Pocket Symphony

With many of my friends out at the Coachella concert in Indio this weekend, I decided to brave the heat for at least a couple of hours and go to the Los Angeles 2008 Festival of Books at UCLA. While it was cool to see some great authors and some neat independent publishers, the one thing that struck me most was how the celebrity of a writer is nothing compared to the celebrity of a television personality, even in a forum that’s theoretically devoted to literature.

I arrived there in the early afternoon, and I decided that the first thing I’d do was go over to the table where Ray Bradbury was signing books. Ray’s a living legend, and at 87 years old, he’s been a hero to several generations of science fiction fans (including me). So when I got to the general area where Bradbury was supposed to be, I made a beeline for the longest line… only to discover that the long wait wasn’t for Bradbury, but for… Valerie Bertinelli! I quickly whipped out my camera for a quick picture (hey, even I enjoyed One Day At A Time) and then found the Bradbury line, which was about a third as long. While standing in line for my signed copy of Something Wicked This Way Comes, I started thinking about the fact that Bertinelli, who has written a sum total of one book (which is a memoir and almost certainly ghost-written) is given the title of “author” just as much as Bradbury. I thought about the kind of things I might say to Bradbury (”You were an incredible influence on my life,” “Your ability to create an utterly believable fantasy world from whole cloth is a constant marvel to me,” “I credit you and a very small circle of your peers with rescuing a literary genre from the trash and raising it up to a new level of critical appreciation as an art form.,”…) and imagined myself saying those things to Valerie Bertinelli. Frightening.

I did finally get up to the front of the line, where I bought my book, said a quick “thank you” - no time for fawning fanboy stuff today - snapped a picture and left to explore the rest of the Festival.

The only other thing I wanted to do that day was to hear Richard Price speak and have him sign a copy of his latest book, but that was over an hour away, so I figured I would just explore for a bit. There was a lot of excitement around the children’s section - lots of publishers and toy companies displaying their wares, in tents which radiated out from a central stage, where kid’s favorites were performing. As I wandered through, I noticed a line that made even Bertinelli’s crowd seem paltry. I walked up to the signing tent and saw that it was for Disney Channel favorites Aly & AJ. The genuine excitement that their young fans seemed to be displaying as they signed their books made a little dent in my cynical heart. I guess if even one of a kid’s treasures is a book, the U.S. literacy rate will continue to stay at a reasonably high level.

Before Richard Price spoke, I went over to the huge Borders tent to pick up a copy of his newest novel “Lush Life”. I’ve been a fan of Price’s work since I was a teenager, and I’ve been excited to read his latest, particularly after the great New York Times review by Michiko Kakutani (which begins: “No one writes better dialogue than Richard Price — not Elmore Leonard, not David Mamet, not even David Chase. Not only does Mr. Price have perfect pitch for the lingo, the rhythms and the inflections of how people talk, but he also knows how to use a line or two or even a single phrase to conjure a character’s history and emotional vibe. He’s as adept as Tom Wolfe at using his journalistic eye for social detail — for how people juggle work and love and money, and navigate the confounding maze of class and social status in big cities today — but he does so without turning his characters, as Mr. Wolfe so often does, into caricatures or cartoons.”). They had plenty of copies of his book there, all for sale at the cover price. Even though I had a “25% off” Borders coupon with me, they wouldn’t honor it, because “We’re not hooked up with the main store.” Their credit card machine seemed to be hooked up just fine, though. I coughed up the full $26 + tax and went over to the tent where Price was going to read. His reading went well, his Q&A was informative and funny, and I was able to get the book signed and even share a brief anecdote with him (almost 20 years ago, when I was working as a clerk in Tower Records in NYC, I recognized him. He had just come back from Hollywood after writing the Al Pacino movie “Sea Of Love”, and he told me about his experience as a novelist trying to break into the movie business. It was a memorable and instructive conversation).

With dinner plans an hour away, and with two signed treasures in my plastic bag, I jumped in my car and headed home.

On the way home, while stopped at a traffic light at Hollywood & Highland, I saw (fake) Snoopy and (fake) Barney having a conversation. Without the bathroom breaks and handlers that costumed folks have in theme parks, I could only imagine how horrible it must have been for them among the tourists in the sweltering heat.

I admit it, I’m a fan of Flight Of The Conchords. The clever comedy of the acoustic-folk duo from New Zealand consistently entertains me. Their HBO show, which is basically a live-action version of their BBC radio show, was a surprise hit, and their EP on Sub-Pop was able to straddle the hipster label’s music and comedy genres, and even pick up a Grammy Award.

This past Tuesday, their full-length CD was released, and two days later (that’s Thursday, for those of you playing at home), FOTC was going to do an in-store appearance at Amoeba Records, the largest independent record store in L.A. (in the world? - maybe).

[A brief aside: I love Amoeba. I often jump to its defense when friends argue that it put other mom & pop record stores out of business or that they charge too much for used CDs. But earlier in the week, I had had two disappointing Amoeba experiences: I had visited the store on Saturday for "Record Store Day" to pick up a day-only 10" by Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks, only to discover that the 15 copies(!) that the store had received had sold out within moments of the store's opening, leaving me in a extra-crowded shop with longer-than-usual lines and no special sales or discounts - and then on my return a couple of days later, I asked a clerk in the video department why used and promo copies of the excellent DVD magazine Wholphin were marked at 5 to 10 dollars over the printed cover price, considering they're still all in print and available at book stores all over the city, and was rudely told that "that's capitalism, man." (By the way, if anyone wants to sell me a copy of the Malkmus "Cold Son" 10" - let me know)]

I figured that I’d head over to Amoeba and catch the show, which was scheduled to take place at 6 p.m.

I left work around 4-ish, and went home first to walk and feed the dogs (I know I should have gone straight to Amoeba, but that would make me an irresponsible dog owner - which is one of the worst things one can be), and then headed over to the store on Sunset Blvd. When I got there, there was a line that wrapped 3/4 the way around the block, and apparently, the store was already full (we were told that 1,000 people were inside). I quickly weighed my options (1.stubbornly try to get into the store, 2. go home, 3. go someplace else), and decided to go someplace else. I remembered that my friend Jeff, who, along with his wife Diane, runs the excellent Ocean Avenue Books in San Francisco, had suggested I pick up “The Ten-Cent Plague: The Great Comic-Book Scare And How It Changed America” by David Hajdu. I decided that I would go to Book Soup (a terrific independent bookstore, also on Sunset) and see if they had it. When I arrived at Book Soup, an in-store wine and beer and snack party had just begun for 4 authors from Akashic Books: Mike Farrell (ex TV-star turned activist), Elizabeth Crane, Nina Revoyr, and Abraham Rodriguez. There was no reading, no autograph table - just a bunch of people hanging out and chatting. Very civil. Unlike the massive crowd at the record store, this was a more laid-back affair. I said hello to Mike, Nina and Elizabeth and chatted for several minutes with Abraham. Before he became a novelist and moved to Berlin, he was the leader of the punk band “Urgent Fury”, so we talked about music and politics and the European perception of the US Presidential elections. He was kind enough to sign a copy of his new book, “South By South Bronx” for me. I’m looking forward to reading it. When I went to pay for the books, I noticed that Book Soup also had a copy of the brand-new issue of Wholphin, as well as an autographed copy (!) of the new Julie Andrew memoir for sale. I hung out at the register for a bit, talking about alt-rock, Blake Edwards, Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle, and Buster Keaton with the clerks (more on that later, I’m sure).

In retrospect, I’m not too disappointed that I missed Flight Of The Conchords - they’re playing two nights at The Orpheum next month. Instead, I got to hang with some cool people and pick up some neat stuff. Expect some book reports here soon.

After a half-decade away, I’m back in the music business. The attraction was a simple one: I love music. And now that I live in Los Angeles, I’m trying to get out and see as many bands as I can.

So last Friday, I decided to go down to my local club - Spaceland - and see a few bands. A couple of my good friends joined me for a bite at a neat little Thai restaurant a few doors down from the club, so when we arrived at 9:30, our bellies were full, and we were ready to rock.

First up was Michael Vidal, leader of Abe Vigoda (the band, not the man). I haven’t yet seen Abe Vigoda, but I’ve really liked what I’ve heard so far (I should go see them - I’m missing them tonight, but I should put them on my calendar for May 7 at the Echo). Michael’s brief solo set was less “songs” and more experimental loops with guitar and vocals. Moody, pleasant, but it seemed like it was over almost as soon as it started.

Before the next band, we wandered over to the PRE merchandise table, which was manned by lead singer Akiko “Keeks” Matsuura. I picked up a copy of their new limited edition CD (it comes in a cool embossed tin) and their split “bootleg” single with Canadian band AIDS Wolf. Keeks made sure to remind me that she appears topless in the photos on the single. My pal Chris pointed out that Keeks is a great salesperson.

Then, the second band came on… but I’m going to fast forward to the headliners first.

PRE is a noise rock outfit from England. The band rocked and might have been considered high energy, except the energy of the musicians on stage paled by comparison to that of Keeks, who is clearly the star of the show. Jumping, screaming, cajoling… singing slightly naughty but amusing lyrics - I’m glad I was able to witness their first West Coast show. Here’s a short sample of their insanity:

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But it was the band that played between Michael Vidal and PRE that still has me spinning. They’re called The Mae Shi, and they’ve been playing around SoCal for almost 6 years. They released a couple of CDs and a DVD on 5RC, a subsidiary label of Kill Rock Stars (a label which I admire). They have played out relentlessly for the last few years. Their latest CD (and first full-length to feature a new lead singer) got rave reviews all over the web. How is it that I never listened to the band before?

The Mae Shi started their set from the audience, belting a song called “I Get (Almost) Everything I Want”, as they slowly took the stage. Once on stage, nobody in the band stayed in position for more than a few seconds. They ran back and forth, jumped off the stage, ran backstage to get props, and swapped instruments almost non-stop for the duration of the set. The music ranged from screaming (seeming) chaos to beautiful melodic sing-alongs.

Here’s a short video clip of them playing “Leech & Locust”, during which many audience members danced under a large sheet:

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I had no idea what their songs were about, but I really enjoyed the set, so I headed over to their merch table after their set and picked up their latest CD HLLLYH and a t-shirt - I was really tempted by the home-made sound machines, but I held off.

The next morning, I popped the CD on, and was blown away. First of all, it turns out that this is a concept album all about the events described in the New Testament’s Book of Revelations, from several different points of view. Pretty heavy stuff. It took me a while to realize that the album title is “HaLLeLuYaH” without the vowels. Anyway, on Saturday afternoon, I made my way to my local indie record shop and picked up all of their older releases, except the concert-ony CDR’s, that I still have to track down (glad I saved my money and didn’t buy those sound machines).

But I have to be honest.  Although there are inspired moments of genius in their previous releases, nothing comes close to HLLLYH. It’s like discovering the Beatles when Revolver came out. I know I’m late to the party, but I look forward to whatever comes next. And I will be at their next LA area show.

Here’s the opening song from HLLLYH (you can buy the album on CD or double vinyl from the band’s own site):

 

 Lamb and Lion [2:24m]: Play Now | Play in Popup

I admit that even though I’m a movie lover, for the last couple years most of my movie watching has been at home. It’s expensive to go to theaters, and unless I see a movie on opening weekend, the prints are usually so scratched that waiting for a copy on HBO or DVD tends to be a more attractive option. Sadly, though, I miss out on the big screen (obviously) and the the experience of seeing a movie with a crowd.

Since I moved to L.A., I’ve come to realize that, as movie fans go, I’m an amateur. This town is unquestionably a movie town, and there are so many opportunities to see films in special places with special people, that I’ve recently started “going to the movies” again.

To that end, I became a member of American Cinematheque.

There are several reasons why I’m glad I did this:

• A membership at American Cinematheque gives some well-needed money to an organization that’s “dedicated exclusively to the public presentation of the Moving Picture in all its forms.”
• I get discounted tickets to see movies at both the Aero Theatre in Santa Monica and, more importantly for me, The Egyptian Theater in Hollywood.
• The programming at both of these landmark theaters is adventurous and impeccable.
• The crowds are great - full of lovers of cinema.
• As a member I get invited to special screenings of super-cool movies

And that last reason is why I’m posting right now.

Last night, I was lucky enough to attend a screening of Mr. Lonely, the new movie by Harmony Korine.

Korine is probably best known as the former prodigy who wrote the controversial Kids and directed the (equally controversial) Gummo and Julien Donkey-Boy. I don’t want to get into a full-blown review here - maybe sometime later - but I will say that I really enjoyed it. Unlike many of his peers, Korine continues to make independent, true-to-his-vision films. While the main plot of the movie (Michael Jackson impersonator leaves the big city to live on a commune populated exclusively by other impersonators and finds his true self) seems like it is intentionally “weird” - I found the film to be quite gentle and touching.

The cast of the film features some unknowns (including non-actors) as well as a few surprising and cool choices. Playing (impersonators of) The Pope and The Queen are James Fox and Anita Pallenberg, who last appeared together in the Roeg/Cammell 1970 cult masterpiece Performance. Playing a priest in a parallel story is the great director (and friend of Korine) Werner Herzog.

After the screening of the movie, Korine engaged in a Q&A session (in which the moderator seemed confused and awkward and Korine - acting against his previous public persona - was collected, honest and articulate. A particularly nice surprise was when Werner Herzog came up from the audience to help Korine field some questions.

At that point, I reached for my camera and shot a few minutes of video, which I share with you here. A couple of caveats: I wasn’t close to the front of the theater, so I used crappy digital zoom, resulting in odd focus and a “hot pixel” that seems to dance around in the frame. I didn’t edit this at all - it’s just a quick grab of a couple minutes of live footage. I’m too lazy to look up the Dogme rules, but I’m fairly sure it wouldn’t be up to snuff. Enjoy anyway.

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It’s about 7pm on Sunday night, and I’m sitting in a Hollywood coffee shop with a couple of friends. They’re here working on movie scripts - participating in Script Frenzy, where writers are encouraged to complete an entire screenplay in a single month. I would very much like to participate, since it has been years since I have completed a single long-form creative project. However, it’s already the 20th of the the month, and I’ve got plans for several nights in the next two weeks - it ain’t gonna happen. That’s not to say that I don’t plan to get back to writing… but for now, this will have to do.

Quick flashback: When I was in 8th grade, my favorite tome was The Book of Lists.

Essentially a compendium of mostly useless information, The Book of Lists (which is still in print, by the way) spoke to the obsessive in me. I read it all the time - my friend Tom describes it as “The best bathroom book ever” - and while it didn’t make me a better person, it helped me understand that nothing is truly unique, and for every odd piece of trivia, there are several more weirder pieces just like it.

Three years later, I had an AP US History teacher named Tim Cullen who would pepper his lessons with pieces of trivia. Cullen argued that not only did these tidbits humanize the figures we were studying, but at some point, somewhere down the line, we’d be at a cocktail party with some big hotshot, and our knowledge of the quirks of Mary Todd Lincoln would make us more memorable people and get us a leg up in the business world.

In retrospect, Cullen was right, and books like The Book of Lists (yes, there are others!) certainly made me a more interesting person.

An odd side effect, though, is that I turned into what the English call a “trainspotter”, especially around my areas of interest. If I saw a movie that I enjoyed, I needed to see every movie by that director. If I heard a cool song, I needed to hear every b-side by that artist. Luckily, I never had the budget to become a real obsessive record collector - the kind who needed to have copies of every variant pressing of every single, with picture sleeves from every different territory, but I definitely did become a music collector - I needed to hear all the songs (and at least have knowledge of all the variant sleeves etc).

When I restarted my MousePod show, my method of approaching bodies of work set the format. I planned on going through every single animated Disney feature, in chronological order. Granted, I never got that far into my list before I pulled the plug on the show, but the positive feedback I got from listeners showed that I wasn’t alone in my way of grouping things.

So why this rant here today? Perhaps it’s a just a little soul-baring to ingratiate myself to you, the mystery reader of my new blog. Maybe. But probably not. I think what it is is a preview, or a warning, of what to expect. I’m not going to talk about anything in isolation. Everything is a part of a greater whole. And that whole is full of trivia. And I’ll be bringing it here. To you.

Lucky you.