Go Metric

Unforgotten Rebels

by Gary Pig Gold

With the release, in practically every format imaginable, of some TOO-long-awaited Forgotten Rebels tribute albums, not to mention an accompanying eBook even, I couldn’t help but cast what remains of my memory back to that good ol’ Summer of Hate, and…

Ten Reasons Why I Can NEVER Forget the Rebels

1. The very first time I ever laid eyes upon The Artist Soon To Be Known As DeSadist, at Simply Saucer’s Hamilton, Ontario band house in very late October 1977, he was meticulously dressed head to foot as an ersatz yet somehow uniquely eclectic Johnny Rotten …and it wasn’t even Halloween yet!

2. The very first thing Mickey DeS ever shouted at me that night (over the din of Saucer’s four turntables simultaneously spinning a side each of Metal Machine Music) was “If I get a band together, can you give us a gig?” I promised that I would not only do that, but I’d put him within the hallowed pages of my Pig Paper to boot. Yes, in a word, I was intrigued. 

3. Amazingly, within a week (!) Mickey had not only assembled the very first Rebels – and photographed them beating up some bearded hippie in a local alleyway – he duly supplied me as well with enough biographical background (and I quote, “Influences: Sex Pistols, Iggy Pop, James Williamson, Ace Frehley; Ambition: to get my hands on Sally Cato”) to warrant a place of pride right there in Pig Paper # 8. In my own word then I was, yes, impressed.

4. So, keeping my promise, I invited Mickey, Chriss Suicide, Mister Madness and Les Ripper to warm up the crowd at the very next Simply Saucer soiree I held in the local YWCA. And warm up they certainly did, setting fire to a Canadian flag at the end of their set and causing The Hamilton Downtown Young Men’s Christian Association to sue me for $400 in damages (including $25.00 over harm inflicted upon carrots and lettuces). “I would also like to inform you that at no time in the future your group will be allowed to use the YMCA facilities,” Y manager George [last name still blacked out on paperwork] informed us. Point taken.

5. Typically and totally undaunted however, Mickey proceeded to canvas the town (meaning not only Saucer House, but the local Tim Hortons donut shop as well) for all the ten dollar bills he could cadge, beg, borrow and steal, rented a genuine Radio Shack mixer and some stray microphones, and soon produced the obviously titled Burn The Flag demo-slash-cassette. Upon hearing the abundant raw power therein, I immediately insisted he corral all the Rebels he could and meet me over on the nearby McMaster University campus for the band’s very first radio interview. Well! Mickey was, as always, a wizard; a true star, part J. Rotten, part D. Rickles. The telephone lines lit up, orders for over a dozen Burn The Flag’s poured in, and most impressive yet fortuitous of all? Immensely respected concert promoter Gary Topp asked that The Forgotten Rebels perform as soon as possible …all the way over there in Toronto!            

6. Interestingly, but not that surprisingly, Mickey quickly assumed the focal point for all things Rebel …just as he had all those months ago whilst holding court at Saucer’s. Gary Topp tried to convince me to convince Mickey to start appearing on stage alone, as in solo – sans FLQ guitar even! – as a monologuist. But, rather than become Henry Rollins years before the fact, Mickey then and forever after remained stubbornly and resolutely loyal to his vision, his ideals, and to his beloved Rebels. Why, he wouldn’t even let me produce An Evening with Mickey DeSadist spoken-word album for him ...and if that ain’t Hollywood, I’m not sure what is! 

7. Meanwhile, thanks to my run-in with George at the YMCA, not to mention pouring all the money I didn’t have into Simply Saucer’s first record, the Rebels’ “National Unity” b/w “Angry” never did appear as planned on Pig Record # 2. But, most happily, their career on vinyl turned out more than alright …I mean, who else but M. DeSadist could take one listen to the Dutch single “We’re So Glad Elvis Is Dead” by Tits I was distributing and morph it most effortlessly into that more-than-anthemic “Elvis Is Dead”?!

8. And speaking of iconic socio-musical figures, who else but Mickey could conceive of, and then convince (though I’m sure he knew nothing about it) no less than Prime Minister Pierre Elliott Trudeau – fresh from a run-in with those semi-Rolling Stones – to help promote the Rebels’ inaugural Tomorrow Belongs To Us release? Hopefully you’ve heard the tales; luckier still, you’ve seen the photographic evidence. And the Liberal Party of Canada? Believe me, they’ve never been quite the same since. 

9. May I just mention at this point that it has not always been simply Mickey’s wholly P.T. Barnum M.O. that has impressed me and those all around his show-bizzy circles. The man’s taste in music quite possibly equals even his flair for the hautest in haberdashery. To wit: Who the heck else, at the very height of Never Mind The Bollocks and Road To Ruin, would have the unmitigated cahones to strut around Hamilton with Sensational Alex Harvey Band platters? Come to think of it, I believe Mickey was even the town’s most unapologetic ABBA fan back then too …or maybe that was Steve from Teenage Head…

10. Suffice to say though, when all is said and sung, The Forgotten Rebels have made it through punk, new wave, no wave, new romantic, neo-rockabilly, (hair-) metal, garage, grunge, and just about every other audio pigeonhole imaginable with their audience, not to mention values, firmly and entirely intact. No small feat indeed in these dear dead days of Green Day, for starters. And I credit that all, as should you, to the one and only Mickey DeSadist, Rebel without pause. And you know what? He did it all without ever giving up his day job! 

Long may he burn.

Fools’ Hall Of Fame

by Gary Pig Gold

While those arbitrators of all things rock and roll once again indoctrinated more of their own on behalf of what remains of the music industry several weeks ago, I decided to virtually canvas some of MY musical heroes with one simple, or perhaps not so simple question:

Why on Earth is PAT BOONE still not in the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame?

Phil Kaufman, Road Mangler Deluxe
Pat Boone? Pop Hall Of Fame …or the White Buck Shoe Hall. But NEVER Rock ‘n’ Roll!  (P.S.: Where is the “ROADIE Hall”?)

R. Stevie Moore, DIY home recording iconoclast (whose father Bobby actually attended East Nashville High School with Pat!)
Yes! Debate irrelevant... 50 hits, reason enough!

I've been knowed to be WRONG! (But not very often!!!)

Carol Kaye, Bassist on many of the Greatest Records Ever Made
I think that Pat Boone should be inducted in the RRHOF because, regardless of who he supposedly "copied" or tried to "sound like," he did something no other singer of his time did:  He brought pop-rock into the mainstream of music, in a pretty good way I'd say. 

P.S.: I played guitar (and then bass later) on many of his things. He was doing stuff back then that the ordinary pop singer didn't do at all.

Jeff Tamarkin, who just helped Howard Kaylan write his “Shell Shocked” memoir
Of course not, but I don't believe James Taylor should've been either. Neither one is a rock ‘n’ roll singer.    

Stephanie Chernikowski,  world-renowned photographer (…who actually once received a kiss from the PRE-ARMY Elvis!!)  
Absolutely not. He is not rock ‘n’ roll.

Bob Brainen, WFMU-FM
It's all relative, and there are people nominated and selected that have less to do with rock ‘n’ roll than him. As far as his place in the scheme of things, he was someone who watered down rock ‘n’ roll, but I enjoy some of his records, so I'd say YES.

For one, he put out a great record produced by Terry Melcher called “Beach Girl” in ‘64 (written by Melcher and Bruce Johnston, who also did backing vocals). The flip side was “Little Honda.”

Peter Noone, the Artist formerly known as Herman
Hmmmm.

If he is inducted before Davy Jones and Tommy Lasorda, who surely are more to do with rock ‘n’ roll than Pat Boone, I will make Little Jimmy Osmond the editor of “Q Magazine.”

Mike McDowell, “Blitz” Magazine
Does Pat Boone belong in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?

Absolutely!

Joel Selvin, San Francisco Chronicle
I've heard Boone on this subject – the popularizer vs. the innovator – and while he's right about the significance of the popularizer, his records were too god awful to last. I'm sorry, his "Tutti Frutti" doesn't hold up, while Bill Haley's "Rip It Up" may out-rock Little Richard (boo! heresy!). 

I say vote for Fabian. When it comes to phony rock and rollers, he's the real deal.

Jon Sievert, Humble Press
NEVER! Pat Boone was the ultimate anti-rock ‘n’ roll figure, created by record companies for the sole purpose of shielding white America from the likes of Fats and Little Richard while ripping them off.

And his music really sucked, which should be the ultimate criteria for determining worthiness.

Irwin Chusid, “Songs In The Key Of Z”
I have a DEFINITE opinion on the matter.

The answer, by the way, is Yes. 

Domenic Priore, Sunset Strip historian
No. Unless Phil Collins gets in. Because they are equals.

Mark Johnson, Cold Weather musician
Pat Boone was a more relaxed actor than Elvis Presley (let’s put that adult contemporary smooth temperament to good use) – more at ease on camera and he could deliver his lines without making you feel like he knew he was on all the time – which unfortunately was how I perceived Elvis in most of his films.

Why are we talking about Rock and Roll when we could be talking about a lifetime achievement award for Journey to the Center of the Earth? 

Brett Milano, Bosstown journalist
Yes, but only by virtue of that cocktail version of "Stairway to Heaven" he did a few years ago.

Phil Angotti, a man of Life and Rhymes
No, absolutely not. He doesn't have a rock ‘n’ roll bone (boone) in his body.

Mick Farren, original Deviant
My first instinct was no, never:  It would be an insult to Little Richard. RICHARD Boone did more for rock ‘n’ roll as far as I'm concerned. 

But then I thought, yeah, why not? It only shows the RRHOF as the dumb hype tourist trap farce it really is. 

Induct everyone! Tiny Tim, The Chipmunks, One String Sam, Frank Stallone, The Big Bopper. I mean, where's Syd Barrett, or Roky Erickson, and did they ever get round to Gene Vincent?

I can't even keep up with the self congratulatory nonsense. It's the Paul Shaffer world and I don't go there.

Karl Ikola, Anopheles Records
I did listen to my mother's Pat Boone 45 singles as a little single digit lad in the very early '70s, but I can't say I particularly liked them even then, even before I had taste : )

Kim Cooper, still Lost In The Grooves
When I was fifteen, the headmaster of my freaky new age alternative school somehow arranged that his students would appear on Pat Boone's Christian cable show.

As all of the other kids and teachers were desperate to be televised, I was unable to get out of joining this group at the taping, which took place in Pat's large suburban tract home high above the Sepulveda Pass – in a street of houses notorious for having been built atop improperly sealed landfill! 

There was no way in the world that I was going to appear on a Christian TV show hosted by someone who had turned vital '50s rock ’n’ roll into namby-pamby candyfloss, and I was saying as much to my pal Chris when Pat ambled over to ask why we weren't with the other kids. I'm pretty sure he heard enough of my screed to get the point, but he was extremely gracious and we reciprocated.

Chris and I sat out the taping, remarking that Pat didn't seem like such a bad guy, really. I don't think he belongs in the Hall of Fame, but then many of the past inductees don't either, and his entry would at least inspire debate.

His fifties' recordings presumably generated royalties for some deserving folks and helped ease the mass acceptance of rock songwriting. I haven't felt the need to demonize Pat Boone since the day he played it so cool with a couple of snotty kids. And you gotta admit, that heavy metal phase was a hoot.

Ian Whitcomb, Ragtime Raconteur and one-time Father of Irish Rock 
I'm assuming by your tone that you assume most rocksters to have nothing but contempt for Pat Boone. But I have always liked his music and the man himself.

In fact, I have very fond memories of his version of “Love Letters In The Sand,” since it was to his record that I received my very first kiss from a teenager called Debbie Briggs in a punt (that's a low flat-bottomed boat) on a man-made lake at an upper-class holiday resort in East Anglia, England in 1957. Needless to say, I was a teenager, too. And what a kiss it was! Sent tingles all over me and I've never had an experience as intense since. Boone’s record was what got her going.

What these silly myopic rocksters don’t understand is that Boone was a crooner in the great tradition of crooners, going back to the 1920s. And the mellifluous and comforting voices of the best crooners will continue to spread contentment long after the noxious caterwauling of the Dylans have been buried in a black hole.

During MY rock ‘n’ roll period I appeared as a guest on The Pat Boone Show, where I sang “You Turn Me On” to my uke accompaniment. Then I handed the uke to Pat who proceeded to strum and sing “Love Letters In The Sand” while Soupy Sales and I provided a tasteful doo-wop backing noise. I told Pat the story of the kiss. He seemed impressed at the time. I have this show on film to prove that I'm not lying. I've been known to invent, you know, but this was for real.

I'm sorry Boone decided to go heavy metal, thus denying his impeccable wasp background.  Somebody must stand up for pure white traditions and if it has to be me, so be it.

Chad Stuart, Chad & Jeremy
WHY PAT BOONE SHOULD NOT BE INDUCTED INTO THE ROCK AND ROLL HALL OF FAME:

Because he didn't make a genuine contribution to the art form.

Because he made records which were a pale imitation of the genuine article.

Because he never poured his heart and soul into his recordings.

Because he was a pop singer, and they don't count.

(The "pop" hall of fame, maybe.)

Henny de Pater, Dutch Country D.J. Association
Will, or Must, Pat Boone be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?

Why not?? 

Like Elvis, he did a lot of sweet ballads. My old girlfriend loved that warm and tender voice, and by telling her that Pat Boone was my favorite too (but then, what I didn’t tell her was I was really a Rocker at heart!), I scored many points and left other guys, who were after that same girl, far far behind me.

That’s why "good old" Pat ought to be inducted:  So that other people won’t forget him either.

The Stomp Is Gone

by Gary Pig Gold

“Yeah, right,” I can see some of you foreigners sneering right about now: “What the hell good ever come out of Canada?!!” 

Well, besides the (very early) Guess Who, SCTV, and of course Young Neil, for seventy-seven years there roamed across the Great Wide Northlands a man, a myth – dare I say, a LEGEND who cast a long, black, yet somehow barely perceptible shadow over every guitar lasher who means a half hoot on either side of the dreaded U.S. / Canada border. A man who possessed a wicked tongue, beaver-sharp mind, commanding left leg and, above all, a wit and wisdom before which few others dare even stand, let alone deserve to approach.

That man, that myth, and/or that legend was, and forever shall be…

Stompin’ Tom Connors. 

WHO?

Are You Receiving Me? #52 — Yo La Tengo's Fade

By Mike Faloon

Yo La Tengo
Fade
Matador

The Debut and Demise of the Yo La Tengo Five Minute Song Theory

The Minutemen version – the best Yo La Tengo songs are over five minutes long.

The Yes version – I’ve never tested this theory. It came to me when I opened Fade for the first time. As I looked at the times of the songs I wanted to fast forward to the gold, to the songs that were going to stick, the tunes I’d be going back to over and over again. I always like songs on Yo La Tengo records. I seldom listen to Yo La Tengo records from start to finish. My favorite songs are the long ones, the ones with a kaleidoscopic mix of guitar feedback and organ and hypnotic drum beats, vocals squished into the background somewhere. I’m thinking of “Sunsquashed” and the best tunes from Elect-O-Pura (1996) and I Can Hear the Heart Beating As One (1997). 

I was confident Fade would yield wonderful material. I also assumed there would be songs best skipped. Could I use the lengths of the songs to predict the former from the latter?

ZZ Top: Do All Bands Incorporate Fire Into Their Shows?

By John Q. Adams III

My first ZZ Top concert was at Buffalo’s Memorial Auditorium on April 1, 1980. The Aud was hardly an ideal live music venue, but for my third concert ever it was still an exciting experience. My memories of that show were recently revisited when I watched the ZZ Top: Live in Germany 1980 DVD. It’s a good bet that the April 20, 1980 German gig is pretty close to what I saw and perhaps why I enjoyed it so much.

The show — filmed at the Grugahalle in Essen, Germany for the Rockpalast TV series just after the release of their classic Deguello album — captures the band “before sequencers and synthesizers, epitomizing their ‘lil’ ol’ blues band from Texas’ nickname.” In addition to a number of choice Deguello tracks, the set is complemented by tracks drawn predominantly from their Tres Hombres and Fandango! albums.

I think the key here is “...before sequencers and synthesizers....”. 

By 1980, these three cats had been at it for 10 years and were a pretty tight little unit. 1979’s Degüello was the first ZZ Top album I purchased in a store (I had the previous LPs but probably ordered them through Goldmine or maybe from a record club) and I was really stoked to learn that they were coming to Buffalo. This would be my third concert — my first two were KISS at the Aud in 1978 and 1979 — and I was wondering what kind of show a band put on without all the blood and fire.

I’ll be darned — seems like this one started with fire after all. Blacked out stage with fiery logo below the drum riser with horns playing over the PA. Did all bands incorporate fire of some sort into their show? (Actually no, as I learned at a Bob Seger show five months later.)

That would look way cooler if I knew how to make a gif of it.

And then they start right into “I Thank You.”  Got the choreographed moves going right off the bat and Billy and Dusty are scooting around the stage in some kind of slipper-looking wrestling shoes. But the playing is solid and this is gonna be a real nice time.

Two songs later and we’re at “Jesus Just Left Chicago” — a favorite of mine (I always liked it and not just as the second part of a two-fer) and one of the bluesier things these guys have ever done.  But not the bluesiest. No, that’ll come two songs after...

“Manic Mechanic.” Two things about this one. First, the gravelly vocals by Gibbons. In listening to the LP, I always thought there was some kind of Frampton "Do You Feel" voice thing going on but in watching the video, it seems like it’s just Billy growling it out. Makes it even cooler, you ask me.  Second, the line “Have mercy Miss Percy, I done put the coon tune on this bet/(vette)”.  That always stuck me as a bit racist but I read somewhere that “coon tune” is Hot Rod slang for modifying a car which is keeping with the theme of the song.

OK, “Fool For Your Stockings.” This one stands out to me due to a radio broadcast of the May 4, 1980 show at the Capitol Theater in Passaic, NY. Gibbons introduces the song saying “Blues time in the Capitol Theater, right now!” and any time I hear “FFYS,” I say those words to myself. It’s almost like that introduction is a part of the song and is hardwired into my brain. (I’m guessing he probably said “Blues time in Buffalo” or something similar at the show I attended, but if so it’s lost to me, whereas the Capitol Theater line has stuck with me.) I was familiar with the song since it was on Degüello but I had no idea what kind of monster it would turn into live. 

When the Reverend Willie G. started into his “Those $15.95 come see me at midnight stockings” sermon, at the 3:10 mark in the clip below, I was slack-jawed.  Where did this come from? That ain’t on the album! “The Green Cross. The Black Cross. The Heavy Cross...” What the hell?!... By the time he was finished, I was just about ready to jump up screaming “Testify!!”  As I mentioned, I had been to a couple KISS shows so I knew that between song banter was a given (Paul Stanley, right?!...) but this was some little speech right in the middle of a song. Quite a mind blower at the time, I’m here to tell you.

One song after that and then we get “El Diablo.” For me this is a nice little number. Off the Tejas LP, it didn’t really grab me originally but viewing it all these years later it has some nice guitar work and is a pretty decent song. A hidden gem, really.

After three more songs comes La Grange. Is there anyone who doesn’t know the “Hown, hown, hown..” beginning of this beauty? Tho’ to be honest, the intro on this one reminded me of the 1977 Brownsville Station tune “The Martian Boogie.”  A nice bit of slide guitar by Billy on this one too, by the way.

At this point the band takes a short break (with backstage footage on the DVD) before returning to the stage and introducing The Lone Wolf Horns to play along on “She Loves My Automobile.” The Lone Wolf Horns is a projection of the band playing horns on a screen behind drummer Frank Beard, who seems especially taken with this technology and continuously looks back at the screen.  The Horns stick around for “Hi Fi Mama” and then two songs later we get a spirited rendition of “Jailhouse Rock” which goes into “Tush,” a tune with probably Billy’s best known slide work.

Another short break and the band returns to play a rolicking version of “Tube Snake Boogie” (studio version released a year later on 1981’s El Loco) and finishes with “Just Got Paid” (with more sweet slide and the cool lyric “If you believe in working hard all day, just step in my shoes and take my pay.”)

Including a song that had yet to appear on an album and playing 9/10s of their latest release might seem like a surefire yawner of a show, but being in the audience back then and watching the Rockpalast DVD now, I realize this was one of my favorite shows as a teen.

The 1980 show was originally released in 2009 as part of a two-disc Double Down Live set but is now available separately. The other disc in the DDL set features 11 live numbers shot during their European tour in 2008 along with interview clips and backstage footage. 

At the risk of sounding like Grandpa Simpson, they sure knew how to do it back in the day...

 

Are You Receiving Me? #51— Time to Go – The Southern Psychedelic Movement 1981 - 1986

By Mike Faloon

Various Artists
Time to Go – The Southern Psychedelic Movement 1981 - 1986
Flying Nun Records

A few years ago a pen pal came through town. We’d traded records and zines over the years. We hit the record stores, grabbed a bite. Good time. Along the way he talked about how he studies scenes. Some people get into a band, binge on the side projects and B-sides, he delved into whole scenes, very specific scenes—Cleveland in the mid-‘70s, New York loft jazz from the early ‘70s. Sounded more like anthropology to me, more like work, like the “where” and “when” eclipsed the “what.”

Over time I’ve found I have the same affliction. I started off wanting to hear Popllama bands like the Young Fresh Fellows, Fastbacks, Posies, and Squirrels. I found myself wanting to hear Red Dress and the Acoustinauts and the ever-elusive Boy From Hell box set. In short, everything listed in the label’s catalogs. Went through the same thing with Dirtnap Records. Lately it’s been Recess Records — they get everything right. 

Even if I don’t love the release in question I’m glad to have heard it. Relieved in some cases. A gap has been filled. An itch scratched. Better yet, a favorite new record often discovered.

The scene I go back to most often is New Zealand pop and rock from the ‘80s and ‘90s, especially the Flying Nun bands. Time to Go collects 20 tracks from the label’s early years. It’s a wonderful record. I say that now because I’m going to veer a bit and I want to put the conclusion up front: Time to Go is terrific.

Now: what I feel to be obligatory background info re: the record’s subtitle, The Southern Psychedelic Movement 1981 – 1986. There’s the potential for confusion, especially among those of us in North America. I know there was for me. Last part first. 

1981. The year Ronald Reagan was sworn into office. But not all was bleak on planet earth. On the other side of this big blue marble Roger Shepherd was doing his best to save us. He formed Flying Nun Records. In short order he put out the Chills, the Clean, the Verlaines, Sneaky Feelings, and dozens more. The Flying Nun back catalog is an overflowing treasure chest.

“Southern” equals southern New Zealand, Christchurch and Dunedin, to be more precise.

“Psychedelic” does not equal the conventional “long jams, Lewis Carroll, and flowers in gun barrels” use of the term. In the liner notes Bruce Russell makes a roundabout claim for these New Zealand bands borrowing from the American and English bands of ’65 - ’67. Conceptually, sure, just don’t expect to hear echoes of Jefferson Airplane, the Dead, or crossing the pond, Soft Machine or Pink Floyd. I do hear the other groups Russell mentions: Wire, the Fall, Joy Division. But it’s more shared influences that the unoriginal swiping of ideas, riffs, and/or attitudes. (That said, the flute part on the Look Blue Purple song could have floated out of Golden Gate Park in early ’67 and it’s none the worse for its seeming heritage.)

Many of Flying Nun’s best known bands appear on Time to Go. There are cuts from the Chills, the Clean, Sneaky Feelings, Tall Dwarfs, and the Great Unwashed (a Clean side project). Each of them is represented well. But the real joy here is the number of bands I’d never heard before. The Pin Group, the Gordons, Look Blue Go Purple, Shallows, the Double Happys, the list goes on. 15 of the 20 cuts rise above. That’s a .750 clip. Reach for the mouse. Clink the link below. Thank me later.

I just wish there was more information about the bands. The heft of the gatefold is considerable, and Bruce Russell’s liner notes paint part of the picture. But still relative newcomers, like myself, are being introduced to the most of these combos and we need to know more. It’s enough to dig a tune, I want the backstory.  I want to know the extent to which I’m hearing the tip of the iceberg. Is this their one tune or do other potential gems await on some album or EP? Can’t just leave a music geek hanging.

>

Interview with Mark Ryan (Marked Men, Mind Spiders)

On Brian Eno and Behavior Modification

By Mike Faloon

It took a while but I finally saw the Marked Men in the spring of 2011. That winter felt really long. When I heard about the Marked Men playing in Chicago, along with the Arrivals and Toys That Kill, I treated myself to a plane ticket (and a ticket to the show — not much point in flying to the Windy City just to stand outside the club).

To my way of thinking this wasn’t just a show, it was a cultural event—the Marked Men, the Arrivals, and Toys That Kill on the same stage in the same night! It merited significant documentation. I couldn’t muster much in the “significant documentation” department. I did, however, think that interviewing the three bands would be a lot of fun.

It was. At the time I was convinced that having interviews with bands of this caliber would spur me into publishing the next print issue of Go Metric. A year and a half later said issue is still draped in cob webs.

The interviews went really well, though, and I hated the thought of them remaining on my mp3 player, especially the following interview with Mark Ryan, singer/guitarist for the Marked Men and the Mind Spiders.

The interview went well despite two factors: one, it was incredibly late by the time we talked--it was after the show yet Mark was incredibly patience and gracious, never hinting that he wanted to split.  Two, I kept thinking, Holy crow, it's the guy from the Marked Men and Mind Spiders!

----------------

Go Metric: Thanks for bearing with me. I’m a novice with this technology (recording on with my mp3 player). I’m like a cave man—I don’t understand fire but I appreciate it. And thanks for taking a couple of minutes to talk.

Mark Ryan: Yeah, man, no problem.

GM: I’ve have waited so long to see the Marked Men. I’ve been listening to those records for years. We actually met once in Tucson. (Sounds like a Johnny Cash line.)  You were playing with the Riverboat Gamblers. You guys played with the Knockout Pills at that old hotel.

MR: The Knockout Pills were a great band.

GM: I was touring with Todd Taylor at the time.

MR: Oh yeah, I remember it now.

GM: Todd had said, Not only are we going to do a reading in Tucson, but we’re going to a show: Knockout Pills and the Riverboat Gamblers, you’ll like these guys. You came up to him and you were like, Hey, Todd, here’s the new Marked Men record (On the Outside, Dirtnap Records, 2004 — being there for this handoff is, to me, akin to Joey Ramone giving a copy of Leave Home to Lester Bangs. Wish I’d framed it that way at the time).

MR: Yeah. (Politely, patiently nods along, waiting for me to arrive at something — anything — approaching a point. Despite the late hour I’m fully wound up and giddily talkative. It’s Mark Ryan for Bloch’s sake!)

GM: A few months later I was listening to that record all the time. Then Fix My Brain (Swami, 2006) came out. So after all these years I finally get to see the Marked Men. Obviously I was enamored with the show tonight. How would you rank tonight as a Marked Men show?

MR: Pretty good. It’s always amazing to have a shit ton of people screaming, yelling your lyrics.

GM: And punching out all those accents on the drums.

MR: There’s nothing else quite like that. Chicago’s always been a fun town for us to play. We’ve always enjoyed it. Even with our old band, the Reds, we came up here a lot. It’s been a long time building that.

GM: There hasn’t been a lot of Marked Men activity the past couple years. What led to this show? Is this part of a tour?

MR: We’re playing Chaos in Tejas. We played last year and that was really fun. Then right after that we played a couple shows in Sweden, which was really great. We decided to do it again this year (Chaos in Tejas) but we wanted to come back here and Minneapolis because those are some of our favorite places to go. It’s real hard because Jeff (Burke, guitar) lives in Japan and him being able to get off work is really difficult, trying to avoid earthquakes.

GM: Oh man, I’d forgotten he was living there. Wow. In the meantime you’ve started doing the Mind Spiders. I just got the full-length (Mind Spiders, Dirtnap, 2011), so I haven’t totally absorbed that but I’ve listened to the first EP (World’s Destroyed, Dirtnap, 2010) so many times. With my favorite bands and records I enjoy trying to figure out why I like them so much. Yet I haven’t been able to pinpoint it with either the Marked Men or the Mind Spiders.

MR: (Laughs)

GM: I’d like to run this by you: when I watch you play it seems really taxing physically and very intricate, very involved. When I listen to the records it’s like an outfielder snagging a fly ball, equally impressive but seemingly easy and nonchalant. Is this really simple stuff or really complex stuff or assembling simple pieces in a complex way?

MR: I don’t know how to answer that.

GM: I know, I gave you a five-part answer to the question. As a teacher I should know better.

MR: No, no. I guess we’ve always been into the rhythm of the way that we play guitar. I’ve been playing with Mike (Throneberry), the drummer, since I was 19 and I’m 36 now. He’s an exceptionally talented drummer and it’s worked on my rhythm, and over time we’ve developed the way that we work together and it’s kept gelling. It’s hard to explain. It’s the way you do the downstrokes on the guitar and pound it out. I guess coming from Denton (Texas) for years we didn’t have much of a following.

GM: The Reds or the Marked Men? Both?

MR: Initially, the Marked Men. We had good shows but it wasn’t anything great. It was just a matter of continuing to pound it out and make it better and better to get people to respond.

GM: Do you play drums?

MR: No, but whenever Jeff or I write songs we know what we want from the drums. We plan it out meticulously.

GM: You don’t make it easy on him (Mike) as a drummer. He could keep those same tempos with quarter notes, it would be a lot easier.  But it’s always eighth notes, always twice the work, twice the intensity.

MR: You’re right. We always used to joke around that if Mike wasn’t in pain or exhausted after the show then we weren’t successful.

GM: Drummer abuse, basically.

MR: But the thing is there’s something about Mike and his style. If you listen to bands from Denton they’re influenced by Mike. The drummers that are there now when they were younger they loved watching him. That’s part of the sound.

GM: He doesn’t do a lot of fills.

MR: He used to. We had to calm him down. It was too ADHD. Had to tell him to quit that shit. We used to let him go at it however he wanted to but we decided not to do that. (Speaking to other dude who has just come downstairs) You want in on this?

Unidentified dude: Just an old friend passing through. Just an old friend passing through.

MR: I’m still recovering from that feedback. Just about knocked me out.

GM: That’s ironic. Bands are usually saying that they can’t hear enough of themselves on stage. Going back to the Mind Spiders EP. I love how wide the sound is, how expansive, like a really wide, desert landscape.

MR: On the record I double a lot of the drums, it’s two drum kits. I like that Phil Spector big sound.

GM: Playing the same beat?

MR: Yeah, but I think it sounds cool. I write really stupidly simple songs and I try to make them sound good. I got really into that first Brian Eno record, Here Come the Warm Jets. The drums are doubled. That’s one of my favorite recordings. I’m kind of obsessed with that record. That’s what kind of spurred some of that one (Worlds Destroyed).

GM: I love that record — it’s the only Eno record I know — but I never would have connected those records. Eno's vocals are very prominent, very sweet.

MR: I tried to sing and carry melodies and things like that.

GM: Like I said, I’ve just started digging into the full-length (Mind Spiders), but it sounds really different. Is that just because I don’t know it well yet or…

MR: The Mind Spiders is just a recording project I started. It’s not really a band. It’s something I started when Jeff was leaving. I had all these other songs and I was doing things on my own. It’s just my way of seeing if I can try to pull something off—let me see if I can do this kind of song.

GM: It’s pretty great. Your role sounds almost like a conductor.

MR: Yeah, well, it’s more of a band now. I’ve started a band and I’ve started recording another record. It should be coming out at the end of this year (2011). I know it’s funny for someone from Chicago, but in Fort Worth, where I live, it snowed a lot in February and everything shut down for a week. I didn’t go anywhere. I just hung out at the house and worked on another record—a lot of it was done then.

GM: Actually, I'm just visiting Chicago. I’m from New York, but I know what you mean.  This winter has been miserable. That’s one of the reasons I made this trip.

MR: For us it was crazy. If we get just a little bit of snow nobody goes to work, schools shut down, so it gave me some vacation time.

GM: What do you do for work?

MR: I work with people with mental retardation and write behavior modification plans.

GM: I teach fifth grade, general education teacher. I don’t write plans like those, but I try to implement them for some of my kids.

MR: I work for a psychologist. I got my master’s degree and I work under his supervision and go to a lot of different places around the Dallas/Fort Worth/Denton area.

GM: I know different schools are on different places on the continuum…

MR: Oh, I don’t work with people in schools—group home or big facilities. That’s been my main work for years.

GM: That’s not easy work.

MR: I know you can relate.

GM: I was talking to someone about that earlier—it’s a tough time to be in education.

MR: It’s gotten worse in Texas, a lot of the budget cuts. It’s been intense. A lot of similar services have been cut, so I have to do just as much as I did before but with less time.

GM: Do you ever watch The Wire, the season where they focus on the local newspaper? “We’re going to do more with less.”

MR: I always think about that line whenever I think about this.

(Why didn’t I linger on this point longer? I drove right past a potentially fascinating moment in the conversation — one of my favorite musicians and my favorite dramatic TV show? Geez!)

GM: In our district it seems like the first place they cut is where people are the most vulnerable.

MR: I completely agree. It sucks, but it’s cool whenever you can make a good decision here and there. You can do some good things. I like it. It is wearing me out.

GM: How long have you been doing it?

MR: I started out as a direct care person in the facilities. Actually, Jeff and Mike did the same sort of work for years — you could do PRN work on call, as needed.

GM: PRN?

MR: It just means “as needed.” It’s a nursing term. We could work for a while, a bunch of shifts, and then take off and go on tour. I started doing that and then I met the psychologist I work for and I went on from there.

GM: Does your work ever find it’s way into your music?

MR: The song “Doctor Dan” (from On the Outside) that’s my boss. Good name. He’s a really good guy.

GM: That’s not how I think of the typical song about a boss.

MR: I just used his name, everyone calls him Dr. Dan. It’s not about him. It’s about someone being crazy and not wanting to go into the psych hospital.

GM: Any chance the Marked Men will tour again?

MR: No, I don’t think so. We all have projects that are going on. Jeff, since he’s been in Japan he’s recorded 20-30 songs but they’re all demo versions. He’s had a hard time getting them recorded properly. It’s hard to do over there. Also, the recent earthquake destroyed some of his recording equipment. He’s got a new band. They’ve been playing over there. And Joe’s been doing a new band and I’ve been doing the Mind Spiders.

GM: It’s weird when a favorite band breaks up. In the next band I want to hear echoes of that prior band but I’m also hoping for something new and different.

MR: I want it to be different.

GM: Are the Mind Spiders a band you’d tour with?

MR: I don’t think so. Everybody in the band is in other bands, so it’s more about the recording. We’ve got to do some cool stuff. We went up to the Atlanta Mess Around back in April. We got to play with the Testors. That was pretty amazing. It was original line up. They’re getting up to close to 60 now. This was crazy because it was the original band and they were spot on, everybody. The guitarist had white hair and looked like an old school teacher and they were talking shit to the crowd. It was great.

Paul Williams? Still Alive!!

by Gary Pig Gold

I first became aware of the man in 1970, as composer of what to this very day remains my absolute favorite Three Dog Night tune, “Out In The Country.”

Then, in the years to follow, that same man would somehow become downright ubiquitous upon the 25 living-color inches of the family RCA XL-100. On variety and game shows galore, on The Tonight Show of course (forty-eight times!), even trying to murder Police Woman Angie Dickinson. All as some form of mutant, leisure-suited hybrid of David Cassidy and adorable Cousin Oliver.  

Then, as did most pre-punk cultural icons in the immediate wake of that first Ramones album, Paul Williams seemed to vanish overnight from the audio/visual airwaves; a figment, perhaps, of our Top Forty, prime time past; an aberration, beloved as it may have been, from antiquated, tube-powered memory.

What defiantly remained however, losing not one single iota of their insidious appeal in all these decades since, was his string of perfectly crafted, instantly and forever recognized pure pop chestnuts – “We’ve Only Just Begun,” “Evergreen,” “Rainy Days and Mondays,” the Love Boat and Boy in the Plastic Bubble themes for example; need I cite any more? – which still have the innate power to bore deep within our craniums and keep us shimmying, boogieing, or at least grinning into infinity. Why, he even constructed the, um, “so close to terrible and yet somehow believable” songs for Ishtar’s dynamic Beatty and Hoffman duo: "It was one of the best jobs I've ever had in my life. I've never had more fun on a picture, but I've never worked harder." 

Fun and bubble boys aside though, it looked, and certainly sounded as if this wealth of utterly brilliant four-minute, five-chord monuments to the middle of the road were all that would remain of Paul Williams’ legacy; perhaps even his epitaph.

Until, that is, a man named Stephen Kessler arose.

A through-and-through true child of the Seventies (“I still get excited when I see the words Hungry Man TV Dinner!”) who was raised in the cathode shadow of Danny Partridge twenty-six feet from the Long Island Rail Road – and to this day unabashedly claims he always wanted to be Paul Williams – Stephen decided to go one giant step further than simply wondering where his idol went. He picked up a camera, assembled a film crew, and hit the asphalt in search of his “friend from the television.”

The result is a truly touching, yet at times emotionally gut-wrenching documentary that really could only be called Paul Williams: Still Alive, newly available on DVD from Virgil Films. In oh so many ways it is a story of fame from a “morning after” perspective, yes, but with a (gasp) happy ending. I mean, after all, we are talking about the man who taught Kermit how to find the “Rainbow Connection.”

And therein’s not only the rub, but the proverbial key to Still Alive’s impact and success as a film. Forgoing the typical confrontational guerilla style of a Michael Moore or TMZ, Kessler approaches his subject first with wonderment – at the 2006 “Phantompalooza” Festival in Winnipeg, one of only two cities in the world, the other bring Paris, where the Brian De Palma / Paul Williams epic Phantom Of The Paradise was a box office smashapalooza. But then we watch that wonder turn to curiosity, soon enough respect, and ultimately not so much empathy or even sympathy as an understanding with and obvious kinship for his subject matter. 

Equally as curious was Paul Williams’ sudden decision, after filming had already begun, to go ALL the way, cinematically and otherwise and bring Steve, with lens, totally into his life and world for nigh on five entire years. A world which in many ways, good and bad – mainly good, though – is much, much different today than it was back in those glory years spent collaborating with De Palma and The Muppets …or mired deep within the Battle for the Planet of the Apes for that matter. 

“We’ll make it The Paulie and Steve Show!” the former, in true Little Enos Burdette bravado, insisted after bonding with Kessler one day over garlic pepper squid at Thai House Express. In a “keep your enemies closer” mode, perhaps? Whatever the cases may be, there goes a newly emboldened Steve, following his subject backstage, eavesdropping on him checking e-mails and doing throat exercises from hotel hallways, and ultimately becoming a quite unwilling participant on Paul’s especially harrowing post-9/11 tour of the Philippines, which is indeed every bit as Apocalypse Now as it is “An Old Fashioned Love Song.” “Safe and scenic, safe and scenic,” the local promoter continually insists upon packing all involved onto a six-hour bus haul through the treacherous – especially according to U.S. State Department warnings – Mindanao jungle between gigs. But once safely back on a California golf course a few weeks later, for all his terror-fuelled troubles, Stephen is rewarded with an actual sleep-over chez Williams! That includes bed and breakfast. 

Then, later, the motherlode: Paul actually lets his chronicler loose in a storage locker filled with memorabilia including over 600 hours of VHS tape. Then lets him take home, and USE, anything he wants.

Stretching all the way back to Paul’s on-screen debut in 1965 as a twenty-four-year-old child actor alongside Jonathan Winters in The Loved One, that exhumed footage, as fascinating and kitschily coated as much of it may be, honestly never once manages to overwhelm or even upstage the sight of the renewed, revitalized 21st Century Williams. No, The Paulie and Steve Show more than holds its own against vintage clips from Bugsy Malone or even Baretta, such is the unmistakable, undeniable buddy-charm which “director” and “star” grow between them as Still Alive spins out its rollercoasting eighty-four minutes.

Cue “You and Me Against The World,” and fade to Bonus Footage.

P.S.: And if you haven’t gathered as much already, I’m most pleased to report our unflappable hero remains happy, healthy, and ultra-productive to this very day. Since 2009 Paul has guilelessly served as President and Chairman of the Board of ASCAP, keeps his own songwriting chops sharp (on the Scissor Sisters and Richard Barone, for example) while proudly keeping his goldies alive on stage (with Craig Ferguson just the other week), is at this moment co-writing a book based on, in his own careful words, “gratitude and trust” (“the two rails my choo-choo runs on”), continues the good fight to get Phantom Of The Paradise mounted at long last upon the Broadway stage, and graciously savors each and every sincere and loving “heart payment” he receives back from folks both known and unknown the world over – yes, even deep within the Filipino jungle – in recognition of his beautifully sculpted, musical lyrical body of work.

See? I told you this story has a happy ending! 

Or, as the man himself explains, “I didn’t have the best childhood, but I had the longest.” Words to remain Still Alive to, yessir, for lovers, dreamers, you and me.

Are You Receiving Me? #50 — Young Fresh Fellows

By Mike Faloon

Young Fresh Fellows
Tiempo de Lugo LP + CD
Yep Rec Records

Another Ten Reasons to Dig the latest Young Fresh Fellows record, Tiempo de Lugo:

 1) Tiempo de Lugo opens with this lyric: “All crumpled up like a highway wreck on the cold black floor of a desert discotheque” (from “Another Ten Reasons"). Pretty grim, eh? The narrator knows that his better half has ten reasons to split for every reason to stay, and yet he presses onward, ever onward. Despite a seemingly self-effacing metaphor, the Young Fresh Fellows (YFF) are in far finer shape than that desert car crash. 

2) The YFF write with equal parts humor and heartache. A lot of people have a distorted perception of the band’s humor angle; they peg the Fellows as a novelty band. In part, it’s a reaction to the band’s name. Fair enough, to some extent, on a limited surface level. In part such a reaction reflects the either/or thinking of the digital age. Republican or Democrat? PC or Mac? Serious band or funny band? We can’t peg you, Fellows. Thus, we deem you novelty!

Regardless, so many of my favorite performers — from Buck Owens to Boris the Sprinkler — balance both. I came of age in the ‘80s. Though I didn’t feel so at the time, I was pretty lucky. There were tons of “both” bands — Camper Van Beethoven, the Replacements, Scruffy the Cat. There were so many I could afford to pass on the lesser members of the pack (Dead Milkmen).

3) Kurt Bloch on guitar!

4) I love puzzling over the narrative to “Cleflo and Zizmor.” I had a theory even before I heard this song. The title characters sound like a pair of WWI-era immigrant anarchists.  Slavs or Pols, probably not of Italian descent.  Regardless, they're falsely accused, rounded up in the Palmer Raids, their story lost to the sands of time.  Except for those letters Zizmor sent from prison to some Kansas City broadsheet whose archives were wiped out in a suspect fire during the Hoover years. Turns out the song is about a doctor who advertises on the subway.

5) There is a treasure trove of wonderful phrases in the album’s lyrics. Here’s one from “So Many Electric Guitars”: “Some are not very proto punk.” The Fellows, and Scott McCaughey in particular, have a wonderful knack for redistricting language. They incorporate such a rich variety of words and phrases, many of which are associated with genres beyond the boundaries of typical rock lyrics—music criticism, short stories—and draw them into tunes both straight forward and ambiguous. 

6) Tiempo de Lugo is on LP! This is the first time since 1992’s Low Beat Time that I’ve enjoyed a new YFF disc on vinyl. All the ridicule I endured during the ‘90s and ‘00s for buying records and now the dang things are back, kind of.

7) There are six Tad contributions. Tad Hutchinson, that is, drummer, lyricist, artist. Those six cuts represent 50% of the songs on Tiempo de Lugo. That’s an historical high. (Or “a” historical high. It seems that changes are afoot re: which article to use in such cases. In the past month both my dad and my wife’s uncle have pointed out this transition. In both cases they did so with a hearty contempt for contemporary writers. I argued that spelling and grammar and language evolve. I think this is a good thing, but in the interest of establishing common ground I cited such lame newcomers to the lexicon as “blog” and “ear buds.”)

8) Nothing beats the sound of longtime pals sweating through a stack of new ‘60s styled pop and garage rock. Every time I get a new YFF record I think, Enjoy it, man, it’s their last. Hopefully they’ve found a lasting home at Yep Roc. (Then again what to make of the “guitars sticking out of an open casket” image on the back sleeve?)

9) The cover art is excellent. Looks great on a green t-shirt, too. Not shilling, just saying.

10) And at the end, after cycling the dozen tunes and getting ready for another lap, I’m left with a head scratcher: Who’s Jerry Marsdale? His name adorns the head of the kick drum on the back of the record.  He’s listed in the thank you’s.  Who is he is.

I found this on a blog called Seattle Pi: “They (YFF) continued with their intermittent jokes, a lot of which I don’t think I fully understood because they had some history to them. Jerry Marsdale took a jab at the band’s age by busting out an oversized calculator he pretended was a cellphone that he was calling David Duchovny of the 90s hit show ‘The X-Files.’” 

Then I emailed Scott McCaughey and asked about Jerry Marsdale: “Jerry Marsdale is just Tad I guess, or a fictional Tad, or a Tad drumming alter ego.  Who knows the way that guy thinks!”

11) After I let the above list site for awhile I went back to the album. Still a corker. Only change I’d make would be to move “A Fake Hello” back in the sequence. Seems too slow for the third cut on the album, especially after opening with the killer combo of “Another Ten Reasons” and “Tad’s Pad.” 

But that’s a quibble, a pick of the nit, one of those moves critics lapse into to justify praise of a worthy work—I want people to accept my celebration of this record, better mix in a criticism or two.  There's street cred to consider! 

Then I got over that nonsense and realized that “So Many Electric Guitars” is one of the finest songs Scott McCaughey’s ever penned. It’s got lyrics about rock and roll, baseball, and mortality.  Granted only 2/3 of those topics are actually stated in the lyrics. Undaunted I returned to the song repeatedly. I thought I had it figured out. I realized I didn’t. Scott McCaughey was kind enough to field a couple of my questions. I’ll note up front that he didn’t make fun of my theories. Nobleman of Edenbrook Forest, indeed.

Now the interview…

Go Metric: Is there anything to this theory about “So Many Electric Guitars”: the verses are about what becomes of old guitars. The chorus is about what becomes of old baseball stadiums, like the Seattle Kingdome. Finally, implicitly, the song is about what becomes of old(er) musicians?

Scott McCaughey: You’re probably giving me too much credit — not sure I thought about it that hard. It started simply with the thought of how many guitars are out there in the world, because in general, electric guitars don’t go anywhere to die. They just become cooler over the years — even crummy guitars, or one’s that are only cool for ironic reasons. This can also indeed happen to ballparks and musicians, although obviously not always the case!

GM: There’s a line in the chorus about “The Beach Boys, Clash, and Wings.” I’ve looked for connections among them. I’ve found none, come up blank. What am I missing?

SM: These are all bands that played there, in the generally woeful sounding Kingdome acoustics. I saw the Beach Boys, after a Mariners game, and the Clash, opening for the Who. Didn’t see the Wings show, it was before my time in Seattle. But it was captured for eternity as the filmed show from that tour. Why they picked the Dome I don’t know. The chorus (to “So Many Electric Guitars”) about the Kingdome only relates to the rest of the song in my own mind — thinking about the loud guitars that were played there, often somewhat ineffectually. The connection between the verses and the chorus is tenuous at best, but in my impressionistic thought patterns it felt right for the song.

GM: The lyrics to “So Many Electric Guitars.” I’ve puzzled out most of them, but can you fill in the gaps? (Note: I had most of the words right. I’m not such as cad as to ask a dude to type out his song lyrics!)

So many electric guitars
More than all the derelict cars
And even the homeless few
String 'em up, it's waiting for you

Somewhere there's a teenage band
Somewhere in Grow A Moustache land
Getting a trash can Trashmen tone
From a new Korean Epiphone

Where did the Kingdome go?
Where did the Kingdome go?
When they blew it all to smithereens
For the Beach Boys, Clash, and Wings

Some guitars look like space junk
Some guitars are not very proto punk
Green dazzlers, Old Black in a hearse
White Falcons and Tobacco Sunburst

So many electric guitars
Where's the electric guitar junkyard
They don't die when they get old
No, they turn into solid gold

Chorus

Chorus

When the dust settled in the ground
did the echoes finally drown
The big boss gold top sound

So many electric guitars

 

 

How Literature Saved My Life – David Shields

“What I’m a big believer in is talking about everything until you’re blue in the face.” — David Shields

How Literature Saved My Life is a book length essay, the form for which Shields passionately argued in his last book, Reality Hunger. Literature doesn’t draw a line in the genre sandbox quite like its predecessor, but it’s a compelling companion piece. (It also has insights into reactions to Reality Hunger. See chapter five.)

One of the book’s blurbs is from a writer named Whitney Otto. “Reading How Literature Saved My Life” is like getting to listen in on a great, smart, provocative conversation.” I agree but I’d tweak Otto’s blurb. Reading How Literature Saved My Life is like taking part in that great, smart, provocative conversation. Shields traffics in high brow discourse but does so in clear accessible language (in that sense he reminds me of Neil Postman or Kurt Vonnegut). He wants people involved in the discussion. He also clears that most difficult of challenges for the essayist, writing about himself in a manner so personal that readers, or this one at least, reflect on themselves as they sift through the details of Shields’ experience.  It’s all about him on the page but it’s all about you in the end.

As the title suggests How Literature Saved My Life is largely about Shields’ favorite reads and the ways in which they’ve impacted him. (Chapter six, “All Great Books Wind Up with the Writer Getting His Teeth Bashed In,” contains a great list called “55 Works I Swear By.”) What I found most interesting about the book is how broadly he defines literature. Along with books he weaves in emails, a college girlfriend’s diary, a note written in the back of a library book he’s checked out Delilah’s call-in radio show, and movies ranging from Spiderman to Laura. With such a wide range “texts” maybe How Language Saved My Life would be more apt.

— Mike Faloon

David Shields will appear at McNally Jackson (Feb. 28) and Book Court (March 3).