Books
I read two books in two days. Each was unputdownable in its own way.
The first was “Normal People” by Sally Rooney. She was heavily hyped in the “New Yorker” about a month ago, so I read her first book, 2017’s “Conversations With Friends,” and Daniel Glass sent me her second, “Normal People,” from Claridge’s in London, since it is unavailable in the States until April. I wonder if that’s because they’re gonna change it, eliminate the Britishisms. And speaking of Britishisms, you MUST read the story about Dan Mallory in the “New Yorker,” they’ve got a soft paywall and the article is long but it’s all about duplicity. I might be the only person who didn’t love his book “The Woman in the Window,” written under the nom de plume A.J. Finn, then again, did Mallory/A.J. Finn write the book at all? This is a funny world we live in, where facts hide in plain sight but untruths rule because nobody checks them. Kinda like the “Times” expose on Trump’s taxes. The Grey Lady admitted it had been snookered, had never done the research. And here’s the point where I mention Maureen Dowd’s piece on Michael Jackson today, she’s being inundated with naysayers, saying MJ is pure and the HBO doc is heresy. But that’s the world we now live in, one where facts don’t matter and it’s about what team you’re on.
Anyway, I was riveted by “Normal People” until the relationship…
Let’s just say it got a bit unbelievable. But Rooney does capture the ethos of the millennials. She speaks in today’s language, she gets the angst right, and I’d be surprised if it’s not thinly-veiled autobiography, kinda like Pam Houston’s “Cowboys Are My Weakness,” which was my second favorite book of the nineties, which is why I’m now reading her “Deep Creek,” which is non-fiction. And I was yearning for story, for fiction, which is why I interrupted my reading of “Deep Creek” with “Normal People,” but the truth is I think Houston is a better writer than Rooney, she’s a bit more honest even though her time has passed.
Kinda like that of John Simon.
He tracked me down months ago to see if I’d read his memoir, “Truth, Lies & Hearsay.” And I was interested, because of his credits, but he kinda disappeared, and blamed it all on techno-ignorance, but his book finally arrived and I read it in a matter of hours, riveted, because of the story.
You see Simon’s name was in the credits.
And I figured he was another puffed-up oldster, smoking a pipe and living on the fumes of yesteryear.
But that is not the case. Simon is vibrant and alive. Irreverent. His book reads like a long conversation late at night.
And he tells you how he made that Big Brother “live” album, and those first two Band albums too.
If you were around, if those records mean much to you, you’ll eat this up.
Now this is a self-published book with some mistakes, but the story shines through. Of a guy from Norwalk, Connecticut who used creativity to get ahead. That’s how he got into Princeton, based on the musical he created in high school.
You see first and foremost Simon is a musician.
And he’s old. After graduating from college he got a gig at Columbia Records pre-Beatles, and he started producing before the youthquake hit. He’d record Original Cast Albums on Sunday and they’d be shipped on Tuesday.
And then he fell in with Albert Grossman…
Well, after working with the Cyrkle and Simon & Garfunkel.
We need a definitive bio on Grossman. Without him, Dylan is not a legend, Peter, Paul & Mary don’t exist, but the acts get all the credit and the manager is forgotten. And Simon hints that Grossman loved money more than truth, but Albert made things happen.
But when he died and royalties came from Capitol instead of Bearsville, Simon was cut out. That’s right, he doesn’t get paid on those Band albums. This was back before acts were savvy, when the business was developing.
Simon pins it to the Beatles and electric guitars and multi-track recording.
Everybody picked up an axe. The technology let you experiment.
That’s what’s going on with streaming today. You can release as much or as little as you want to whenever you want to. Meanwhile, acts with old mind-sets are still releasing an album to play into the hands of print and radio which mean so much less than ever before.
So if you want to know how those Band records were made…
This is the best explanation I’ve found. Because Simon was there and the writing is not dry.
And when his moment is past, Simon takes a gig playing the piano in a restaurant.
That’s entertainment fame. It’s not linear. Your moment passes, and then you’re forgotten, or playing your old hits forever.
Now I’m gonna finish Houston’s book.
And I’m wondering whether I should get out, engage more. Watch television. Be part of the conversation.
Then again, Simon says he never liked to go out to hear live music, unless he was working on it. Used to be an A&R guy was the producer, now he’s a guy telling you to make it more commercial and keep it under budget.
And I really don’t expect anybody who wasn’t there to care.
But if you were…
“Deep Creek: Finding Hope in the High Country”
“Truth, Lies & Hearsay: A Memoir Of A Musical Life In & Out Of Rock And Roll”
