H is for "I Hate Yuppies!

My boss might get mad at this entry, but I sure am sick to death of watching coiffed yuppies buying Freakonomics (Incidentally, it's a book that I encouraged my boss to stock in larger numbers when last spring yuppie after yuppie was asking me for it. You think I'll get a raise for such observational talents? No). Anyway, my non-point here is that I loathe this book even though it may be great and wise. I saw the authors on a talk show and they seemed intelligent. Anyway, anyway, I'm highly suspicious of books that purport to subvert conventional wisdom only to replace it with a new formula that everyone takes as the new gospel (yuppies love people to do their thinking for them so they can go on with the business of disappearing up their well-lotioned asses). Not that I've read the book, just the phenomenon.

Whew! That felt better! I think I'll start off every entry with a no-nothing rant.

Another more positive "H" besides hate is Hamilton, as in Patrick Hamilton. I've just read his 1941 novel called "Hangover Square." It takes place in London in 1939 on the eve of Britian's entry in WWII. The protagonist is a sad, shy alcoholic called George Harvey Bone who is besotted with a beautiful bitchy actress-wannabe called Netta (she also is sexually turned on by fascists and has a crush on Hitler) who merely strings him along for drinks. What Netta doesn't know is that George has a split personality and that this personality which is increasingly taking over his being is planning on killing her. I suppose the book will be read by some as misogynistic, but I'd go for misanthropic. "Hangover Square" is a study of the fine line between unrequited love and psychosis, not to mention a portrait of pre-WWII English pub life.

Our "H" vinyl listening has included a Billie Holiday twofer called "God Bless the Child." It features "Jim," a song co-written by my grandfather, Milton Samuels (more on this in my next 'zine).

Also, a Buddy Holly comp of odds and sods called "For the First Time Anywhere" which features unreleased (in the eighties) tracks. Wonderful stuff. I need a comprehensive Buddy Holly comp. What would he have become? An orchestral pop artist on the level of Brian Wilson?
A country rocker?

Also, two blues Hookers: Earl Hooker's Arhoolie release, "Two Bugs and a Roach." The songs are ragtag but the guitar playing is snappy. Also, a John Lee Hooker twofer called "Boogie Chillen." It's so-so stuff of John Lee playing solo for a folk crowd. The disc of unreleased performances, including a brooding version of "Night Time is the Right Time," is better than the released one.

Final Holiday

Here I am, waiting for a new mattress to be delivered while I listen to a Billie Holiday two-fer (on vinyl) called "God Bless the Child." This set covers a five year period between 1936-1941, arguably the peak of Ms. Holiday's art. Dig the small combos backing her, including Lester Young and Teddy Wilson. There's something to be said for the three minute jazz song where the soloists only get a couple of choruses (if that) to have their say. You ask me, this is the height of American civilization.

On CD, I'm about to tackle the numerous Steve Earle disks I have. I listened to "Guitar Town" the other day. Mostly, it still holds up and doesn't sound too dated. Maybe it is Steve's greatest work, certainly his best commercial release. God bless him for going his own way, but one sometimes wonders what his alternative career would have been like had he played the game a little more. As big as Travis Tritt? But then he wouldn't be Steve Earle.

When I saw Steve at the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival last fall he sounded better vocally than he had in a long time. Maybe the weight loss? Maybe he quit smoking?

Post-Holidays Holiday

Since the Psychedelic Eskimo and I moved to a new apartment a month ago, my records have been out of order. Also, working the Christmas retail detail. Difficult to be alphabetical-like in such circumstances. Now that the holidays are over and the PE is allowing me to use her nice new record shelving, the alphabet has been restored. So, onward!

I believe we last left off with Billie Holiday. Over the past couple of days I've spun Volumes 3 and 4 of The Quintessential Billie Holiday series on Columbia. The Quintessential B H series covers Lady Day's "classic" thirties to forties period (my dictionary defines "quintessential"--the adjective form of quintessence--as "The Pure and concentrated essence of a substance"). Is this the pure and concentrated essence of Lady Day? Pretty much, I guess. Billie Holiday transforms some pretty innocuous songs into something personal with her lonely ache of a voice. Obviously one brings a lot of Billie Holiday knowledge-baggage to her records from sixty five years ago. Maybe she wasn't sad and strung out when she cut these sides. Maybe she was in a perfectly lovely mood. Why wouldn't she be when Lester Young and Johnny Hodges were both backing her on a couple of tunes.

Currently, I'm reading Phillip Pullman's "His Dark Materials" trilogy, which has gotten me to pick up "Paradise Lost" (the trilogy is based on Milton's epic poem). Hail Satan!