Richard Riegel and I recently exchanged some thoughts via e-mail on Mark Shipper’s classic novel, Paperback Writer.

From: Scott Woods
Date: Wednesday, September 19, 2007
To: Richard Riegel
Subject: Paperback Writer (I)

Hi Richard:

Thanks for agreeing to chat with me about Paperback Writer. I’m interested to hear what you have to say about the book because you mentioned in your rockcritics interview what a big fan you were of its author, Mark Shipper. I’ll quote what you said in its entirety because it actually fills in a few details of this mysterious fellow you referred to [in an earlier e-mail] as the “J.D. Salinger of rockwriting”–in fact, I bet it’s the most detailed thing anyone’s ever written about the guy.

“A rockwriter who was as influential upon me as Lester Bangs early on, but who’s barely known now, since he left the field, was Mark Shipper–his Flash fanzine of 1972, which celebrated bargain bins and his (and Teresa’s) beloved Paul Revere & The Raiders, and brilliantly ridiculed all sorts of rockstar/rockcrit pretensions, was a major major inspiration to me that year. His later Paperback Writer and How To Be Ecstatically Happy 24 Hours A Day For The Rest Of Your Life books were just the kind of satires I would like to have done myself, if I’d had more time. Unfortunately Shipper vanished from the rockwriting scene in the early ’80s, but I still revere (so to speak) the sarcritic impulse he gave me back in the day.”

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Last night I got into an interesting back-and-forth with my friend Matt on Facebook about Roger Ebert. Matt was arguing that Ebert wasn’t a “discerning (read: critical)” critic, which he later elaborated on by saying that he “gives positive reviews to a lot of dreck”; also, because “he has a sliding scale that reviews films relative to the rest of their genre”; also, because (and I didn’t know this) “he gave Godfather III a better review than Godfather II.”

I countered by saying that Ebert was a “generous” critic, an adjective I had to try twice to flesh out, as it just sort of came to (and made sense to) me without putting much thought into what it actually meant. Here’s me fumbling around for an explanation:

1. “Granted, [Ebert] maybe comes across a little soft on TV, but I prefer to think of that as ‘generosity,’ which is something I never take for granted in a critic–someone who can see beyond the obvious. (For instance, I think he’s right in placing so much emphasis on actor’s looks; it’s an essential part of movies, and most critics are too ashamed to admit it.)”
2. “I don’t really explain ‘generosity’ well: Ebert’s the sort of critic that is willing to acknowledge the good stuff you often get in bad movies. So, by pointing out something that works in an otherwise negligible movie (a particular performance, say, or some of the camera work–whatever), he may come across as not all that ‘discerning,’ or perhaps too easy, but in fact, I’d say he’s being more discerning. He’s digging further into the movie and looking beyond what is just plainly lousy about it. So he ends up sometimes saying positive things about second rate movies–but I don’t think that’s all he does, he also acknowledges what’s bad. “

To be honest, this was one of those arguments in which we were both probably over our heads a little. I don’t think either of us has actually read enough of Ebert to talk knowledgeably enough about him as a critic, though I’ve read enough of him to at least argue that you don’t really get the best of Ebert on TV, and that the Thumbs-Up/Thumbs-Down thing is the most meaningless and unfortunate aspect of that program (reducing critical judgments to grades is one thing; reducing them to either-or choices is ridiculous).

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Here are ten music books sitting on my shelf–some have been there for years–that I’m currently contemplating reading (or skimming really hard) so I can write them up and add them to the rockcritics bookshelf. There’s no way I’ll get through most of these anytime soon, so I clearly need to prioritize. Anyone have any thoughts about any of these? Which (if any) of these are worth spending time with? Which (if any) intrigue you most?

• Twenty Minute Fandangos and Forever Changes: A Rock Bazaar - 1971 collection edited by Jonathan Eisen (who also edited the two Age of Rock collections), feat. R. Meltzer, Sandy Pearlman, Bud Scoppa, Danny Fields, and a bunch of people I’ve never heard of. True to its era, I honestly can’t tell if at least half this book is a joke.
• H.L. Mencken on Music - Anthology, mostly about classical though with a few things, it appears, on jazz as well. I know about and am interested in Mencken, but I’m not familiar with his writing. Maybe a collection of his music criticism isn’t really the place to start?
• The Encyclopaedia of Classic 80s Pop, Daniel Blythe - Bought a remaindered copy at Indigo recently. The “classic 80s” (the MTV ’80s) right now don’t interest me a whole lot, but I flipped through some of this and the writing seemed, at first glance, cheeky. Which I assume would work in this book’s favour, but maybe not.
• This is Uncool: The 500 Greatest Singles Since Punk and Disco, Gary Mulholland - Purchased in the same cheapie bin as the Blythe book. British response to Marsh’s singles collection by a guy who’s 20 years younger and who really likes Madness and the Jam.
• Starlust: The Secret Fantasies of Fans, Fred and Judy Vermorel - This collection of fan talk has a reputation among more sociologically-minded critics. Everytime I’ve flipped through it, I can’t imagine the thought of reading the entire thing–it strikes me as an interesting article stretched into a book. Perhaps I’m missing some particular subtlety.
• The 20th Century’s Greatest Hits, Paul Williams - Another list book, this one from the founder of Crawdaddy! (Exclamation is part of that mag’s title and does not necessarily reflect my interest in this!)
• Will Pop Eat Itself, Jeremy J. Beadle - Actually, I read this years ago, liked it enough to write the author a letter, and now can barely remember a single detail. I think I’ll need to be in the mood for some KLF and Colourbox before I delve in.
• Vital Signs, Ian Penman - Highly regarded UK music critic, but I don’t think music dominates this collection. Introduction by Julie Burchill.
• Getting It On: The Clothing of Rock ‘n’ Roll, Mablen Jones - I’ve always just assumed this is either a pile of dog-doo or a secret hidden treasure; it’s certainly an open field of study. A little hard to see past the opening notes on the inner cover: “You can love rock ‘n’ roll. You can hate rock ‘n’ roll. But you cannot escape rock ‘n’ roll.”
• England’s Mine, Michael Bracewell - It looks really pretentious, which I suspect is maybe what’s good about it.

Apparently, some people are having issues accessing this site, and it seems to be (potentially) because of the YouTubes I’ve been posting. Not sure if this is a problem specific to wordpress or if it’s related only to certain browsers, but for now I’ve removed the images from those posts and provided direct links to YT instead.

If anyone out there is still experiencing issues reading stuff on here, please let me know, either through e-mail or in the comments box. We’ll be working out the kinks in this new format for a while, I suspect.

This one dates back two and a half years to Stylus, which features Creem quotes about Rock Criticism from 20 years before that. It turns out people were just as curmudgeonly about it back then. Only within the pages of Creem it’s more hilarious. Do look back, won’t you?

http://stylusmagazine.com/turntable/2005/02/13/some-excerpts-from-creem-magazine-february-1986/

Two clips of various directors and critics discussing the auteur theory. Featuring Robert Mitchum, Frank Capra, Pauline Kael, John Frankenheimer, Peter Biskind, Peter Bogdanovich, Elwy Yost, et al. A fairly intelligently edited piece (cf. the back and forth sequence between Capra and Phillip Dunne), though no strong critical proponents of auteurism could apparently be bothered to chime in: the closest you get to Andrew Sarris is a dazzling shot of his book!

File under “Lightly Likable.”

• Part 1
• Part 2

More specifically, have the first two ever eclipsed your attention to or hampered productivity level with the latter?

The New Yorker’s recent decision to print the lyrics to an upcoming Joni Mitchell song (”Bad Dreams Are Good”) and bill it as “poetry” inspires some lively skewering online…

• In Oy Canada Rickey Wright notes: “If this all weren’t so carefully, if not well, wrought, it could serve as a parody of any number of folkie platitudes. (Ask me about my all-time favorite, ‘Virginia Woolf’ by Indigo Girls, which assures its heroine that ‘you weathered the storm of cruel mortality.’ No she didn’t. She died.) As it is, Mitchell is working a whole other plane of awfulness…”
• Meanwhile, the Slog (in-house blog for Seattle’s The Stranger) points the finger back at the New Yorker’s new poetry editor: “Yeah, but Paul Muldoon RULES. He’s like some kind of freaky scientist. The only way something like the Joni Mitchell, uh, ‘poem’, would be published under him is as some kind of performance art gesture. Which maybe it was anyway. Hmm. Nah…”
• A chat board in metafilter entitled, “What is Poetry, and Does it Pay?” inspires a lively back and forth: “[Joni]’s curmudgeonly, she’s self-important, she’s not released a good album in close to 30 years, and I’d love to know what William Shawn would have thought of the New Yorker publishing free verse from the Proud Poetess of Fort Macleod… But I’d still take bad poetry from Joni Mitchell over most of the other content of the New Yorker.”

If models want to act and actors want to be musicians, then what do musicians want to be? In the case of the Lancourt twins, Ansley and Branwyn, the answer is everything.

Starting their career at a tender age, with a record contract and national showcases straight out of college, they saw some major label indie fame and got kicked around fairly early, too.

It’s okay, almost. They lived to tell about it and have since moved on, adding other mediums of expression. Cartoons, critiques, short stories, interviews and a blog can be found at their year-old site, Walrus Comix.

Anyone who goes there will be pleasantly surprised that they have kindred spirits in the esoteric characters that comprise the comic section (Walrus, the cynic; Buddy his more idealistic pal). And commentary from the young artists themselves.

Angry about America’s lack of culture, downward spiraling mentality and general malaise? You’ve got a friend in this site. In fact you may read sentiments that are your own or wish you would hear more from people in positions of power.

Why not go there now and embrace the blue cheer?

http://www.walruscomix.com

I swear I’m not trying to turn this into YouTube central, but some of these clips are irresistible. David Aron in the comments box for the Ben Fong-Torres post a few days ago pointed me to another early ’70s gem from his YouTube channel: Ralph J. Gleason. In the first clip Gleason talks briefly about the “effect on American society of rock ‘n’ roll”; in the second clip he talks briefly about drugs.

• Part 1
• Part 2

[David notes that the interviews on his YouTube channel are "from a 4 part Danish documentary on the American counter culture revolution aired in Europe in the early 70’s."]