group of men and women to create the movie Beowulf & Grendel. Not only does director Jon Gustafsson manage to reveal details about film making that very few people outside the business would ever find out, he captured the spirit of fierce determination and pride that defined the effort that making this movie required.

As well as the feature presentation the DVD includes bonus material (no, not a making of featurette). Of special note is an hour long interview with the star of Beowulf & Grendel, Gerard Butler. It was recorded after a day's shooting at 2:45 in the morning, with him still in make up and costume. You can tell he's physically exhausted, but there's a light in his eyes that speaks volumes about what the movie means to him. It's a truly remarkable interview, and belays any doubts you might have about the commitment of all who were involved with the movie.

January 27, 2008

The Case Of The Missing Kyoto Accord: Chapter One

It only took me until noon to decide that I wasn't going to like Monday that week, which usually meant that the rest of the week lay stretched out in front of me as invitingly as a three day old corpse in July on the slab. August in Ottawa was so putrid with humidity that even the politicians have fled the luxury of their expense account lives and mistresses to return to the loving arms of family and constituents.

Obviously that meant a drastic improvement in the air quality for those of us still here. Talk about global warming and the release of dangerous emissions all you want, there's nothing that can compete with the Canadian House of Commons for being a source of C02 and, dependent on what was on the menu at the Commons Cafeteria, other noxious fumes.

I was sitting by the one window in the office that could open with a fan blowing, hoping to capture something cooling from the oozing fetidness that passes for a breeze at this time of year. Damn it, I thought, this is ridiculous. We're in the capital city with coldest mean temperature of any country's seat of power. Moscow may have slightly longer winters, and may even get days colder than Ottawa's coldest, but on average we take the cake.

I had entered into that pre heat stroke daze of semi consciences when the sounds of the phone ringing and someone rapping at the door nearly stopped my heart for good. Un-peeling myself from the back of the chair was a matter moments and allowed me to reach the phone within ten rings and yell to the door "Hold your horses". If I had hoped that standing at the phone would give me time to get what felt like a yard of cotton out of my butt cleavage, I was sorely disappointed.

The voice on the other end of the phone was succinct and to the point. "Where has all the water gone?" was followed by a renewal of the dial tone. Swearing under my breath at phone pranksters abusing old song lyrics I really wasn't prepared for what was waiting behind the door. Considering the circumstances I think my reaction was within reason.

She had to be about 5'9" and her three-inch heels only added to the illusion that her legs went up to her chin. Which should have been physically impossible given what lay between the waist and the long swan-like neck, but go figure. Human anatomy has never been my strong suit, but I could see that she would be a wonderful textbook if I ever decided to broaden my horizons and open my mind to new areas of learning.

I could tell any hopes that I may have had of leafing her pages were minimized by the "Holy Fuck' that had slipped out of my mouth on opening the door. The part of my brain that still functioned realized the longer I stayed there gaping like some slack jawed inbred was reducing the chances of me even getting a peek inside the cover. Even so it took a loud throat clearing on her part to get me to come around

Still not trusting myself to speak I stood aside and bowed her ever so slightly into the room indicating the chair directly across my desk from my own. Following her back across the room I was reminded of why I had put the desk at the point in the room furthest from the door. Of course it didn't do my equilibrium any good, so by the time we sat facing each other across a span of pine veneer, I was quite ready to jump out the window if she demanded.

She looked at me and shook her head slightly, which had the effect of making her ash brown hair float halo like around her face. "All you guys are the same aren't you," she said piercing me with the ice chips that were her steel grey eyes. I all of sudden felt pinned to the back of my chair like a butterfly under glass.

After three false tries I managed to get my voice to squeak out " What brings you here today, Miss, what can I do for you?" Instead of the hoped for steady and reassuring voice that was normally at my disposal, I sounded like I had small cricket in my throat.

She looked at me with a grim little smile that implied she didn't think there was much of anything that I'd be able to help her with, but her options were limited. "First of all it's Mrs. not Miss, Ms. or anything implying availability of any kind what so ever." She paused to see what kind of effect that might have on me. Since I was still too numb to do anything but sit and nod blanked faced, there was nothing to indicate how much or little impact her being married might have affected me.

With a purse of her lips, which could have expressed some mild disappointment in reaction to my seemingly nonchalant attitude about her place on the open market she began to talk again. It turns out this drop dead gorgeous woman is in fact a professor of Marine Biology specializing in ecosystems and other words that just were too many syllables for a day like this.

She talked about a lot of things that didn't make any sense but a picture started to evolve of something terrible happening. The average mean temperature was rising around the world by a degree or so a year, and had been for the last ten year or so. Sure it meant warmer winters, but that meant less snow, which meant less spring melt.

When the spring melt is reduced, the water table is reduced and the level in the rivers and lakes drops. The less ground water there is the lower the likelihood of rain which in turn depletes the water table and the lakes and rivers and so on. She stopped than and I looked at her in horror.

"If it's allowed to continue the climate will continue to change and we'll be living in a desert but worse. A dessert has its own natural ecosystem, but here if there is an enforced desert the first things to go will be the trees, followed by the shrubbery and then finally the smaller plants

Farm crops will be devastated and we will no longer be able to produce basics like corn and wheat in amounts sufficient for feeding ourselves. The animal life won't be able to adapt quickly enough as there won't be time for successful mutations to increase the gene pool and allow evolution to occur."

For the second time that day she had stunned me and left me sitting with my jaw agape. This couldn't be possible was my first thought, but it was of course, even during the ice break-up during the spring the Ottawa River failed to rise to the level it had achieved last year let alone any of the previous ones.

She watched me come to these realizations on my own before she continued, " What I need you to do is find out what happened to the Kyoto accord. Parliament had ratified it in the last administration, but now Steven Harper and his Conservative Party Of Canada have said they are going to renege on our country's commitments to meeting certain reductions in toxic emissions.

We think somebody got to him and is putting pressure on him to do this. There can be no other reason whatsoever to go back on a promise to the world. No one could be that inconsiderate or stupid without having a good reason."

She stopped again and looked straight into my eyes, those grey chips of ice had melted into something sad and scared. "Please find the Kyoto accord and bring it back. It wasn't the best solution in the world but it was the only one we had"

How could I say no to that?

January 26, 2008

Book Review: Un Lun Dun China Mieville

If you've ever been to one of the older cities in Europe, Paris, London, or Rome you'll know what it's like to feel the weight of history bearing down on you when you walk through certain parts of the city. There are areas in those cities and certain others where humans have lived for well over a thousand years, and in some instances even longer. I remember getting off the plane in Athens - after fifteen hours in transit - walking out of the airport and almost being bowled over by the weight of history that came from seeing the Acropolis the first time.

London may not be as old as Athens, or even Rome, but there are parts of it where you feel like if you turn a corner you'd all of a sudden drop into another time, almost another world. Enter into one of the twisty back alleys that run off any of the main streets that make up the old City Of London, and there's the feeling if you only knew the right way of looking you'd be able to see into them.

In a great many of these older cities the new buildings, the new city itself in some places, has been built over top of the remains of its older versions. Catacombs that were once streets where a city's populace carried out their lives can be found buried beneath many a city in Europe; empty caverns of brick and mortar patiently waiting to be useful again.
Un Lun Dun.jpg
It's little wonder that authors have been inspired to create stories that centre around alternative or separate versions of these cities. The most recent of these stories is China Mieville's strange and wonderful
Un Lun Dun published by Random House Canada through it's Del Rey imprint.

Un Lun Dun exists somewhere where London isn't; maybe beside it, maybe beneath it, at the very least near by enough so things, and occasionally people, slip through for a visit or to stay. Most of what comes through is Mildly Obsolete In London, referred to by Un Lun Duners as moil. Anything left lying around that is considered junk by Londeners, old computers, the out of date fridge, even vinyl records, will eventually make its way into Un Lun Dun where it will be put to good use as building materials.

Zanna and her best friend Deeba are ordinary twelve year old girls in ordinary London, who notice that extraordinary things are starting to happen to Zanna. How many times have you had a fox come up to you in your school yard and bow to you? Or a bus driver approach you in the coffee shop where you and your friends are sitting after school and stammer out how pleased to meet you she is and call you by the title of Shwazzy. To make matters worse the very next day a post man was waiting for Zanna outside her house when she went to school with a note saying, we'll see you soon, and a pass for what looks to be strange version of the London Transit system, in the name of Shwazzy!

Well as you can guess Zanna and Deeba are drawn into Un Lun Don where they learn of the prophesy that foretells the coming of the Swazzy who will defeat the Smog. The book of Prophesies describes Zanna down to the last letter, and as the book says himself - everything written in him is either true or will be true. But then something goes horrible wrong and it's up to Deeba to save the day.

At first that means getting Zanna safely home to London, but it ends up with Deeba being the one who is called upon to protect the Un Lun Duners from the horrible plans of Smog and its allies who want to take over the city. So she returns to Un Lun Dun where she's joined by a band of motley followers who to set out on a quest for the one weapon that can defeat the The Smog - The Un- Gun.

China Mieville has created a world that is filled with strangeness, beauty, and wondrous oddities. Creatures come to life made from the words that one character speaks, carnivorous packs of giraffes roam the streets at night looking for prey, highly skilled guards known as binja's, (trash bins that are ninja warriors), Black Window Spiders (windows with eight legs that guard the treasures of Webminster Abbey), and of course Hemi the half ghost boy who becomes Deeba's closest companion (his mother was a ghost and his father alive).

These are just a small sampling of those who inhabit Un Lon Dun. Just as in our world some act like they do because that's just who they are, the flesh eating giraffes and the Black Windows, while others act just like humans in spite of their inhuman appearances. It means that in turn they are brave, afraid, mean, gentle, and all the rest of the things that qualify a being to be considered rational and aware - even if they are a book of prophesies or an old fashioned diving suit named Skool that turns out to be filled with water and fish.
China Mieville.jpg
At first no one is prepared to listen to Deeba, after all the book of prophesies describes her as the Swazzy's funny sidekick, so who is going to take her seriously, and believe her when she tries to warn them of the threat they are under. But as she and her companions have more and more success, and are finaly able to collect the Un Gun, Deeba is gradually accepted and eventually becomes the leader of the resistance against Smog.

Un Lun Dun is not only a wonderfully funny, exciting, and even a little bit sad and scary, story for people of all ages, it also has a really nice message that I'd hope young people, and others too for that matter, can pick up on. No matter what anyone says about you, or what other people believe you are capable of, you make your own destiny and control your own fate. For although it is written that Zanna is the Swazzy who will save Un Lun Dun, it is Deeba who must find the courage within herself to confront not only her fears, but the evil minions of Smog and eventually Smog himself.

China Mieville includes a thank you to Neil Gaiman in his acknowledgements, where he make reference to Mr/ Gaiman's book Neverwhere. While it's true that both books take place in alternative Londond, they really don't have all that much else in common. While Un Lun Dun might have it's scary moments, there's nothing of the nightmare quality or atmosphere that prevails in Neverwhere. Un Lun Dun seems a much friendlier place, one you'd be more inclined to want to visit again, than the alternative setting in Neverwhere

Un Lun Dun is the work of a mind with a vivid imagination, a remarkably strange sense of humour, and on top of that is a wonderful adventure story filled with great characters and some truly bizarre locations. If you have the ability to suspend your disbelief, and a taste for the fantastic, than Un Lun Dun should definitely be on your reading list.

China Mielville's Un Lun Dunwill be released on January 29th 2008 and Canadian readers can pick up a copy of either directly from Random House Canada or through an online retailer like href="http://www.chapters.indigo.ca/">Indigo Books

January 24, 2008

Music DVD Review: Kinky Friedman And The Texas Jewboys Kinky Friedman Live From Austin Tx

Country music is an oft maligned creature, and quite often for good reason. The big haired women, the men in the rhinestone suites, and the songs about truck drivers, railroad trains, cheating wives, and prison all make it an easy target for people's ridicule. During times when other forms of popular music have been actually taking risks and doing something new, Country always seems to deliberately become even more conservative.

Perhaps because of its roots in the mid-west and the bible belt of the United States, Country music seems to be quicker than most to wrap itself in the flag, call upon God, and believe in my country right or wrong. I have to admit that attitude has alienated me more than anything else from the music. Quite a lot of the old time country music really appealed to me actually, but all that talk of Jesus and America was a little off putting to a Canadian urban Jew.

"Will The Circle Be Unbroken" and "In The Sweet Bye & Bye" are great tunes, but lyrically there wasn't much there for me to relate too. Even guys like Kris Kristofferson turned into Sunday morning, hangover Christians. One moment he'd be singing "Me And Bobby Mcgee" and "The Pilgrim" and then the next guilt ridden stuff like "Why Me Lord".
kinky friedman.jpg
It wasn't until well after the heyday of his career was behind him, that I discovered the one man who could have reached out to me, and helped bridge that cultural divide. Even when I did finally hear the name Kinky Friedman his playing days were well behind him. I never had the opportunity to see Kinky Friedman And The Texas Jewboys during their heyday, but they left behind a catalogue of song titles, including the likes of "I'm Proud To Be An Asshole From El Passo", "Ride 'Em Jewboy", and "They Don't Make Jews Like Jesus Anymore", that not only intrigued me but has kept my curiosity piqued for the last twenty years.

Thirty-two years ago, in November of 1975, Kinky and The Texas Jewboys recorded an episode of the famed television show Austin City Limits. Unbeknown to anyone at the time they created history that night - it is still the one and only concert filmed for the show that has never aired. For reasons that have never been explained, the powers that be decided that the delicate sensitivities of the American public wouldn't have been able to handle the performance. But somehow or other a tape of that show has managed to survive, and the good folk at New West Records have just released a DVD version of Kinky Friedman: Live From Austin Tx.

For those of you like me who never had the opportunity to experience Kinky and the gang in full howl, and believe me I do mean howl, it's like nothing you'll have ever seen before or are likely to see again. Those of you who have had the pleasure of reading any of Kinky's detective novels will have experienced his brand of humour and will be somewhat prepared for what for you are about to witness. Everybody else, well, just sit back and hold on tight because you're in for the ride of your life.

Right from the get go you know that you're in for something different from your standard country, country/rock, fare that's usually served up on Austin City Limits when you take a quick gander at the way Kinky and the rest of the band is dressed. From Little Jewford (Jeff Shelby) Shelby on piano to Skycap Adam on bass the boys are decked out in a mixture of clothes that make them look like a cross between a parody of every Country band you've seen and a travelling Medicine Show.

Then of course there's the material and Kinky's in between song patter. It's not often you'll hear a song about Amelia Earhart, let alone a country song complete with yodels, but "Amelia Earhart's Last Flight" is just that. Now there's not much about that song anybody would have considered offensive, and aside from Kinky's comment about a couple of departing audience members coming down with a case of the "Hebe Jeebies", there hadn't been much of anything said that could have upset anybody - of course that was only the first song.

Things sort of went uphill, or downhill depending on your point of view, from there. Double entendres and inferences began flying, both during and between the songs, and behaviour became more and more outlandish. "Men's Room L.A." is a tribute to the bounty of the Lord and his graciousness in allowing his image to be used when nothing else is available and you're caught with your pants down and an empty toilet roll. "Carryin' The Torch" is in honour of the upcoming bicentennial celebrations, and includes patriotic flag bedecked drum sticks and a tear in your eye, catch in the throat, tribute to Lady Liberty.
Kinky Trio Plays.jpg
Songs like those and "Miss Nickelodian", featuring the band decking themselves out in faux Indian headgear and dancing a mock war dance, are so over the top and ridiculous that it's hard to believe anybody taking them seriously. At the same time they're very deliberate in their satire and attacking most of what mainstream Country music holds dear. This becomes very clear when they get down to near the end of the night's festivities.

"Asshole From El Paso" is sung to the tune of Merle Haggard's "Okie From Muskogee", and turns it into an attack on the same attitudes and values that Merle was defending. Lines like "And the wetbacks still get twenty cents an hour" probably didn't make Kinky any friends that night with the producers, but most of the audience, being from Austin, seemed to approve. "They Don't Make Jews Like Jesus Anymore" is a great anthem of fighting back against racism, as it talks about not turning the other cheek and beating the crap out of a racist. Of course lines like "We Jews always believed it was Santa Claus that killed Jesus" might not go over so well with certain members of society.

Musically, these guys are one of the hottest bands I've seen play in a while. Of particular note is Ken "Snakebite" Jacobs (now with the New Orleans Nightcrawlers) who plays alto, tenor, and soprano saxophone with equal proficiency, as well as playing flute, and piano when Little Jewford Shelby was called upon to play accordion. Kinky's voice is quite extraordinary; he'll be cruising along sounding like your typical cowboy country singer with a catch in his voice and a drawl, when all of a sudden he'll kick into a Frankie Vali type falsetto that's letter perfect. It's a little disconcerting to start with, takes you by surprise, but he uses it beautifully and sparingly enough that's it effective.

Thus it's even more surprising when he sneaks in a straight song, like "Get A Long Little Jew Boy", a beautiful tribute to both people who died in the holocaust and the history of the Jewish diaspora. Not only is the song very moving, but it also gives you a glimmer of insight into why Kinky did the whole Jewish cowboy shtick. In a few words he draws a connection between the wandering, homeless cowboy and the homeless Jew drifting from place to place.

I don't know if there's a television station out there that would air Kinky Friedman: Live From Austin Tx today, so I can understand the producers reluctance to air it back in 1975 when it was recorded. It's unfortunate, because Kinky Friedman And The Texas Jewboys are not only one of the best satirical bands to come down the pipe, but musically brilliant too. Take advantage of this opportunity to catch them live and in their prime, because who knows if there will ever be another chance.

Graphic Novel Review: The Complete Persepolis Marjane Satrapi

As a kid I used to love comics. Almost anything put out by Marvel, from The Avengers to Dr. Strange were read and re-read by myself and my older brother. We weren't the collector types, there wasn't a plastic sleeve to be found in our house, comics were to be read and enjoyed. Our parents were suitably appalled, that their otherwise well read sons could devote so much time, and money, to reading comics.

Around the time we stopped buying seriously, 1980, comics were just beginning to enter into the graphic novel era. It was still long before the days of people like Neil Gaiman but large format issues featuring stalwarts of the Marvel and DC Universes were starting to appear. Some were merely omnibus collections of a particular sequence of comics gathered together, but some were stories specifically written and drawn for the larger and more in depth format.

Since Marvel had brought out Spiderman in the early sixties, comics had begun to move away from the one dimensional heroes of the forties and fifties. The graphic novel, with it's full length story and fully developed character was the next logical step in that evolution. I seriously doubt that anybody at that time could have predicted that they would ever be anything more than glorified comics.

But with "serious" writers like Neil Gaiman not only adapting their work to the form, but writing directly for it, publishers, who ten years ago might have turned their noses up at the idea, have jumped on the bandwagon. Unlike other instances in popular culture where mainstream involvement has meant the watering down of quality to suit the needs of mass consumption, graphic novels have continued to evolve, tackling new and more complicated subject matter.
The Complete Persepolis.jpg
One of the best examples in recent history has been Marjane Satrapi's excellent autobiographical series about coming of age in Iran. Originally published in two parts, and now a full length feature film of the same name, The Complete Persepolis, published in Canada by Random House Canada through its Pantheon imprint, gathers the whole story together in one volume.

Starting in 1979, the year that the Shah of Iran was overthrown in a popular uprising, Persepolis not only tells Marjane's story, but the story of Iran. From Marjane's father and her own studies, we learn the history of this unique country that lies between the Arab world and Asia. Throughout her history, whether as Persia or Iran, they were constantly under attack and being invaded by one foreign power after another. After World War Two the father of the last Shah of Iran led a revolt sponsored by the British in return for allowing them access to Iranian Oil. Instead of the republic that most people had hopped for, they merely replaced one dictator for another.

The uprising in 1979 started as a popular rebellion against the tyranny of the Shah, but was corrupted. A great many of those who helped ensure its success ended up imprisoned, tortured, and eventually executed by the new regime. Any chance that there might have been for the overthrow of the religious leadership was quashed by the American sponsored Iraqi invasion, as those in power seized upon it as an opportunity to quash what remained of the opposition. Political prisoners were given two choices - die on the front lines as cannon fodder or be executed. After eight years of war nothing was accomplished save for the deaths of close to a million Iranians and ensuring the elimination of any opposition to the religious authorities.

Primarily though, this is the story of Marjane from the time she was ten, until her early twenties. We see how in the early days of the revolution people protested against women being forced to wear veils and the oppressive nature of the new order. Marjane's parent's were among those who demonstrated and hoped that things would improve. But as the war with Iraq intensified and conditions worsened, they decided to send Marjane to school in Austria.

In Austria she experienced the separation anxiety felt by all exiles. While on one hand she was delighted to be out from under the rule of the Mullahs, on the other she didn't have anything in common with the her fellow students. She was studying at a French school, but since she didn't speak any German she could barely communicate with anyone outside of classes. The aunt she was supposed to have been staying with made her move into a boarding house for students run by nuns, which only increased her sense of isolation.

But life is no better in Iran as she discovers when she eventually returns home. The comfort of the familiar is offset by the suppression of individual rights. In order to go to art school she must be deemed ideologically fit, she must wear her veil in such a way that not a hair on her head is visible, and she risks arrest merely being seen on the street with her boyfriend. In the end, after she graduates from school with a degree in graphic arts, and her marriage to her boyfriend fails she again goes into exile, this time to Paris, where she currently lives.
Marjane Satrapi.jpg
Ms. Satrapi could have told her story just as easily in a straight autobiography, and I'm sure it would have made for fascinating reading, but by telling as a graphic novel she brings a visual dimension to it that increases it's impact. The graphics themselves are plain black and white, pen and ink drawings, but her ability to use imagery to tell the story as a compliment to dialogue and narration makes them as effective as if they were in full colour.

The visual element allows her to include the offstage, and imagined, action as part and parcel of the main narrative flow. Instead of having to impart information as separate incidents, where its impact is reduced by removing it from the context of the story, we see things as they happen increasing the emotional power of the moment. There is something about the directness of her style, that allows her to do two things admirably; to distinguish between individuals easily with just small strokes of the pen (and when all the women are clothed in all over black that's very important), and the other is to make her depiction of horrors, death, torture, and anguish, emotionally realistic without being graphic or gruesome.

The other day George Bush got up and said that's its time for the world to "do something about Iran". What he has in mind, the bombing and destruction of the country and the theft of her oil reserves, won't do anything for the people of that country. All it will do is lead to the further anguish for people like Marjane Satrapi's parents and friends who suffered first under the rule of the American and British puppet the Shah of Iran, and are now suffering under the rule of religious fascists.

The Complete Persepolis doesn't pull any punches when it comes to depicting life under the current leadership, but it also makes you realize there are amazing and wonderful human beings who are doing their best to live dignified and noble lives. They love their country and would no more welcome it being invaded by a foreign power than you or I. I'm sure they would fight against any such invasion in spite of their disagreements with those in power. Just because you don't like your leaders, doesn't mean you don't love your country and want to see it taken over by a foreign power.

The Complete Persepolis is an amazingly powerful story about a person's struggle to find her place in the world. That Ms. Satrapi has chosen to tell it in the form of a graphic novel not only shows us how far that medium has come as a means of expression, but allows us a glimpse into a world that few of us know anything about. Before anybody makes any decisions about whether they think the world "needs to do something about Iran" they should read this book.

The people of Iran have suffered enough bloodshed and war since 1980, do you really think they deserve to suffer more destruction?

Canadians wishing to buy The Complete Persepolis can order a copy directly from Random House Canada or pick up a copy from an online retailer like Indigo Books

January 23, 2008

Book Review: The Flying Camel And The Golden Hump Aharon Megged

Was there ever such a relationship as that as the one between the author and the critic? Some have likened it to the parasitical tick feeding from a host body; the one being completely dependant on the other for its existence. For, if not for the writer, what need would the world have for a literary critic? Of course some would argue that the world has no need of literary critics anyway, but as it's mainly writers who make that argument it is not without bias.

To justify their existence the literary critic claim that someone must "interpret" for the layman an author's place in the world of letters and how he or she measures up to their peers and predecessors. Unlike the reviewer giving the casual reader a quick overview of a book's readability, the critic sees him or herself as the guardian of their era's standards, holding authors accountable, when if unchecked, they would publish with no regard to their place in history.

We're of course not talking about the world of the novel, mass produced best sellers read by the hoi polloi, but those seminal works of literature that when published sit on the shelves of bookstores awaiting the discerning reader's hand and eye. Perhaps not even appreciated in the author's lifetime, it will survive because of its contribution to the world of letters either through some stylistic innovation, or its insights into the human condition.
Abaron Megged.jpg
But how will the public find out that this work of art awaits them on the shelves of their local bookstore? Who is there that will assure this masterpiece its place among the pantheon of the great? None other than the critic of course, who through dint of his or her academic studies and position in society has been arbitrarily judged worthy of making such judgements.

It's in the close confines of Israel's world of Hebrew literature that Aharon Megged set his novel The Flying Camel And The Golden Hump. First published in Hebrew in 1982 and now available in English from Toby Press it takes the reader on a part satirical, part historical trip into the world of Hebrew literature dating back to the 19th century.

The protagonist is a young Israeli author with aspirations towards literary greatness. His family had immigrated from Romania and he spent his early years overcoming the stigma of speaking and writing the archaic Hebrew that his father had taught him. In spite of this handicap Kalman Keren is able to achieve some modest literary success, and stay removed from the snake pit of infighting between factions that have arisen in the Israel's short existence.

In fact when our story opens he is able to keep body and soul together through his writings and the occasional translation of classical French literature into Hebrew, and his confidence level is such that he has begun what he considers to be his magnum opus. However, he has only reached the beginning of page twenty-three, when to his horror he discovers his new upstairs neighbour is none other than Naphtali Schatz, the critic who is every writer's worst nightmare. The one critic of any import who didn't even deign to review Kalman's most recent novel, The Flying Camel And The Golden Hump.

Kalman is immediately rendered incapable of writing another word. How can he with that infernal presence looming over his head in the apartment above. Listening to his footsteps overhead is bad enough, but the sound of his typing freezes poor Kalman's blood. Who is the fiend eviscerating with words over his head - it could even be himself currently being mangled under the relentless pounding of those keys.

Through Kalman's insecurity and anguish Aharon not only launches a wonderfully funny, satiric attack upon both the critics and the writers who inhabit the literary scene in contemporary Israel, he gives his reader an introduction to the world of Hebrew literature and criticism. We meet the famous and the infamous who shaped 19th century Hebrew thought and letters.

The one who comes in for the most attention is Avraham Uri Kovner, a mean spirited critic of the eighteen hundreds. He took it upon himself to prick pins into what he thought of as the over-inflated egos of early traditionalists from the period in Hebrew literature known as the New Enlightenment. Eventually he became so eaten up with his own vindictiveness that he first lashed out at society by becoming a thief and embezzler, and than his own people by converting to Christianity and writing anti-Semitic tracts.

The inclusion of Kovner in this tale underlines that although Aharon has chosen satire and humour as his means of dealing with the subject of literature and the relationship between critics and writers, he does not take it lightly. He makes you begin to wonder why,when they both claim to be so passionate about the written word, critics and the writers seem to be constantly at cross purposes?

One answer, and I think a highly plausible one, is revealed in the relationship between Kalman and his upstairs neighbour. All the while that Kalman is paranoid about Schatz, the critic is equally certain that he is the object of Kalman's ridicule. Schatz is convinced that Kalman's previous book was an allegorical attack upon him and the work that he does.

If one were to take their relationship as being indicative of what our author, Aharon Megged, has observed to be the relationship between author's and critics in Israel than it's no wonder they are constantly at cross purposes. What basis for a relationship is there if neither the author or the critic trust each other? How can either of them claim to be serving anything but themselves if they are constantly feeling so defensive they continually attack the other from fear and insecurity?

Of course, not only do they risk ending up like Kovner, so tangled up in bitterness they betray their own soul, they are not the ones who suffer the most from this mutual mistrust. The literature they claim to serve, and the people for whom the words are written, the readers, end up neglected in the titanic struggle between two such fragile egos.

The Flying Camel And The Golden Hump by Aharon Megged is on the surface a humorous attack upon the pretensions of the literary world of contemporary Israel. Underneath it all lies the genuine concern of a man who cares deeply about his art, and a commentary on the sad state of affairs when those who claim to care about something, be it art, people, or even their country, are more concerned about their egos than anything else. Not only do they end up suffering for it, but so do all those around them.

January 22, 2008

Music Review: Keefe Jackson Keefe Jackson Project Project: Just Like This

I have to admit to still being a little intimidated by Jazz music. It's like standing in front of an abstract painting where your eye doesn't even know where to start looking in order to form an impression. With art I've been able to train my eye not to look for an "entrance" into the work and try to let the whole speak at once in an attempt to assimilate the artist's message. In some ways you have to start on an instinctive level, and evolve into rational thought gradually.

While it's one thing to be able to do that with your eye, to do the same thing aurally feels much harder to me. Part of the reason is that my ear is not as sophisticated as my eye, I've had very little music training and while able to distinguish notes and tunes etc, I lack the ability to recreate what I hear. This makes me feel insecure when it comes to my abilities to appreciate the music to it's fullest. It feels like I'm living the adage those who can't play teach, and those who can't teach, critique.

But I've never interpreted that to be a literal reference to someone's ability, more of a state of mind. When I hear that saying I always get the image of some bitter, failed actor, musician, or author sitting behind a typewriter thinking of ways to take revenge on those who have been able to succeed where he or she failed. Since the people whose work I review in these instances usually leave me amazed at the scope of their imaginations and the breadth of their talent I know I don't fall into that category.

So when I hear a disc like the most recent one released by Keefe Jackson, Keefe Jackson's Project Project: Just Like This on Delmark Records I take a deep breath, and dive in without trying to think about it. I don't know enough technically about what he and his fellows are doing to analyse it from that perspective, but at least I can give an honest emotional opinion.
Keefe Jackson.jpg
Sometimes that means of course that my first impression of the music is going to be the strongest, and in this case what I felt was that the mind behind these compositions has a great sense of humour. The first track on Just Like This is called "Dragon Fly" and it begins with two sputtering trombones emulating the spasmodic motions of dragon fly wings. The song gradually opens up to include all twelve members of Project Project, as they create a wonderful homage to the flight of a dragonfly.

Aside from the obvious homage/joke to the orchestral piece "Flight Of The Bumblebee" by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, it felt like there was a thread of laughter floating woven into the whole piece. Think of a dragon fly darting across the surface of a pond on a hot summer's day; zipping back and forth, with speed and agility. Now think of what trombone sounds like when playing staccato notes at the bottom end of the scale.

There are the inevitable comparisons to flatulence that spring to mind, but aside from that there's the incongruity of the brassy notes and the airiness of the dragonfly's flight. In fact before I knew the title of the track, the opening bars of the song sounded for all the world like they were revving a car engine on a cold winter's day. It struck me as a humorous way of opening an disc of music - gentlemen start your engines - but now the humour seems even slyer.

Normally you'd associate a flute or a violin with the rapid flight of something like a dragonfly. But on a second listening I had a clear visual of the big lumbering dragonflies you see occasionally - ones that look so primordial that they could just as easily be buzzing a brontosaurus as you - bumbling through the bull rushes by a riverbank on a hot and humid July.

Of course not all the songs on the disc are designed to create such vivid visual imagery, these are sound pieces after all. But even on some of the more discordant and chaotic tracks, "Which Well" for example, it really feels to me like the mind behind this has an impish sense of humour. Maybe it's just me but for a while it sounds like the collage of instruments, we are talking about a twelve piece band after all, are trying to simulate the hollow sound that would be found inside a well.

That impression is only compounded for me because it is immediately followed by a wailing saxophone solo which sounds like somebody falling down a well. Does that sound frivolous?Would you rather I said something about how the discordant and abrupt sounds reflect the panic stricken, anxiety filled atmosphere that so many of us experience? Or perhaps how the contrast between the melodic clarinet solo that follows on the heels of the torrid saxophone is a commentary on the choices we face when it comes to how we approach the difficulties life throws at us?

Maybe though it's none of the above, and the pieces are all about experimenting with sound and discovering the modes of expression available to them. I don't know, and I can't without asking Keefe Jackson. He says that he writes music keeping in mind the people who will be playing it and the potential for sound that each of them brings to a performance. These are free-form improvisational players who he is building a frame work for. so he wants to allow them plenty of room for manoeuvring.

It would seem that no matter what layers of interpretation I, or anybody else for that matter, wants to impose on the music, it comes down to what each individual creates from what he is given to perform by Keefe. While this sounds like it could quickly become an exercise in chaotic discordance, the overall structure of the piece dictates that they stay in contact with their fellow performers at all times. The result is always exciting, occasionally confusing, but always interesting to listen to as you never are quite sure what to expect from either the composition or the performers.

Keefe Jackson's Project Project: Just Like This is a great example of how a composor and gifted instrumentalists come together to create unique pieces of music. On occasion some of the pieces lend them-self to interpretation, but in general they are the expression of people who take great joy in the playing and creation of music.

January 20, 2008

Cross Border Finger Pointing

Two seemingly unrelated stories caught my eye in my morning scan through the news at the Globe And Mail newspaper's web site. One was the head of Homeland Security, Michael Chertoff's decision to ignore the wishes of Congress and toughen identification requirements for Canadians entering the United States. The other was the shooting death of an innocent bystander, Hou Chang Mao, on the streets of Toronto.

While at first glance the stories would appear to have nothing in common, there is a certain amount of irony in the fact they appeared on the same day. In the first instance, Mr. Chertoff deemed the threat of terrorist activity with origins in Canada real enough all Canadians entering the United States, and American's returning to Canada, will not only have to carry identification providing proof of citizenship, but an official document, like a driver's licence, bearing their photograph as well.

While Mr. Chertoff doesn't believe these steps will do anything to prevent terrorists from crossing over into Canada he claims that the step needs to be taken now to protect Canada from any backlash if there were a terror attack against the United States. According to him because steps to beef up security are being taken now, if an event happens that can be traced back to Canada, there won't be an overreaction, a demand to shut the border completely.

While I'm sure all Canadians are grateful at his concern for our reputation - I know I am - I fail to see the logic in his statement. If a terrorists were still able to get through in spite of his so-called beefed up security, wouldn't that increase calls for even tighter security, if not a closing of the border? He freely admits that he believes al-Qaeda is actively recruiting people with Western European and Canadian identities in order to circumvent the very obstacles he is suggesting as stepped up security measures, so his logic escapes me.

Funnily enough border security is on the minds of Toronto, Ontario area politicians as well. For the second time in a week, an innocent bystander was killed in a gun battle on the city's streets. Not only has this led to calls for the federal government to ban private ownership of handguns, or at least increase prison sentences for crimes committed with them, but for increased border security to stop the flow of illegal weaponry from the States into Canada.

While handguns aren't illegal in Canada, they are no where near as readily available, or as accessible, here as they are in the United States. This has led to the creation of the idea that there is a constant flow of illegal weapons crossing into Canada from the United States. Whether it's justified or not, this has led to the vision of cars with false bottomed trunks stuffed with side arms streaming across the border supplying Canada's criminal class with the means to stage fire fights on our peaceful streets.

You'd think that with politicians from both sides of the border wanting relatively the same things, assurances that their populations aren't under threat from the other country, that they could come up with a common plan that would work for both of them. But on this side of the border politicians are expressing concerns that asking people to show two pieces of identification instead of one, will cause irreparable harm to business and disrupt the travel plans of Canadians.

Maybe I'm a bit slow, but since these new border requirements are going to be for land crossings only, and a great many people drive from Canada into the United States, how much of a hardship will it be to have to present your driver's licence as well as your birth certificate when crossing the border. I can't see how a border guard looking at two pieces of identification instead of one, is going to, in the words of Canadian Trade Minister David Emerson, "significantly hurt cross border trade".

If that will impeded crossing the border significantly, what do people think that any measures taken to prevent hand guns crossing the border the other way would do? The only way you're going to stop someone from hiding a cache of weapons in their vehicle and taking it across the border is to either know about it in advance or x-ray every car that enters Canada. I can't see even the most zealous of Canadian politicians supporting that last suggestion, as it is bound to have a negative impact on the tourist trade.

So, there's the quandary that our poor politicians have created for themselves. On the one hand they all want to have a free and easy access to each others markets, but on the other hand they both have developed scenarios wherein the other country is depicted as being a threat to security. In their efforts to find somebody to blame for their problems - Canada's lax immigration laws allow terrorists easy access to targets in the United States and America's lax gun laws are flooding the streets of Canada with weaponry - they have created an even bigger problem for themselves. How to be seen to be doing something about the problem they invented without making their solution another problem.

Perhaps they should have been looking for a real solution to their problems in the first place instead of being so quick to blame someone else. What were the root causes of the terrorist attacks (not the reasons spouted by the leadership of al Qaeda but the real ones) and what could be done to address them, and why has there been such an increase in violence in the streets of Toronto? In fact it's one of the saddest commentaries on the whole state of affairs, how two friends like Canada and the United States find it so easy to point the finger of blame at each other for their problems.

Something amazing happened in Canada on September 11th 2001. With American air space closed and flights cancelled there were Americans stranded in Canadian airports all across the country. In every city with an airport people took it upon themselves to drive out to the airport to invite people home with them for the night. To offer comfort to a friend in trouble.

I think politicians on both sides of the border need to remember things like that before they start making wild accusations about whose responsible for what. America is no more responsible for violence in the streets of Toronto than Canada is responsible for terrorist attacks on the United States. Closing the border between our two countries won't change the fact that either event happened or prevent similar events from happening in the future.

January 19, 2008

American Election: What's The Real Issue

Living in the country adjacent to the United States it's only natural that Canadians would take at least a passing interest in the American political process. Most of us did one year of American history somewhere along the way through our secondary school education and know all about your three levels of government; the checks and balances that were supposedly built in to ensure one level didn't gain too much power.

There's also no denying the impact that American policy and leadership have on Canada given our economic and social connections. John F. Kennedy was as inspiring to a generation of politically and socially active people in Canada as he was to Americans of the same period and Canadians mourned his and brother Bobby's murders as if we had lost two of our own. Of course not all of America's leadership have had as positive an impression on Canadians with Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan, and George Bush Jr. all managing to raise the hackles of the public at large up here for one reason or another.

It was Richard Nixon who first aroused my interest in American politics, specifically his fall from grace with the Watergate scandal. The first book that I read dealing with American politics was Bob Woodward's and Carl Bernstien's All The President's Men, the book that detailed the opening days of their inquiries into a burglary of Democratic headquarters at the Watergate apartment/hotel complex and their subsequent investigations.But the book that really hooked me on American politics was Hunter S. Thompson's Fear And Loathing On The Campaign Trail.

In 1972 Rolling Stone Magazine sent Hunter out to cover the American presidential campaign, starting with the primary season. Fear And Loathing On The Campaign Trail is a collection of all of the articles Thompson wrote during his time traipsing across the country after politicians. Taken together like that they present one of the clearest pictures of life on the campaign trail that will ever be written. Given today's political climate there is no chance that any reporter will ever gain the access to the candidates and his or her people that Hunter had when he wrote his articles.

Fear And Loathing On The Campaign Trail also taught me something else - American politics can be addictive, habit forming, and injurious to your social life. People tend to get a glazed look in their eyes when you start analysing the results of the Iowa caucuses at parties, discoursing on how you think they are going to impact the voting in New Hampshire. They really start looking for the exits when you invite them to start making predictions for "Super Tuesday's" results based on analysis's of voting trends in New Hampshire and Iowa.

It's been a while since I've paid close attention to campaigning south of the Canadian border, but I started to follow along again this year during the Iowa caucuses. I must admit to some surprise at the results, and the first thing I wondered was, what happened to Rudy Giuliani?

In the period after the attacks of September 11th 2001 the Mayor of New York city was being touted as George Bush's successor almost before Bush had even won his second term. Now it seems the only way he gets headlines is with reports on his poor finishes in the primaries and the financial troubles besetting his campaign. Did people get sick of him? Did he peak to early? Obviously I missed something in the lead up to Iowa.

While he claims to still be hopeful of making a comeback, with all the attention on newcomer, another former Arkansas Governor, MIke Huckabee, New Hampshire winner Arizona Senator John Mccain and former Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney there's not much room left for him in the public eye. Anything less than an all out win in most of the states available on Super Tuesday could well be the end of Giuliani's political aspirations.

Do you remember the seven dwarfs? In 1988 while George Bush Sr. cruised past earnest Bob Dole in the Republican primaries seven Democratic candidates waged a war of attrition to see who would face him in November. Michael Dukakis ended up being the one served up on a platter for Bush to devour. After seven months of bashing each other the Democrats didn't stand a hope in hell of beating a relatively unified Republican party.

This year with three, and if Giuliani stages the miracle comeback he's predicting, four, Republican candidates publicly sparring for months on end, one would think they could be looking at the same bleak scenario with there being only two serious contenders for the Democratic nomination. But with the two Democrats being New York Senator Hilary Clinton, white woman, and Illinois Senator Barack Obama, male African American, precedent and election history are thrown out the window.

No matter which one of them wins the nod to represent the Democratic party they will be going where no one of their gender or race has gone before. No African American or woman has ever run for President of the United States before, and nobody can predict the effect either one of their candidacies will have on the voting population.

Will the thought of a white woman or an African American man as president frighten enough people to the point that anything but campaigns are mounted to ensure people get out and vote for whatever the Republicans nominate? Or will the hope of real change motivate the close to 50% of eligible voters who haven't voted in recent elections to go into the polling booth and vote for whichever one of the two Democrates secures the nomination? (According to an article on voter turnout in Wikipedia , the average turnout for an American election is 54% of eligible voters. Those figures don't take into account the unknown number of people who don't even bother to register to vote)

In a perfect world it wouldn't make a difference what race or gender the candidates were, or their religion either for that matter. (Ask Mitt Romney if being a Mormon has affected his candidacy) But we live in a world that's far from perfect, so we know it will be a factor in both directions. There are people who are going to vote for Mr. Obama for the sole reason that he is Black just as there are people who will vote against him for the same reason. The same is true for Mrs. Clinton in that she is sure to garner votes from women simply because she is the same gender, while others will vote against her because they will not believe that a women should hold a position of such power.

Fairly or unfairly America is going to be judged by the results of this election. In the eyes of a good proportion of the world it won't be won or lost because one candidate has been able to convince the public that they are the better candidate. It will be seen to be won or lost on the issue of race and gender.

If Barack Obama becomes the Democratic nominee and loses it will be because of his race, and if Hilary Clinton loses it will be because she was a woman. But I wonder if people would believe that if they were both running as Republicans and not Democrats? Is it only because they represent what America considers liberal politics that race or gender is an issue? If it were Colin Powell or Condoleezza Rice as the Republican against Al Gore as the Democrat would it still be about race or gender?

Would African Americans or women be inclined to vote as a block for a conservative representative of their race or gender as they appear to be prepared to for a liberal? Probably not given the history of the Republican party on social issues that impact both women and African Americans more than any other segment of the population. If that's the case the argument that the election will come down to a matter of race or gender is flawed.

After George Bush's re-election in 2004 much was made of America's division along liberal and conservative lines. Given that recent history doesn't it make as much sense to consider the two Democratic front runners as penultimate liberal candidates instead of in terms of race and gender?

The 2008 presidential election could very well secure conservative power in the White House for generations with a Republican win as the liberals would have fielded a candidate who epitomized liberal thought in America and failed. But should either Mr. Obama or Mrs. Clinton win in November, the set back to conservatism in America would be equally crippling. Not only will a liberal candidate have been elected president, but it will be one whose very candidacy represents the very essence of liberalism. In either case it will be a long time before either side recovers sufficiently to be a political force.

In reality the only issue that has ever really mattered in recent American elections has been the battle between the conservatives and the liberals for the emotional support of the American people. While race or gender will factor into the final decision this time, its only because both issues are part of the larger conflict between the two political ideologies that dominate American politics.

There are still the rest of the primaries to be run, and the final nominee for each party decided upon, but the battle lines for this election were drawn years ago. Even in 1972 the contest between George McGovern and Richard Nixon was seen as liberal versus conservative, and nothing has changed. The only thing different in this election is that the liberal Democrats are finally going for broke and offering a real alternative to the conservative Republicans.

Music DVD Review: Ghostland Observatory: Ghostland Observatory LIve From Austin Tx

Normally when we think of pop groups the configuration that usually comes to mind is anywhere between three and five people playing on a variation of drums, keyboards, guitar, bass, with either a separate vocalist or one of the instrument players taking that duty as well. There have been exceptions to that with bands that had extended line-ups like Lighthouse, Chicago, and Blood, Sweat, & Tears.

In the past it was very rare to find pop groups with less than the minimum of three, aside from folk duos. With the advent of technology that allows for the pre-recording of a variety of instrumental tracks, the potential now exists for even one person to climb on stage and create enough sound that he or she could do a performance. Still, there are very few pop groups that have taken this approach. (One that springs to mind readily was Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark, a mid eighties electro-pop duo)

So I when I heard that the band Ghostland Observatory was made up of two people I was intrigued enough to check out their DVD release on New West Records, Ghostland Observatory - Live From Austin Tx., part of a series taken from concerts given on the television show Austin City Limits
ghostland Observatory.jpg
If you're at all familiar with the show Austin City Limits you'll know that saying their usual offerings are country influenced, is like saying Johnny Cash had a fondness for black clothing. While they may have had Stevie Ray Vaughn and even ZZ Top on the show in the past, Merle Haggard and Willy Nelson are more what the average Austin City demographic would be expecting when they tuned in.

I wonder if they put disclaimers in their advertising for the show on which Ghostland Observatory appeared. Something along the lines of not being responsible for any heart failure or strokes that the evening's content may cause. The first clue that someone tuning in that night would have that something might not be quite right is when singer/guitar player Aaron Behrens was followed onto stage by the silver cape wearing, drummer/keyboardist/producer, Thomas Turner. Perhaps it would be then they would notice a distressing lack of Stetson's in the studio audience and how young everybody looked.

If they acted fast enough they could have still turned off their television at that point and escaped relatively unscathed. If not they would soon realize that this was not going to be your typical night on Austin City Limits. It's difficult to describe what Ghostland Observatory does, but they definitely have nothing in common with the Country, Country Rock, or even the Southern Rock or Texas Blues that have been broadcast in the past.

Try to imagine a tall guy wearing a long silver cape with a high collar bending over a keyboard and half hidden behind stacks of processors and effects boxes. Stroking a key here, twisting a knob there, he first generates the throbbing pulse so familiar to dance hall habitués. Then, with an adjustment and a tweak it veers more towards punk/funk. Finally, he's hunched over the keyboards churning out the melody for the first song.

While Thomas is setting the controls and preparing for launch, Aaron is beginning to stalk the stage. As the music defines itself his movements begin to synchronize with the beat from the speakers until he is in full flow. With a fluidity that is reminiscent of martial arts and jazz dance, he builds his movements to match the increase in the density of the music. By the time Thomas has seated himself at the keyboard - Aaron is in full flight and ready to sing.

Although the music doesn't lend itself to any particular style of singing, it was still something of a shock to hear him sing in up in the high range near falsetto that is the home to hard rockers a la Axel Rose, the former Guns and Roses front man. Yet, and perhaps it's only because he is dark complexioned and wears his hair in braids, his singing reminded less of hard rockers and more of the sound that Naytive men achieve when they are singing around the big drum at a pow-wow.

That impression is compounded by the fact that a great deal of his movement and dance are reminiscent of the Fancy Dancers who dance to the beat of the same drum. There's the same sense of him being one step away from losing complete control of himself while dancing that you get from those flamboyant males who strut and parade in seeming abandonment, yet who never once miss a step or go off beat from the sound of the drum.

Musically Ghostland Observatory is a strange mix of hard rock and electro-beats that is not going to be to everyone's taste. There's no denying Aaron Behrens charisma as a front-man and performer, or his skill as a vocalist. Thomas Turner is far less flamboyant, aside from what is apparently his signature cape he makes no effort to perform, but is no less skilled than his musical partner. It appears that none of the music he creates during their performance are the result of tapes or samples. He gradually builds the sound that forms the backbone for each song from scratch using various processors, effects machines, keyboards, and even a full drum kit. Not only does this provide the intro for each song, but it allows the audience the rare opportunity to see the artistry involved in the creation of this type of music.

Like the rest of the DVDs in the Live From Austin Tx. series the sound and video quality of this disc are quite wonderful, with the option of either 5.1 DTS or HD PCM sound available to the viewer. At sixty-five minutes in length it's the perfect opportunity for those who don't have any previous experience with Ghostland Observatory to be introduced to their sound and decide whether it's for them or not. For fans of the group it's a chance to see them perform in a controlled environment with great sound and a better seat than any live venue could offer.

Austin City Limits deserves a lot of credit for not only showcasing local talent, Ghostland Observatory is from Austin, but for being willing to take a chance and present music outside what people would normally associate with them. It's that type of attitude that will make an already wonderful showcase for talent become even better.

January 17, 2008

Book Review: Brave Faces Nasra Al Adawi

It's when we take things for granted that we are in the most danger of forgetting their value. When we forget somethings value, when we forget how important something is, we are also running the risk of having it taken away from us. It's easy for us to forget, for instance, the stigma that used to be attached to any open discussion about health issues facing a woman. In the not too distant past a young woman entering into her menses received no education about what to expect, and was convinced that any discussion about her body and its natural functions were taboo.

While the women's movement of the seventies managed to change some of the attitudes that had made it difficult for women to feel comfortable even talking to her doctor about the issues, the current backlash against women in North America could see even those small gains rolled back. Having taken for granted that they had won control over their bodies through land mark cases like Roe Vs. Wade in the United States, and the Supreme Court Of Canada declaring any law that hindered a woman's right to abortion unconstitutional, women in the United States have gradually seen control over their own bodies taken out of their hands.

Given prevalent attitudes towards women, and sex education its easy to see a return to the days when women's health issues, no matter how life threatening, are no longer considered topics for public discussion. It shouldn't take an act of bravery on the part of a woman to talk about the state of her health, but there seems to be a new chill descending over North America designed to silence woman's voices. Thankfully, any woman who is searching for a source of inspiration, an example of bravery in those circumstances, doesn't have to look very far.
Nasra Al Adawi.jpg
Nasra Al Adawi, a poet of Omani and Tanzanian heritage, has just published Brave Faces a collection of poetry and prose in tribute and honour of the African women she has met who are coping with either Breast or Cervical cancer. The prose sections of the book are either written by Nasra based on her meetings with individual survivors of cancer, individual patients recounting their stories, or by medical professionals discussing the state of female cancer patients in Africa and the disease itself.

With only two exceptions, all the poems are the work of Nasra (Nasra Al Adawi is a pen name), and are without a doubt some of the most purely emotionally powerful poetry I've ever read. In the opening chapter the book, "Breathing Africa", Nasra talks about how the death of her father from cancer roused in her the courage to become a bold poet, and his desire to be buried in his native Tanzania ignited her desire to leave her home in Oman and travel back to the country she was born in.

"I am not sure if poetry is a sensible way to fight cancer" she says in her introduction. While it may be true that words on a page or spoken aloud can't heal a body, there is no way of measuring the impact of the intent behind them on the spirit of the listener. Can you imagine the lift it would give to you knowing that somebody cares deeply enough about the circumstances of people in your situation that they are inspired to create poetry that speaks to your experience?

Nasra's poetry does just that. Without presuming to "know" what any individual is experiencing or feeling, her poetry speaks of universal truths that all of us can identify with. They're about the journeys of self discovery we all must take in order to grow and thrive, finding the strength that's needed to do what we want, and finding the means to keep going when the reasons aren't always obvious.

While Nasra says that the women she met in the Ocean Road Cancer Institute in Tanzania have been an inspiration to both her poetry and her life, the poetry she writes is inspiring to anyone who has ever questioned themselves. There's no false sentiment or cheery platitudes contained within the lines of her work. Instead she offers the gift of her own struggle with doubts, the hope of her dreams, and the compassion of her empathic soul expressed with eloquence and just the right amount of pride.

Those of you who have read my work before know that I deal with an acute, chronic pain condition.While, unlike cancer victims, I have the comfort of knowing its benign, if I were to allow myself to dwell on the fact of its permanence I could easily succumb to despair. Nasra's poems spoke to the struggles I cope with as if she had access to my innermost thoughts.

I can't speak for others, but reading her poems was like balm to a wound in my spirit. Hearing understanding from the voice of a stranger is an incalculable gift and one that I'll always treasure. I can't help but believe that the women who she has read these and other poems to receive the same presents of hope and understanding that I received.

But if it's examples of courage your looking for, the Brave Faces of the title, the prose pieces of this book are where you will find them. Here are the stories of individual African women who have had to struggle not only against the disease, but societal taboos that inhibit their ability to talk about their illness, let alone seek help. "I was ashamed", "I was alone", might be how they felt, and what their circumstances were, but that didn't stop them from taking care of themselves. Even if it meant questioning a doctor's opinion, travelling to foreign countries for treatment because Tanzania's state run hospitals are under-equipped and underfunded and only the very wealthy can afford the private hospitals. (Let's give a big round of applause to the policies of the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank. It's their insistence that developing countries like Tanzania cut funding to health care and other "frill" programming if they want debt forgiveness, that make these circumstances possible)
Nasra Al Adawi 1.jpg
But even more important is the bravery that each of these individual women have shown in standing up and telling the world their stories so that other Africans can learn from them. The message they are trying to impart is a vital one for women in every country, not just the countries of the developing world. Your body is nothing to be ashamed of, do not be embarrassed to seek help if you are sick - it's not your fault, it really is better to lose a breast than to lose your life, and you will be no less of a woman for its removal.

Reading the individual stories I could not even begin to understand the struggles they endured in their attempts to seek treatment or the difficulties they faced. To hear one woman casually talk about travelling first to India for treatment, and being so sick she could barely walk, but coming home anyway because she couldn't afford to stay any longer was heartbreaking enough. That the same woman was only able to continue her treatments at home because she purchased the medicines required for treatment herself, was incomprehensible. For a person used to free access to fully equipped state of the art hospitals its impossible to even begin to understand the level of courage any of this required.

Brave Faces is not only a book of poetry and prose about the courage to live one's life to the fullest no matter what is thrown at you, and it's also about people working together in common cause. Look at the opening pages of the book and who has paid for it's development and creation. Everyone from the Prime Minister of Tanzania, who wrote the forward to the book, private corporations like Avon and DHL, and medical professionals have come together on this project. Than there are the people who translated the book into both English and Swahili so it could be read all over Africa and around the world. Most importantly though, are the women themselves who volunteered to tell their stories, for without them there would be no book.

Breast Cancer is the second leading cause of cancer death in the world after lung cancer, and the most common malignancy among women. The incidences of breast cancer have increased steadily from 1:20 women in 1960 to 1:7 in 2007. It is an epidemic among women and nobody knows why. The only positive is that if Breast Cancer is caught early enough, the chances of survival are high, which makes being able to comfortably talk about it and access to screening procedures vitally important.

In North America we like to think of ourselves as forward thinking and enlightened, and in the past have been condescending towards the people of developing countries and their "backwards" attitudes when it comes women's health issues. Brave Faces not only refutes that opinion, it stands it on its head. The women we meet in Brave Faces are every bit as sophisticated and brave as their counterparts in the west, and the government officials and medical professionals, a great many who are men by the way, show a compassion and caring for these women that you hardly ever see in North America anymore.

Brave Faces was written to bring hope, encouragement, and education to the women of Africa when it comes to dealing with Breast and Cervical Cancers. In an attempt to help the fight against cancer all proceeds generated by the sales of this book will be donated to Cancer Awareness in Tanzania. However I think this book will be of benefit to anybody who reads it for the message of hope, courage, and faith in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles that it delivers. We all face various challenges in our lives; Nasra's poems and the women we meet through her will inspire all of us, no matter what we are dealing with.

January 15, 2008

Canadain Book Publisher, Raincoast Books, Stops Publishing

When the Canadian dollar started rising last fall most Canadians were excited at the prospect of being able to purchase consumer goods at cheaper prices. After all if the Canadian dollar was worth more than the American, we should be able to pick up deals on items coming up from the States. While there is truth to that logic, if a Canadian were to buy something that was priced in American dollars they would save money, it doesn't always bear out, and has actually meant hard times for some industries.

Even before the loonie (the Canadian one dollar coin has a picture of a loon on its tail's side and is referred to as a loonie) went above par against U.S. currency there were rumblings of worry from Canadian book publishers. Canadian book buyers have long been accustomed to seeing two prices on the backs of their books; one for the Canadian market, and a less expensive - by about ten to twelve dollars for a hardcover - one for the American market. Since most people have always put that down to the differences in the purchasing value of the two dollars - it was expected that publishers in Canada would be able start cutting their prices.

In reality the worth of the Canadian dollar had little to do with pricing of titles in this country. The biggest single factor dictating price is a simple matter of market size. Quoted in The Globe & Mail, Canada's national newspaper, Carolyn Quinn, executive director of the Association of Canadian Publishers, said that with a potential market of only 33 million people, you have to charge more in the hopes of recouping your outlay, than you would for a market of over 200 million.

In the face of an anticipated consumer revolt though, Canadian publishers have been forced to drop their prices between 25 and 30%. Although that has already translated into a four % increase in sales, and an increase if 3 % in total dollar sales for the fall of 2007, the long term forecast isn't as rosy. It's simple math, you reduce prices by 25%, your revenue drops by 25%. If your total sales is only increasing 3% that means you're taking an actual loss of 22% in total revenue.

While the larger international houses like Random House, Penguin, and others can probably weather this storm, the smaller distributors and publishers won't be as fortunate. In fact the first casualty was just announced. Just last week Raincoast Publishing of British Columbia announced they would no longer be publishing original works, and would be focusing on distributing imported titles only.

While director of marketing and publicity for Raincoast, Jamie Broadhurst, claims it's because 80% of their business comes from distributing American titles, and having to reduce prices by 20% across the board due to public demand is forcing them to cut their publishing division, something about that claim rings a little hollow. According to Roy MacSkimming, author of The Perilous Trade - a history of publishing in Canada - Raincoast has been reducing the publishing arm of its business steadily for the past little while and since a management change a few years ago, they stopped developping any new talent.

Adding fuel to the fire that this bottom line move has been in the works for a while is the fact that Raincoast has co-published the entire Harry Potter series in Canada with Bloomsbury books. In some years this has resulted in Raincoast books having in excess of $70 million in revenues. Harry Potter And The Deathly Hollows has sold 750,000 hardcover copies alone since its publication last July, which is phenomenal considering the size of the Canadian market.

Of course Broadhurst was quick to reassure everyone that they wouldn't be stopping publishing the Potter books, nobody's going to gut the goose that lays the golden egg after all. In the same breath though he said that the money from the Potter books were kept separate from the the other arms of Raincoast, and was used to allow them to become the pre-eminent book distributor in Canada. In other words they had no interest in publishing and were more intent on ensuring the continuation of the far more potentially lucrative business of distributing American and British popular titles.

In Canada book publishers are eligible for support from the Canadian government to help them offset the costs of publishing books in such a small market. But even with programs like the Book Publishing Industry Development Program profit margins are small. Yet that doesn't seem to stop small presses across the country from developing new talent, and publishing books. None of which make anywhere near the return that Harry and his buddies do on a yearly basis for Raincoast.

The Potter books aren't going to be some passing fad either - they have all the makings of a perennial classic, like Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. People will be buying them for generations to come. It would have been quite easy for Raincoast to designate a percentage of the revenue from those sales to underwrite their publishing wing instead of sinking it all back into the distribution of foreign books. It's ironic that foreign owned subsidiaries like Random House Canada, Penguin Canada, and Harper Collins Canada do that with the American best sellers they distribute in Canada, but a so called Canadian publisher won't.

While it's true the increased value of the Canadian dollar will make life difficult for Canadian publishers over the next few years, the decision by Raincoast Books to drop its publishing wing entirely, appears to have been in the works long before the dollar's climb. They have merely seized upon it as a convenient excuse to bring about the end sooner. It's a sad day for books in Canada when a profitable Canadian publisher turns its back on its own authors in favour of distributing foreign works. They really aren't a publisher anymore; just another business importing foreign goods doing nothing to develop Canada's industry or economy.

January 13, 2008

DVD Review: Slings And Arrows: The Complete Collection

"The plays the thing, wherein I'll capture the conscience of the King", says a certain young Prince of Denmark, expressing his hope that a staged re enactment of his father's death will cause his Uncle the King to reveal his guilt. Even in Shakespeare's time the idea of a play within a play was common enough, and over the years there have been a variety of productions that have featured variations on that theme.

They have either been like Hamlet where a play is mounted incidental to the central action but significant to the plot, or as in Noises Off been the focus of the production that has centred around a company's attempts to mount a performance. I've always felt a rather mild sense of dislocation in watching actors play actors, as there is something strange watching them create what are usually exaggerated versions of themselves. That's especially true of productions where there are characters who are Actors with a capital "A", and the characters have been rendered as a series of clichés by the playwright.

You can always count on there being an ingenue with stars in her eyes, a wise old character actor who has seen it all and knows every trick in the book, a bitter leading lady on her last run at good parts before being relegated to the scrap heap of character roles, a venerable leading man who will show up drunk as a skunk for dress rehearsal, the up and coming arrogant star who will be taught a lesson in humility, and of course the benevolent father figure of the director who pours balm onto troubled egos, and somehow manages to nurse the whole production safely through opening night.

It always has amazed me that people who work in theatre are able to go on stage or in front of the cameras and present something that does disservice to their profession by perpetuating people's perceptions of theatrical professionals as undisciplined eccentrics whose success and failure hinge more on fortune than on skill. Therefore it was with some trepidation that I began watching the seven DVDs, (six are three years of episodes and the seventh is bonus features), that comprise the box set of Slings & Arrows: The Complete Collection.
Paul Gross & Martha Henry -Slings & Arrows.jpg
What attracted me in the first place to the production, the fact that the lead roles were being performed by some of the best actors in Canada, also went a long way towards assuaging my doubts. I hoped that the combined skill of Paul Gross (Due South), Martha Burns (arguably the best classical female actor of her generation), Stephen Ouimette, and Mark McKinney among the regulars, and with guest stars the likes of Sarah Polley, Rachel McAdams, Colem Feore, and the incandescent William Hutt, that any deficiencies in plot and script would be overcome by sheer talent.

The New Burbage Theatre Festival of Slings & Arrows is obviously modelled on Canada's renowned Stratford Shakespearean Festival right down to the swans that float gracefully through the river passing through town. Like the company its based on, the New Burbage is struggling to maintain its artistic integrity while remaining financially viable. As is often the case in real life artistry, is coming out on the losing end. Too many of the artistic staff, including the artistic director Oliver Wells (Stephen Ouimette), are merely going through the motions without any real passion for the job anymore.

In contrast we are offered a glimpse of the life on the low end of the theatrical totem pole in the shape of the Festival's prodigal son Geoffrey Tennant (Paul Gross) as he struggles to keep his small alternate theatre alive by passing bad checks. Seven years ago Geoffrey had suffered a nervous breakdown on stage during a production of Hamlet at the Festival and had fled vowing never to return. But fate has other plans in store for him. When Oliver Wells is run over and killed, after passing out in a road drunk, by a delivery truck, Geoffrey allows himself to be persuaded to become interim artistic director. By the end of the first season he finds himself appointed full artistic director.

Each of the three season's six episodes focus on Geoffrey's efforts to direct one of three major works of Shakespeare; Hamlet, Macbeth, and King Lear. Each season the conflict between money and art grows, and the struggle for control of the festival between Geoffrey and the General Manager, Richard Smith-Jones (Mark McKinney) intensifies. Although he appears to get the point about the power of art periodically, Smith-Jones continually allows himself to be seduced by the lure of power, and the power of the buck until he is finally "too steeped in blood" to turn back.

The other major sub-plot that runs throughout the three seasons is the "star crossed" relationship between Geoffrey and the festival's leading lady Ellen Fenshaw (Martha Burns). They had first come together during Geoffrey's first stint at the Festival when they were both actors working under Oliver Wells' direction. She had been his Ophelia to his Hamlet and they had been madly in love. But when she slept with gay Oliver, Geoffrey, torn apart by what he saw as his betrayal at the hands of the two people he loved and trusted the most, suffered his infamous onstage breakdown.
Paul Gross & Steven Ouimette Slings & Arrows.jpg
Seven years later they both have to deal with the anger, grief, and unresolved feelings between them, while working as actor and director and figuring out what to do about the fact that they've never stopped loving each other. Further clouding the issue is the looming presence of Oliver Wells between them. Not only is his legacy all around them, the Macbeth Geoffrey has to stage is expected by all to be based on extensive notes and designs that Oliver left behind, but Geoffrey is literally being haunted by Oliver's ghost.

At first Geoffrey tries to dismiss it as a delusion, but gradually he comes to accept that Oliver is really there, and refusing to acknowledge his presence only makes matters worse. Of course it does nothing to reassure others that his history of mental illness is in the past when he is seen having conversations and arguing with the someone who isn't there. But in the end ghost and man begin to take pleasure in each other's company.

The creators of Slings & Arrows could have taken any number of approaches to the series; satire, farce, or even melodramatic soap opera. Instead they took a path that's not often travelled on this continent when it comes to television, and avoided taking any approach at all. Like the theatre itself, Slings & Arrows is larger than life, but if characters and situations are exaggerated, it is never beyond the realm of believability and always to serve the aims of the script. There's not a cheap laugh or manipulated sentiment to be seen as the script, direction, and actors work in together to write a love letter to the object of their mutual affection - the theatre.

As I had assumed the acting is exceptional from the smallest of bit parts to the leads. Paul Gross, Martha Burns, Stephen Ouimette, Susan Coyne, and Mark McKinney (the latter two were also two-thirds of the writing team) as the five leads gave wonderful performances. Burns in particular handled the extremely difficult task of making a flamboyant character realistic by allowing the person under the actor's mask to show through as often as possible without it appearing to be a conscience effort.

Then there's the Shakespeare. I don't remember the last time that I've seen such universally wonderful handling of the text by all the actors required to speak the dialogue. For those of you who have ever feared Shakespearean language and say it's impossible to understand, I challenge you to retain that opinion after watching any of the episodes in Slings & Arrows where they venture onto the stage and perform.

Watching the late William Hutt recreate one of his final roles at Stratford, King Lear, in episode three, is watching a clinic in how to speak the language, and to remember that power has nothing to do with being loud. And I defy anyone to keep a dry eye when Rachel McAdams performs Ophelia's "Will he come again" speech from Hamlet in episode one. These are but two of many superlative performances of Shakespeare placed throughout the entire series, and I can only hope that perhaps upon seeing them, one or two people might be persuaded that there is more to theatre than pyrotechnics or song and dance.

While some of Slings & Arrows might come across as an in-joke, the beauty of this production is that the audience is given a very real look at what goes on behind the scenes in a repertory theatre company on both the artistic and business side of the ledger. That the balance is skewed to favour the art over the business is a choice that may not be in keeping with the current political climate - but it makes for a nice change from how the arts are normally presented.

Slings & Arrows: The Complete Collection is available directly from the distributor Acorn Media and would make a wonderful gift for the theatre lover in your family or perhaps as a means to convince others of how wonderful the theatre can truly be. "We are all, but merely players" in the end after-all.

January 11, 2008

Graphic Novel Review: Attitude Featuring: Stephanie McMillan's Minimum Security

In the days known as P.D. (Pre Doonsbury) political cartoons with human characters were limited to the editorial page and one large square. The only political comic strip in P.D. critical of the status quo that made it into the daily papers was Walt Kelly's Pogo. Periodically it would feature a character based on first President Lyndon Johnson and in latter Richard Nixon. I seem to remember Johnson was a Basset Hound and Nixon a Hyena, both remarkably astute pieces of caricature when it came to the two men in question.

In Canada there were two of what were known as editorial political cartoonists that were head and shoulders above the pack, Aislin, the pen name for Terry Mosher and Duncan Macpherson. I think the fact that I can still remember both of them, and specific pieces of their art from thirty odd years ago speaks volumes as to their style and abilities. Both men considered it open season on politicians of all parties and leanings, and you would have been hard pressed guessing any political allegiances on the part of either man.

In those days the best you could hope for in terms of the mainstream media when it came to political cartoons was that they weren't flag wavers who demonized supposed enemies by depicting them as racial stereotypes. Duncan Macpherson was probably one of the few cartoonists who would draw an Asian face without making it a mask of evil during the height of the Vietnam war.

It wasn't until Garry Trudeau's Doonsbury that a daily comic strip in the mainstream dared to politically agitate against the powers that be. During the Watergate era of Richard Nixon his strip was actually pulled from newspapers across the United States because the content was periodically considered too volatile and he's probably one of the few cartoonists to ever have motions of censor put forward against him in the Senate.
Stephanie McMillan.jpg
Thirty plus years later there still aren't many political cartoons to be found on the comic pages of the mainstream press aside from Gary's strip. However, in first the alternative press, and now the Internet, political cartoons of all stripes have sprouted that make Trudeau's strip look tame in comparison. Unfortunately a good many of them, no matter what their politics, really aren't worth the paper or the bandwidth required to produce them.

Thankfully there are people like Stephanie McMillan and her comic Minimum Security that more than compensate for the failings of others. While she makes no secret of her politics and her opinions she takes the time and effort to research her information and creates cartoons that are witty, intelligent, and iconoclastic. In an era when so much of popular culture is designed to perpetuate the status quo Stephanie bravely uses her comic strip to point out that not only doesn't the Emperor have any clothes on, but that the Empire is without substance behind its pretty facade.

She tackles all the expected issues, Iraq, Homeland Security, Global Warming, and Human Rights. However unlike so many others who are apt to say this is bad, and leave it at that, Stephanie goes the step further and not only explains why, but proves it as well. Open the collection of her work, Attitude Featuring: Stephanie McMillan -Minimum Security published by N.B.M. Publishing, to almost any page and you'll see what I mean.

While the boy wonder, George Bush Jr., is called to account by her cartoons for a good many of the problems facing America (and the world) Ms. McMillan is not naive enough to believe that one figure head is the root cause. In some ways Bush is only a symptom of the system that's been nurtured and developed for two hundred and thirty one years. American foreign policy in North and South America has always been predicated on the needs of corporate America, and today's circumstances are merely a continuation of that policy on a world wide basis.

From the days of the United Fruit company's sole proprietorship of the economies of Cuba, Central America, and South America to today's rapacious demands of the petroleum industry, America's military has always been there to open new markets and defend business' right to exploit foreign nationals. Of course it's all justified in the name of democracy, although how installing military dictators like August Pinochet to overthrow an elected government counts as protecting democracy I've never understood.
Minimum Security Excerpt.jpg
Stephanie knows this and depicts Bush as being a tool of the industrial complex and his policies as having less to do with preserving America than preserving the privileges of his class and protecting the interests of corporate America. She doesn't just make wild accusations without supplying proof either. In various cartoons and strips she quotes facts and figures substantiating everything from the drop in real income across America, the widening gap between the rich and the poor, and the ever increasing profits enjoyed by multinational businesses.

But you know what's best about Stephanie McMillan's Minimum Security? It's funny, well at least I found it funny, but for those of you like me who have grown tired of painfully earnest progressive people (and boy do I mean painful) she's a breath of fresh air. Where else are you going to find Bunnista, the revolutionary bunny rabbit who lost an eye to animal testing and has now dedicated himself to "the overthrow of the capitalist/imperialist system by the international Proletariat and revolutionizing all of society based on need rather than profit".

Of course Bunnista has to deal with Bananabelle Skylark who claims there's no need to change the outer world if we but only learn to live in the moment. Social problems are merely a reflection of our inner selves and the world is actually perfect, it's our consciousness that determines our reality. Thankfully, there's also Kranti. She still tries to hand out free plants on earth day to her neighbours, but is aware enough to know that we need to change the way we live if we have a hope of surviving.

The interaction between the three and the world around them lifts the strip out of the polemic and puts it firmly in the land of comics. They allow her to poke gentle fun at the left and some of the didactic that's spouted by people more in love with slogans than actual problem solving. But unlike so many others Kranti and her friends know that things aren't as rosy as Fox Television would like us to believe, and they're doing their best to figure out what to do about it.

Attitude Featuring: Stephanie McMillan Minimum Security is a collection of Ms. McMillan's work from early one panel editorials to some of her more recent cartoon strips. They are funny, wise, not a little bit sad, but most of all, intelligent. Voices of dissent are few and far between these days in the mass media, so to find one as smart and humorous as Stephanie McMillan's Minimum Security is nothing short of miraculous.

Music Review: Sabertooth Dr. Midnight Live At The Green Mill

What is it about Jazz music that associates it with late nights? Oh sure there is Jazz that's played in the afternoons, but it sometimes feels as much like Jazz as Pat Boon is Rock and Roll. It's polite and well mannered music that you can bring home to meet your mother and she won't throw it out into the street. No, there's just something about the music that calls for the atmosphere that is generated in a big city long after daylight has vanished.

Speakeasies, after-hours bars, and other late night venues just feel like they are made for Jazz. Perhaps it's the seductive sound of the saxophones, the soft hissing of a snare being brushed, or the gentle thrumming of the stand up bass that makes the music feel like it needs the soft velvet of darkness for it to thrive. There is something almost magical about the way the elements of a Jazz tune come together that makes it feel so ethereal that daylight would burn it away.

There is also something about music being performed in the wee hours of the morning that gives it an extra spark of excitement. Perhaps it's some sort of connection to our genetic memory of a time when we performed rituals in the deepest part of the night to aid in our communications with the spirit world. All I know is that one of the most memorable memories I have of Jazz was listening to about a dozen saxophones playing in a fourth floor studio at three in the morning in downtown Toronto.

For the past fifteen years the Chicago Jazz band Sabertooth has been playing a Sunday morning gig that starts at midnight and winds down at five in the morning at the venerable Green Mill Tavern. (The Green Mill first opened its doors in 1907) It says a lot about their quality as a band, and the enthusiasm of Chicago's Jazz fans, that there is an audience for this show week in and week out. However, I bet that a fair number of the audience members are as attracted by the event as much as they are the music. It's still a pretty unique experience to listen to Jazz until the sun comes up the next morning.
Sabertooth.jpg
For those of us who can't get to Chicago on a regular, or even an infrequent basis, to catch Sabertooth live at the Green Mill, the good folk at Delmark Records have released Dr. Midnight, Live At The Green Mill. The seven tracks on the CD were all recorded live on June 23rd 2007 during the quartet's regular Sunday morning gig.

It's obvious that these guys are aware they are doing something just a little bit different with this gig. On the introduction to the title track, "Dr. Midnight", Cameron Pfiffner, makes mention of of the time of day's special qualities. He talks about the sounds that you can hear during these hours and wonders if they are messages from people on the other side. That's where Dr. Midnight comes in, as he's someone who can interpret what these sounds mean.

Pfiffner is joined as lead in the quartet by fellow tenor saxophone player Pat Mallinger. Aside from each playing tenor, Pfiffner also plays soprano saxophone, concert flute, and piccolo while Mallinger plays alto sax, and Native American flute. Rounding out the quartet are Pete Benson on the Hammond B3 organ and Ted Sirota on drums. It's not what most people would expect as a standard quartet line up, but these guys aren't exactly what you'd call, if there could even be such a thing, your standard Jazz quartet.

They play everything from original bebop tunes, "It's surely Gonna Flop If It Ain't Go That Bop", adaptations of movie soundtracks, the theme from the movie the Odd Couple, to a cut by the Grateful Dead, "China Cat Sunflower"; not songs that your apt to find sharing most band's set lists for a concert. Of course what those songs have in common is that they all allow plenty of room to manoeuvre, so there is a lot of extrapolating on themes and playing around with tunes by the two leads.

With the two front men taking on most of the improvisational duties Sirota and Benson are responsible for holding the framework together. Not only does Benson handle that with his keyboard, but also with the bass pedals on the Hammond. In many ways he's doing the equivalent of playing both the guitar and bass parts for the band. On the opening track, "Blues For C. Piff", a twelve minute plus hot and heavy bluesy number written by Mallinger for Pfiffner, you can feel Benson's presence running through the tune like an electric current.

As usual for a Delmark live recording the sound is impeccable, and not only have they recorded the band wonderfully, but they have allowed enough of the crowd noise to leak through to ensure that you feel like you're at the gig. A great example of how effective a job they have done with this is the song Tetemetearri. Up until that point the crowd has been boisterously responding to the rambunctious nature of the music, but at the first note of the Native American flute that Pat Mallinger opens the song with, you can hear a pin drop.

Because the sounds of the crowd have been such a constant throughout the disc until this point, having it drop it off to completely in reaction to what's happening on the stage, increases our attention to what's happening on stage. While the song would have been captivating enough on its own, this serves to accent its distinctive quality and pull us into the track deeper then we might have gone normally. I don't think I've ever experienced a live recording where I've become as directly involved in the music as I did on this disc.

When it comes right down to it Sabertooth's Dr. Midnight Live At The Green Mill is an exhilarating Jazz party. Everybody, including the band are having such a good time that it's impossible not to get caught up in the excitement of the moment. There's nothing quite like listening to live Jazz until the sun comes up, and if you can't be there in person this disc is the next best thing.

January 09, 2008

Music Review: Hello, Blue Roses The Portrait Is Finished And I Have Failed To Capture Your Beauty

Why does popular music have to make itself so complicated these days? Why can't the agents, the promoters, and the rest of them just let the music speak for itself? The tendency towards making intellectual sounding claims about a pop song or group's antecedents is not only ridiculous, it sets up expectations that no pop song can ever live up to.

There's also the fact that the whole genre thing seems to have just gone completely out of control. Can anybody tell me the difference between, rock and roll, roots rock, country rock, rock, hard rock, alt-rock, classic rock, and golden oldies? Obviously there are differences between rock and roll and soul music, or rhythm and blues, but every-time I've been forced to listen to the radio recently everything has sounded the same, with the occasional slow wailing ballad thrown in to show their sensitivity.

So when I read Dan Bejar, one half of the new duo Hello, Blue Roses, describe the music on his and Sydney Vermont's new disc as being "completely untethered to any of the bullshit streams coursing through the scene right now", I was of two minds. First, because I've heard his music before and respect it, I'm hopeful about the prospect of hearing good solid pop music, but I have to admit to a little nervousness at the vagueness of that statement. It could mean absolutely anything.
Dan Bejar & Sydney Vermont.jpg
Thankfully after listening to The Portrait Is Finished And I Have Failed To Capture Your Beauty, Hello, Blue Roses' debut CD on the Locust Music label, it turns out that he's referring to returning to a less complicated approach to pop music. What, after all, should be less complicated than a collection of pop songs written and performed by a duo?

They have focused on creating songs with lyrics and music that work together regardless of genre classifications or what may or may not sell. They approach each song individually and ensure that the arrangement fulfills the needs of the lyric and the overall impression they want the piece to create. The result is thirteen original tracks, and one cover ("Kevin Ayer's "Hymn"), that are reflections of their musical tastes and nothing else.

The most prominent feature of this recording is without a doubt Sydney Vermont's voice. She has a strong and clear soprano that she is not afraid to let shine. Right from the start you know that it will be playing an important part in the proceedings, as the opening song "Hello Blue Roses" starts with her in full voice. It was a bit disconcerting to hear a high, clear soprano at top volume coming through headphones with no musical build-up, but there's no doubt that it gets your attention.

Unlike so many female pop vocalists who have high voices, Sydney has the breath control and vocal ability to create a full bodied sound. There's nothing of the baby voice squeak, or false sentiment breathlessness about her as she uses volume, texture, and phrasing to create modulations in meaning and expression. It's a pleasure to hear a soprano voice that sounds like it belongs to a woman, not some pseudo ethereal creature that could sprout wings at any second and leave the atmosphere.

While Dan Bejar's voice is nowhere near the spectacular instrument that Sydney's is, it has a distinct enough quality that it's not overwhelmed. In the fact the difference in tone between the two voices makes the times Dan sings enough of a diversion, Sydney's soprano never begins to feel like too much. That's not meant to be a judgement on her voice, but any sound repeated for extended periods can end up becoming overwhelming.

Dan and Sydney also make it clear that they're not afraid of doing things that at first breath might sound odd and even discordant. Heavy fuzz guitar played under a clear soprano may sound strange, but in the context of their songs works perfectly. What I liked is that it removed any chance of Sydney's voice sounding precious or "pretty", and kept songs like "Hello Blue Roses" from becoming clichéd.

Lyrically the songs are more than a few steps above average intellectually without ever once sounding forced or pretentious. These are genuinely intelligent songs written by someone who is not afraid of sounding smart, and real enough for them not to be artificial. In fact there are moments on the disc of near poetic imagery which is a definite rarity today. "Heron Song" stands out in particular for me as the words evoked standing solitary figures against a background washed with grey water colours.

I'm sure comparisons will be made between Sydney Vermont's voice and other sopranos who have sung popular music but she has her own style and I think it would be an injustice to do so. She and Dan Bejar have done their best to create a CD of pop songs that reflects their musical interests and thoughts on life without becoming heavy handed or over the top. Instead they show a firm grasp of what can be done within the framework of popular music, and a great admiration for the form.

If you want to hear some really well performed popular music with no pretensions, then look no further than Hello, Blue Roses' first release The Portrait Is Finished But I Have Failed To Capture Your Beauty and you won't be disappointed.

Music DVD Review: Buckethead Young Buckethead 1 & 2

Have you ever noticed how the arts seems to be a magnet for the eccentric and odd? Perhaps no other field, except the applied sciences, has such a disproportionate representation of people who walk to the beat of a drummer that other people just don't hear. Of course it's debatable as to which caused which - do you have to be a bit odd in the first place to be an artist or a scientist, or is it something about them that turns people a little strange.

Whatever the reason there can be no denying that the arts have had their share of unique individuals. Usually the more flamboyant have been among those who are the performers, although that's not a hard and fast rule as there have been any number of outrageous poets and painters. A lot has been said about insecurity causing people to create a "mask" in order to hide their true selves from the audience when they go on stage.

Actors do that as a matter of course every time they go on stage as that is their job, but musicians aren't under the same the obligation to provide their audiences with that kind of performance. While some musical performers will create a persona that gives them the strength to stand in front of an audience and bare their soul, the majority of them won't go the full distance and create a completely different character. Most people who go see bands play don't expect the band to do anything other than play music.

So when the lead guitar player comes onto stage wearing a mask and a Kentucky Fried Chicken bucket on his head he tends to stand out from the rest of the band, and other guitar players in general. Buckethead is easily one of the most instantly recognizable guitar players out there right now because that's exactly how he appears on stage. But the bucket and the mask are far more than just a means of disguise, they are the physical trappings of a person with a history and a life beyond the stage.
Buckethead.jpg
Now I've begun to hear rumours that some guy name Brian Carol - or something like that - has begun claiming that he is actually Buckethead, but one needs only go to Bucketheadland to find the true history of the guitar hero. There you can read the heartrending tale of his orphanage and being raised by friendly chickens and the coop that he called home.

You can also read about his quest to find musical fulfillment by playing with bands like Guns & Roses, Primus, and his projects with Viggo Mortensen. But it was only recently, with the release of Enter The Chicken that he released a recording made up entirely of his own compositions. However his early days in music have been shrouded in some mystery. Where did he hone his musical skills? Is there some Svengalli lurking in the background who discovered the brave young man and guided him through his transition from coop to stage. Well the answers are now available on two DVDs of previously unreleased home movies made by and about Buckethead. Originally shot on Super 8 film but now digitally re mastered Young Buckethead 1& 2 provide valuable information that give us insight into the creative process that has allowed Buckethead to develop into what he has become today.

Jas Obrect was an editor for Guitar Player magazine in 1988 when a sixteen year old Buckethead dropped off a demo tape for him to listen. To say he was blown away was putting it mildly and he pushed Buckethead to continue to work on his guitar playing. In 1990 Buckethead asked Jas if he would film his band the Deli Creeps during a couple of their forth coming gigs. It's those films that provided the footage of the Deli Creeps in concert on Young Buckethead 1 & 2 and although neither the sound or video quality aren't the greatest because of the original media, but are good enough to give a really good impression of what the Deli Creeps were all about.

The first thing you realize watching them is they were as much performance art as they were a rock and roll band. The action started even before they took to the stage with Buckethead, wearing an airplane's emergency oxygen mask, being led through the audience on the end of a string by the lead singer. Once he was safely on stage Buckethead was released and set to doing what he does best; playing guitar. It was everything you'd expect from Buckethead today - effortless playing with fingers so impossibly large they look like they are creatures that exist in their own right.
buckethead 2.jpg
The music itself is loud and discordant, but at the same time there is a purpose to the madness of the Deli Creeps. The manner of their appearance - dressed in clothes that could be worn by deranged clerks at a Delicatessen where you wouldn't really trust the provenance of any of the meat; it might taste like chicken but who knows how many legs it may have had to begin with. It's not a political agenda, as in anti meat etc, rather it felt like wandering into some deranged version of our own world, or maybe a deli run by the boys from Texas Chainsaw Massacre, which I guess amounts to the same thing.

Jas Obrecht describes in his liner notes some of Buckethead's creative process which included continuous playing of Texas Chainsaw Massacre while working out various techniques on guitar. He's a reliable source of information as far as this goes because Buckethead had moved into his basement in 1991. It was during this time that the impromptu elements of the DVD were filmed. These include a really wonderful intimate concert he gave for his brothers and sisters at a backyard get together, an interview with Buckethead in a park, and a seriously deranged monologue performed by Jas while wearing a milk carton over his head and Buckethead providing suitably strange atmospheric keyboard music.

Obviously there are problems with both the sound and the video on these tapes; Super 8 was not a great media for recording anything, let alone music. But all things considered this is still a valuable record of the early days of Buckethead's career. Not only does it give a great opportunity to hear him beginning to define his style of guitar playing, it also gives us an indication of his interest in creating the atmospheric music that he has since made to underscore Viggo Mortensen's poetry on CDs produced by Perceval Press

Young Buckethead 1 & 2 are a must have for fans of Buckethead and fans of the absurd in general. Not only does it provide some great opportunities to see Buckethead perform solo, we are privy to some of his early experimentation with conceptual performance with his first band The Deli Creeps. On these two discs we are given the rare opportunity to watch a myth being created before our eyes.

Once there was a young man raised by chickens in a rundown coop from the bad side of the field who dreamed of bringing his music to the people of America. Buckethead is now regarded as one of the most innovative and exciting guitar players in the world. With a dream in his heart, a mask on his face, and an empty chicken bucket on his head, Buckethead is a living embodiment of the American Dream come true.

Watch Young Buckethead 1 & 2 to see the emergence of a star, and you will end up having your belief in dreams and the American way restored - or not. Either way this is brilliant stuff that shouldn't be missed for anything.

January 08, 2008

DVD Review: Beowulf & Grendel

At one time the word hero was simply a designation given to anybody born from the union of mortal and God. But that was in simpler times when the Gods would routinely roam the earth, ravishing comely mortal maids, and scattering progeny everywhere. With the coming of monotheism, that just wouldn't do - God singular couldn't be seen getting it off the local tavern keeper's daughter and begetting heroes all over the place. So instead of actually being the child of a God, a hero became a mortal who was able to perform tasks that required abilities beyond what is considered normal for humans.

Ever since we've been inundated with tales of heroic deeds by men and women of valour, honour, and good breeding. It wasn't until the nineteenth century that anybody dared write a story with a person of lower status as the hero, and even then The Barber Of Seville was greeted with near riots when it was first performed, as the concept was considered so outrageous. Today of course it's quite acceptable for anybody to be a hero and while in terms of literature that's a good thing, when it comes to the reality of it's application the word has been diminished through overuse and abuse.

From sports "heroes" to supposed icons of society it's become a convenient appellant to use for propaganda and marketing. While fire fighters and other folk do things on a daily basis that most of us would blanch at, they are only recognized when politicians are looking to score points or whip up sentimental support for their policies. Most of the time we still associate heroism with the ability to kill people as shown by how many decorations and medals are reserved for those who are in the military.
GerardButler.jpg
Martial mien as a standard for heroic behaviour is as old as humanity, and our earliest tales and epics all deal with the exploits of men at war, or quests that bring them into conflict. In fact the oldest tale written down in the English language, Beowulf is about a warrior hero and his deeds on the battlefield. Perhaps because it was the first, and all tales in English since owe it a debt of gratitude, it has managed to hold on to our imaginations where others have failed.

In November of 2007 a major Hollywood production of Beowulf, with star power on and off the screen to propel its fortunes, was released in the hopes of cashing in on that continued fascination. However it's not the first film in recent years to bring the thousand year old story to the screen. In 2005 Beowulf & Grendel a Canadian, Icelandic, and British co-production directed by Canadian Sturla Gunnarsson from a script by Andrew Rai Berzins, and starring Gerard Butler, Sarah Polley, and Ingvar Sigurdsson, was released across Canada after a successful tour of the Film Festival circuit, but pretty much slid under most people's radar. The first I heard about it was when my wife brought home the DVD the other night in the hopes that it would be worth watching.

I haven't seen the recently released version, or heard anything about it, but after watching Beowulf & Grendel, I feel it's going to be hard pressed to match the job done by this production. The acting, the script, and the visual spectacle of shooting on location in Iceland have combined to create one of the most complete cinematic experiences I have experienced since Peter Jackson's Lord Of The Rings. What makes this even more impressive is fact there wasn't a blue screen or CGI used - everything was shot on location and special effects were makeup, prosthetics, and pre-computer generated technology.

The movie opens on the happy scene of a father and sun playing together, only as the camera closes in on them do we realize that they are different. The father is oversized and slightly misshapen and the child has wisps of hair dangling from his chin, while his arms are covered in a fine down. The scene abruptly cuts to a shot of armoured men on horseback with torches at full gallop, and then back to the father and son. This our first introduction to Grendel, his father and the Danes. The father and son try to flee, but all Grendel's father is able to do is place his son out of harm's way before he turns to meet his death.

Leaping forward in time a now adult Grendel (Ingvar Sigurdsson) comes to take his revenge upon those who murdered his father. The Danes and their king (played magnificently by Stellan Skarsgard) have just celebrated the construction of their first mead hall - and during the night Grendel breaks in and slays the men who stayed to sleep off their drink. The attacks continue and word spreads of the troubles until it reaches the ears of King's old friend Beowulf (Gerard Butler). Vowing to take vengeance upon the villain Beowulf sets off with a troop of soldiers to rid the Danes of their peril.
Sarah Polley.jpg
But Grendel refuses to play by the rules, and won't attack Beowulf and his men. While it could mean he is afraid of the company, Beowulf begins to suspect there's more to Grendel's unwillingness to fight than lack of courage. A meeting with the outcast witch Selma (Sarah Polley) only confuses him more, and plants seeds of doubt in him mind about the validity of his cause. Why has Grendel only attacked soldiers and never any of the women, children or older men of the settlement? If he is the monster that he's supposed to be wouldn't he be killing randomly?

When it finally becomes clear Grendel is only attacking those who have given him reason too - the Danes killed his father because he had stolen a fish, and because he was different - it's too late to stop what's begun and the story continues to its traditional conclusion. But instead of having Beowulf wrecking wrathful vengeance in the heroic mould, he is reluctantly forced to kill both Grendel and his mother.
IngvarSigurdsson.jpg
Gerard Butler is wonderful in the role of Beowulf, for not only does he make a convincing hero, charismatic, charming, and fierce in battle, he does a great job of showing the turmoil that plagues his character as the film proceeds. What's really remarkable about his performance is that he doesn't let it the character go to far the other way and all of a sudden make him an apologist for the warriors. That's what he is and he's not ashamed of being one, and he has no problems with using violence to solve problems.

As Grendel, Ingvar Sigurdsson has the unenviable task of trying to communicate without the use of a language that anyone else in in the movie can understand. In spite of that difficulty he manages to create a character who is more than just a monster. At the same time he doesn't turn him into some misunderstood gentle giant. He is a fierce and primal creature who operates on an instinctive level, but the fact remains that his attacks are motivated by exactly the same thing that motivates Beowulf and the Danes.

In the important roles of the King and Selma the outcast witch, Stellan Skarsgard and Sarah Polley respectively do difficult jobs well. Stellan in particular does a wonderful job showing the disintegration of a proud man who knows that he is too blame for the attacks upon his people. Sarah Polley is compelling as the one voice who dares to speak the truth and in defence of Grendel. She could easily have played the character as angry all the time; she has great reason for bitterness having been outcast and abused by her fellow Danes. Instead she makes the character real and with a sense of humour and emotional depth.

The DVD of Beowulf & Grendel actually has special features that are worth watching. First of all there are excerpts from a documentary that was made about the shooting of the movie by one of the cast members called The Wrath Of Gods. The title refers to the horrendous difficulties that beset the production shooting on location in Iceland due to the severity of weather conditions. Winds up to 160 km. per hour, rain blowing sideways across the set, and even a volcano erupting near to their location were just some of the highlights.

Cast and crew all talk frankly about their experiences working under those conditions, but never once sound like they are complaining. The Icelandic actors were of course prepared for those conditions and Sarah Polley had shot a previous movie on location there, but for some like Gerald Butler it was a brand new experience. They all agreed that without the weather conditions the movie wouldn't have been the success that it is.

Beowulf & Grendel on DVD is a great movie retelling of the iconic hero tale of Anglo Saxon literature, told with enough of an iconoclastic twist to call into question our definition of "the hero". Most of all though, it is a reminder that you can still create a magnificent cinematic experience without CGI or a blue screen in sight. Reality is still a lot more powerful than anything you can churn out in a studio or on a computer screen.

January 06, 2008

Music DVD Review: Little Arthur Duncan Little Arthur Duncan Live At Rosa's Blues Lounge

When somebody talks about an independent record company the tendency is to think of a bunch of wild eyed young guys producing "indie rock" and other fringe type music. Their rosters seem to be bands that are at a certain point in their career stylistically, or who are looking for their initial exposure. Of course there are also independent labels which specialize in specific types of music, experimental electronic and other forms of contemporary composition, that mainstream companies don't consider cost efficient.

But there was a time when all of them were independent record company, because there weren't the multi national corporations of today that have a stranglehold on the music industry. Back in 1953 when Robert Koester founded Delmark Records in Chicago his was just one of many labels that was producing Blues and Jazz records in that musical hotbed. The ensuing fifty-five years has seen most of his former competitors fall by the wayside as the industry and tastes in popular music changed.

Delmark rode out the hard times of the sixties and seventies when Blues and Jazz sales plummeted as first Rock and Roll, then Disco and other watered down versions of the music, dominated sales of popular music. Operating in Chicago, for Chicago musicians, and the Chicago audience probably helped them make it when others went under. There aren't many towns where you can go to the bar and see your favourite local act playing, and buy their locally made album the next day at a locally owned and operated store.
Little Arthur Duncan.jpg
Their slogan maybe "Where The Music Lives", but it could be easily amended to read "Where The Music Of Chicago Lives" and you wouldn't be far off the mark. From their new series of re-mastered piano rolls featuring Chicago talent of the 1920's to DVDs and CDs of live shows by local Jazz and Blues artists recorded in clubs and venues around the city today, Delmark continues to feature the best of the "City with big shoulders" ().

The latest example is the irrepressible Little Arthur Duncan and his band caught live on CD and DVD in Little Arthur Duncan: Live At Rosa's Blues Lounge. Recorded in the intimate surroundings of Rosa's Blues Lounge on August 18th this past summer, the music not only lives, it comes alive in a way a show recorded at a bigger venue could never emulate. With five or six camera's running at all times and immaculate sound quality, the only thing missing is the smell of the beer that the guy at the table next to you is drinking.

Little Arthur Duncan has probably passed under a lot of people's radar because he wasn't performing for a good number of years except in his own club. He had started his career in of all places Key West, but that's where he hooked up with Earl Hooker so he wasn't the only guy who went South first before heading North. They showed up in Chicago in 1954 and Little Arthur hooked up with Little Walter who became his first mentor and teacher.

Even though he held on to his day job, it's a lot harder for a vocalist/harmonica player to make a living than a guitar player, he soon became a regular in the clubs. When the scene started drying up in the late sixties, his playing time was reduced, although he never stopped, sitting in periodically with Buddy Guy, Earl Hooker, and others. It was in the early 1980's that he began running his own club where he'd book in all Blues acts. He could usually be counted on to climb on stage with whoever was playing that night, but he concentrated on keeping the scene going rather than being part of it.

When he was forced to close Backscratcher's Lounge he began playing full time again, and he's quickly garnered a reputation as being one of the acts to check out in Chicago. Watching him play, sing, and just generally perform on the DVD Live At Rosa's Lounge you understand why right from the first note of his harmonica. This guy is an emotional dynamo; he throws himself heart and soul into every single song he plays and you know he's not holding anything back.

I've always loved the old Blues musicians with their chairs on stage. After one or two songs they always apologize for having to sit down because "they're feelin' their age", but half way through any number they've begun seated, their up bouncing around again. Little Arthur is no exception; the music seems to act like an electric current in him. Coursing through his veins and pulling him to his feet time after time, putting out way more energy on stage than musicians half his age.
Little Arthur Duncan 1.jpg
The music is the classic electric Chicago Blues sound, and listening to Little Arthur playing you realize how few people are still playing that music. It's a high energy, hard driving, and dynamic sound that isn't like anything else you'll ever hear. The drum and the bass lay down something solid that makes your spine twitch and your shoulders itch, the two guitars build the melody on top of that and the vocalist/harp player rides it all like a ship running before a steady wind over the rolling ocean.

Little Arthur and his band make it look easy. Twist Turner on drums and Michael Azzi on bass just keep on rolling like they'll never stop - talk about a perfect example of sustainable energy. Then there is the guitar work of Rick Kreher, formally of the Muddy Waters band, and Illinois Slim. Standing calmly on either side of Little Arthur they carry on the most amazing guitar conversation I've heard in ages. Both of them seem to have that rare ability to be playing lead and rhythm guitar at the same time and make their presence felt without flamboyant posturing or striking poses.

The focal point is of course Little Arthur; pigeon chested (probably from blowing harp and singing for so many years), he curls his body in around his harmonica and microphone and blows classic harp sounds redolent of all the emotional turmoil you've ever associated with the Blues. When he sings, he cocks his head back and fixes his bright, mischievous, shining eyes, on the audience. Seemingly throwing all caution to the winds, he sings with apparent abandon, but he's completely synchronized with the band and sounds like a natural extension of the music.

With Little Arthur Duncan: Live At Rosa's Blues Lounge Delmark records continues to cement their reputation for being able to provide superlative, intimate, live recordings whether on DVD or CD. While the DVD contains a couple of extra tracks, and a commentary by Little Arthur, the CD allows you to listen to the same sound when you don't have a DVD player handy. While the video quality isn't the greatest - it's all been done with hand held equipment you and I could pick up in a store - the overall impact of their recordings is so powerful that it doesn't matter.

Most labels these days give you some overproduced staged "Music Video" of their acts. Delmark goes down the street and catches them live on stage playing in clubs where the walls echo with the sounds of the thousands of Blues musicians who have played them over the years. You can't recreate atmosphere like that no matter how expensive your equipment. Using hand held camera's, and some editing magic, and five or six camera's shooting at once makes you feel like you're part of the crowd in the bar on that night.

Little Arthur Duncan and his band play are keeping the sound of Chicago Blues alive, and Delmark Records brings it live to your house. It really doesn't get much better than that.

January 05, 2008

Book Review: How The Dead Dream Lydia Millet

Take a deep breath, now exhale. In the time it took you to do that it's more than likely that a life form became extinct somewhere on the planet. Plant, insect, or animal: life is dying around us on a breath by breath basis and we are oblivious to the fact. What does it matter if a sub-species of plant dies never to come back again? I could give you the whole "universe is like a spider web" argument about all life being interconnected and plucking one string on the spider web causes ripples to permeate across the whole, but to most people that still means nothing.

Why? Because human beings are as a rule selfish and we see everything in terms of ourselves. That's normal of course, all animals make themselves the centre of their universe, in the wild it's a matter of survival. What around me is food, shelter, water, or dangerous - how do things affect me and what do I need to do in response isn't even a thought process, it's instinctual and learned behaviour. The difference between humans and other life forms is our putting ourselves at the centre of the web has nothing to do with survival, and everything to do with personal gain of some sort.

Everything from our interpersonal relationships to the decisions we make regarding what clothes to wear are dictated by what gain we will receive from our actions. Will that person fall in love with me if I do this? By wearing these clothes will I create the impression needed in order for another person to trust me? Even the act of me writing out these words is being done for selfish reasons - I want you to react, or at least pay attention to what I've written.
lydia millet.jpg
In her latest book, How The Dead Dream published by Counterpoint Press and distributed by Publishers Group Canada, Lydia Millet explores the nature of human selfishness through her central character, a man simply known as T. We follow T. from childhood on, and it becomes quickly obvious that there is something pathological about his obsession with money.

He literally "squirrels" away his money as a child, carrying coins around in his cheeks for safe keeping, while stashing bills under his mattress. When his mother dared to remove the money and leave it out on a shelf, he was offended at how unfeeling she was towards it, leaving it exposed and vulnerable to who knows what deprivations. Nothing his parents tell him offers any reassurance that his money will be safe out in the open, and only the guarantee that banks are insured against robbery, along with coerced seed money from his parents, convinces him to open a bank account.

Based on the his rather broad definition of ethics when it came to his means of raising money as a child, (soliciting sponsorships for non-existent charity events on the premise that he is providing his neighbours the opportunity to feel good about themselves) it should come as little surprise that he gets into the business of real estate sales and development upon leaving University. Utilizing the contacts he established through his former fraternity he is quickly upon a fast track towards financial success.
Initially everything T. does has the feeling of being carefully evaluated in terms of expenditure and return. From taking his mother to Mass when she comes to visit him at University to the way he conducts himself with his fraternity brothers. Everything about him, and everything he does is calculated. He is always there for his fraternity brothers, which is everything from talking them down from potential suicide to convincing girls not to press date rape charges, ensuring their gratitude; even if they have no reason to like him, they depend on him.

Everything is working to plan for him until a series of seemingly unconnected events occur that will change the course of his life and eventually how he sees himself in relationship to the rest of the world's inhabitants. I know, it seems like every other book you read has somebody's eyes being opened to their "sins" and after their "epiphany" change their lives around and become a saint.

Thankfully Lydia Millet has a firmer grip on reality than that, and T. remains basically the same person. The only difference is that he starts to see there are more pieces at play in the world than what is necessarily in front of his eyes. When a housing project he develops displaces and causes the extinction of a breed of Kangaroo Rat, he begins to obsess about endangered species. He recognizes that humans have the potential to eventually destroy all life on the planet and he is afraid.

Someone told him that beneath each ant hill resides tens, if not hundreds of thousands of ants. He imagines that under the earth's surface they have excavated huge caverns, and has nightmares of them all of a sudden vanishing and the earth crumbling and his housing developments vanishing. In a desperate search for answers, and he's not even sure of the questions, he takes it into his head that he will understand things better if he breaks into the cages of endangered animals in the zoos.

How The Dead Dream is a satirical examination of values in the modern world and the selfishness of human beings. While T. is the embodiment of those characteristics, and on occasion borders on caricature, Millet always brings him back from the edge just enough for him to be believable. She has divided his life into three very distinct worlds, personal, business, and the wild, or animal world, and he ends up not being at home in any of them.

The people he does business with are buffoons who he has nothing in common with and only uses for their money. He is at a loss as to what to do about his mother as she descends into senility. He hotly denies her accusations of him being "her son the thief", perhaps forgetting his behaviour as a child, that she could well be referring to, and leaves her in the care of a full-time nurse.

As for the natural world, he's about at home in it's reality as a tiger is in a city. He doesn't understand the animals in the zoo cages anymore than he does the people in his life. He comes face to face with how helpless he really is during a trip to a resort he's developing that happens to be in hurricane country.

How The Dead Dream is an indictment of the shallowness that dominates most people's thinking, and how narrow dreams have become. If we are dead to anything but money and what it can give us, what kind of dreams are we going to have? The answer isn't pretty, but unfortunately far too many of them are coming true. The dead don't care about the living, and evidence of that can be seen each time you breathe in and out and another species dies.

January 04, 2008

Book Review: Night Train To Lisbon Pascal Mercier

For most people a great deal of life is spent following the same routine. For some, there is a certain amount of safety and comfort that can be derived from the security of knowing exactly what you will be doing when, while others feel seriously constrained and trapped for the same reasons. While those who fall into the latter category usually feel like they are missing out on something more exciting, the feeling that life is passing them by, those in the first instance can go years in complete contentment.

However, if at any point in their lives those same people ever experience an event that jars them from that routine, or causes them to have a moment of introspection beyond what they would normally exert during their day - the results can be severe. If you have completely sublimated all of the dreams and hopes that you once may have had, suddenly waking to that fact is a lot worse than being aware of it all along. What had previously been a comfort, suddenly becomes an unbearable burden that threatens to suffocate you.

In Pascal Mercier's Night Train To Lisbon, published for the first time in English by Grove Press and distributed in Canada by Publishers Group Canada, Raimund Gregorius has been teaching classical languages (Latin, Classical Greek, and Biblical Hebrew) at the same school in Berne Switzerland for decades. Day in and day out he has followed the same routine of teaching school, watching his students through the shield of his thick lensed glasses, and wearing his crumpled corduroy suits.
Pascal Mercier.jpg
But then a chance meeting with a Portuguese woman one rainy morning on the way to work has him start to worry at the edges of the veneer of his routine like its a dead patch of skin. His love of language has been limited previously to those that are as dead as his life has been staid and ordered. There is something about this woman though, that her voice - the way she pronounces the word for her mother tongue in her native language - makes Portuguese sound like water to a man wandering in a desert.

Looking for something, and not quite sure what, perhaps the woman who had mysteriously appeared and disappeared the day before, Gregorius finds himself in a Spanish bookstore. Attracted to a particular book by the way another person treated it with some reverence, he picks it up. It's in Portuguese, and not being able to read a word of it he has the bookseller translate the title, A Goldsmith Of Words, and translate the opening lines for him.

What he hears, sentences that describe how inadequate language can sometimes be for describing experiences and emotional turmoil, sounds to him like they had been written about how he'd been feeling since his chance encounter the day before. Language, that had always stood him in such good stead for so many years, has failed to decipher the unease or describe the emotions he'd been feeling. It can't even offer an explanation as to why, yesterday, he simply walked out of his classroom in the middle of the afternoon double period, leaving his books and brief case behind, and not been back since.

Thirty years ago he had turned down an opportunity to live in Iran and tutor the child of an industrialist, irrational fears of the desert heat blinding him had kept him in Berne teaching dead languages. Now he finally leaves Berne behind, with Lisbon as his destination, and a desire to find out about the author of this book. He knows part of what fuels his desire to make this trip into the unknown was his inability to make a similar trip in the past.

In Lisbon a series of chance meetings brings him into the circle of people who surrounded Doctor Amadeu de Prado. The picture that emerges is that of a child of privilege, a brilliant student in school, and a doctor who will not refuse serve anyone, and in fact treats many poorer clients for free. Prado, like Gregorius, has something happen that forces him to re-evaluate his life and position. Up until 1974 Portugal was ruled by the dictator Salazar, and near the end of his regime rule had actually passed into the hands of his secret police as Salazar descended into senility.

One day a man collapsed just outside Prado's offices, heart failure, and his companions rushed him into the office in the hopes that the doctor could keep him alive long enough for an ambulance to come and get him to a hospital. He was the head of Lisbon's secret police, a man notoriously responsible for the death and torture of thousands of people. Prado knew all of this, and he could have easily let him die, without any stigma being attached to him, but he claims he couldn't because of his loyalty to his medical calling.

It was this experience which caused him to pen the lines that had so appealed to Gregorius about language failing to properly encompass the feelings that people can have. On a more direct note the good doctor makes it his business to join the forces of the resistance against the dictator in order to try and assuage his guilt for having saved the life of one of the oppressors.

Night Train To Lisbon is a fascinating examination of the things that make us who we are and how fragile that construction really is. Are we really, it asks, only what we make ourselves, or are there external elements that must be considered? It's also about the need for passion in your life, or at the very least some sort of emotional commitment to what it is you do. Gregorius has spent decades teaching the classic languages, and has revelled in their lack of passion that their formal construction can impose on his lessons.

But what has been the result of that life so far? True he is a well respected scholar within the Berne community, but is that compensation for a marriage that fails after five years due to his being so bloodless and cold towards his ex-wives enthusiasm for art? Insomnia plagues him, and he is constantly beset with fears that he will go blind to the extent that he lets it dictate his activities. In what must be a deliberate irony, Gregorius teaches Latin, the father of the Romance languages while suppressing the romance in his own life.

There isn't even any room in his life for introspection until the moment he has his chance encounter with the Portuguese woman that rainy morning. That it takes a trip to the sunnier climate of Portugal, a direct contrast to the grey cold winter of Berne, for his life to thaw, and for him to discover what it is to have emotion in his life only is appropriate. When you think about it, what could be more romantic, then the intellectual son of a wealthy family taking up the fight against a dictator. The fact that the country just happens to be one where the native language is one of the Romance tongues is just icing on the cake.

That Doctor Prado happens to be a figure of mystery at the start of the Night Train To Lisbon gives him the aura of romance even before we and Gregorius start to learn about his life. That he turns out to have been idolized even by his teachers when he was younger only adds to this portrait. Even though we find out from his own writing that he too sublimated his real desires to suit the needs of his family and position, there still remained a fierceness to his beliefs conspicuously absent from Gregorius' life.

One thing that Mercier is very careful about in this book is to make sure we know there is nothing romantic about being in the resistance against a dictator. One of the people who Gregorius befriends was so badly tortured that his fingers are now not much more than useless appendages dangling form his hands. At their first meeting he calmly informs Gregorius that his tea cup can only be half filled. The reason for this become obvious when he removes his hands from the pockets they have lain hidden in, and they tremble continuously.

Night Train To Lisbon is the story of a journey of self-discovery, and an analysis of the ways is which people control their experiencing of life. I discovered that it took me a while to get involved with the story, but that once I entered into the rhythm of Mercier's writing style it was easy to be drawn into the events that unfolded. He wants the reader to take the time necessary to sift through and appreciate the thoughts that are being expressed by both Gregorious and Prado and you have to be willing to accept Mercier's conditions.

For those who want a good, intelligent read that's an excellent analysis of character and poses some fascinating questions about life and love, you won't go wrong with Night Train To Lisbon by Pascal Mercier.

January 02, 2008

DVD Review: The Thames Shakespeare Collection - Macbeth, King Lear, Twelfth Night, and Romeo And Juliet

Like many young actors, when I started I had dreams of performing some of the great roles of Shakespeare. One of the first things I did as a new actor was prepare three separate monologues, one comedy (Mercutio's "Queen Mab" speech from Romeo and Juliet), one history (the prologue from Henry V) and one high drama ("Now Is the Summer of our discontent... from Richard lll) in the hopes that one day I would be asked to audition for the Stratford Shakespearean Festival in Stratford, Ontario Canada.

However my liking for Shakespeare was not just because I was an actor, in some ways it was probably the spectacle of seeing his work, (and other classics) performed at the Stratford Festival during the 1970s that pulled me to the stage in the first place. It was I believe the Golden Age of the Stradford Festival; in the days before successive conservative governments gutted arts funding in Canada and forced the Festival to turn to Gilbert and Sullivan musicals to pay the rent, and some of the best actors in the English speaking world could be seen performing on a regular basis.

Perhaps that early exposure explains why I never feared the language, or found myself at a loss when reading the text in school like so many of my contemporaries. In fact my problem with Shakespeare is knowing what the language should sound like, and being continually disappointed by the inability of most productions to find actors who at least give the impression they know what they are saying. There's nothing worse in my opinion than an actor taking a deep breath and plowing through a speech as if it were one long sentence without any punctuation. So when the opportunity presented itself to view a package of four Shakespeare plays from the Thames Shakespeare Collection through the Arts And Entertainment network (A & E) I jumped at the opportunity.
Thames Shakespeare Collection.jpg
Thames Television of England during the 1970's was rivaled only by the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) for the quality of their productions, and had a reputation for mounting solid productions of Shakespeare's plays. The four plays in this set, Macbeth, King Lear, Twelfth Night, and Romeo And Juliet was an intriguing mixture as well. Aside from Hamlet, The Tempest, and perhaps Midsummer's Night Dream these are four of the most well known of Shakespeare's plays, with Macbeth and King Lear being considered especially difficult to stage.

While I have seen some classic performances of Lear in the past (Laurence Olivier's BBC production a couple of years before his death is still the benchmark against which I will always set others against) I had never seen a Macbeth that did justice to the script. That this production featured Ian McKellen as Macbeth and Judi Dench as Lady Macbeth, plus a supporting cast that included John Woodvine as Banquo and other members of England's Royal Shakespeare Company only served to whet my appetite, and did not disappoint.

Of the four performances included in this collection Macbeth is the only one to have international star power appearing on screen. In fact unless you were a regular watcher of British television in the 1970s and 1980s I doubt if outside of that production any of the actors are familiar faces for audience members in North America.

But, as Ian McKellen says in his introductory notes on the special features part of the Macbeth disc, British actors have a history and tradition of 400 years of performing Shakespeare to draw upon. In every single production, each actor, no matter what size his or her role, is at home with the Shakespearean text as if it were his or her everyday language. They appear as casual in their conversation with each other as you or I talking with a friend and all the while maintain the poetic nature of the verse by paying strict attention to the meter.
McKellen & Dench.jpg
An interesting point of comparison between the four productions is their staging. Both King Lear and Romeo and Juliet were staged specifically for television with the actors having rehearsed specifically to be performing for the camera. Twelfth Night and Macbeth on the other hand were both theatrical performances that were adapted for the small screen after successful stage runs. Listen and watch the actors in each of the former two as compared to the latter and you will notice a difference in style and tone when it comes to how they deliver their lines.

In Macbeth and Twelfth Night where the actors had prepared for the stage, and are primarily stage actors, you will notice a greater flamboyance in the way they speak the verse. Words are enunciated with greater care and there is a fullness to their speech and a colour to their performance that is lacking in the others. In both Lear and Romeo And Juliet the actors tend to "talk" their lines rather than "perform" them and are in general less theatrical having rehearsed specifically for performances in front of the cameras.

There are times, especially in Macbeth where many of the actors don't have the on camera experience of the other performances (it was shot in 1978 and neither McKellen or Dench had yet to embark on their film careers to any large degree) it often gives the impression that they are overacting something horrible. They are simply too big for the camera to contain as they are still giving performances that are geared towards ensuring that the person in the last row of the theatre is able to get as much out of it as those in the front row.

Personally I preferred the two that had been transfered from the stage to the television over the two made for the small screen. Although I wasn't necessarily in agreement with all the choices Ian McKellen made in his portrayal of Macbeth, I found his and Judi Dench's performance as Lady Macbeth specifically, and the casts of Macbeth and Twelfth Night in general, more exciting and alive than the others.

While the casts of the other two performances gave wonderful readings of the text, showing complete mastery and comprehension of the language and the verse, they lack the theatricality of the stage versions. While this makes them ideal for the camera, which picks up the subtlest of movements and slightest nuances of speech, I personally find that it takes a good deal of the life out of the text. This was language that was written for declaiming from a stage, to be larger than life, so when it is performed as realistic dialogue appropriate for the small screen I find it loses what made it special in the first place.

Of the four performances in the set, only Twelfth Night wasn't filmed in the 1970s, and the two made for television productions show their age somewhat more than the others. In particular the sets are more obviously stage pieces than the realistic backgrounds today's audiences are used to. The production of Macbeth is spared this because they recreated the minimalist stage settings of the original production and perform it in a virtually bare studio, using only occasional pieces of furniture to define the setting.

In Romeo And Juliet and King Lear the obvious artificiality of the sets creates a theatrical backdrop for the performances that is somewhat at odds with the more naturalistic presentation of the text. While it doesn't detract from the quality of individual performances, they were disconcerting enough that I was distracted from the on screen action each time the set changed.

The production of Twelfth Night avoided the pitfall of dating itself by using deliberately theatrical settings. By not trying for realism, and staging most of the action using the same set, they found the ideal compromise between stage and screen. Of the four productions it is the most obviously filmed theatrical performance, as the cameras seem to be accommodating the original staging instead of the performances being adapted to the screen.

In some ways this means that this Twelfth Night is the closest to actually attending a Shakespearean production in the theatre. While not as spectacular as the Macbeth is in places, it is probably the most consistent of the four productions. The performances manage to retain the theatrical nature of the text, while at the same time playing for the cameras instead of for the last row of the theatre. Of course it doesn't hurt that Twelfth Night is one of the most approachable of Shakespeare's comedies, but that shouldn't detract or diminish the quality of this performance.

In the end, despite some disconcerting elements, these are four wonderful examples of what it's like to see Shakespeare performed when none of the actors are intimidated by the text, and everyone from the leads to the smallest walk-on has a firm grasp of how to "speak the speech". Outside of the recent production of Merchant Of Venice featuring Al Pacino in the role of Shylock, these have to be four of the best filmed productions of Shakespeare I've seen.

If you're looking for the means to introduce someone to the joys of the Bard of Avon, or simply would like to enjoy the pleasure of seeing his work properly acted for a change, this is a great package. You can pick up a copy of the Thames Shakespeare Collection at theA&E web site. You won't regret it.

Leap In The Dark