The North Water: A Novel

Read this book.

You won’t know half the words, you’ll sometimes keep reading even though you didn’t quite understand what just happened, but you’ll be riveted nonetheless, I couldn’t wait to get back into my room in T.O. to dive into it, and I had trouble turning out the light, it’s that kind of book.

The kind on paper you won’t be interested in. A nineteenth century whaling story. But in so many ways contemporary. Yet antiquated. I remember in Tahiti hearing the story of the Bounty, and the professor saying there was no way the islanders wanted to be with the sailors, because the mariners hadn’t taken a shower in months, wore the same clothes, this was an era before hygiene was prominent.

So you might be a tad grossed out, but that’s kind of the appeal.

So what is “The North Water”?

On one hand, it’s the story of sailing into icy waters long before electronic navigation, when you were fighting the elements for very little pay, assuming you’re a crew member.

And the protagonist is a surgeon with a backstory.

And if it were just about the adventure, that’d be enough.

But as you continue to read, you realize it’s a thriller.

Now this book came out two years ago. I passed it by until I got an e-mail from an agent telling me he was strangely addicted. And then I read a story in the “Times” talking about the phenomenon.

You see the thing with books is you have to read them. And not that many people do. So it can take a long time for them to percolate in the marketplace, especially if they’re not typical, heavily-promoted genre books.

This is what reading is supposed to be. An entry into a world where you’re disconnected from everyday life and intrigued by what you’re encountering.

I’m not gonna give you any more plot, because first and foremost I read for plot, and if someone gives it to me in advance, why bother?

And I won’t guarantee all of you will like this.

And it takes a while for them to get on the ship.

But if you stick with it, you’ll enjoy the journey.

P.S. Now I’m in the midst of Curtis Sittenfeld’s “You Think It, I’ll Say It,” and I read the title story on my way back from Toronto and I can’t stop thinking about it. The book is a collection of short stories, which is frequently an ungratifying format, but Sittenfeld’s writing cuts like butter and there’s so much truth and humanity in the stories you won’t want them to end. This is the kind of writing that makes me feel connected, that someone understands me, the kind that made me want to be a writer.

He sells 600,000 CDs a month at KFC.

Lillywhite lives in Jakarta, as in Indonesia, as in most Americans have no clue, even though there are 200 million people there.

He came over to produce a record by Noah. Heard of them? I thought not, and ended up staying, after paying rent for a year, which was required.

And after arriving, he was approached by the local KFC licensee.

You see in Indonesia, pork is the thing, in this predominantly Muslim country, beef is taboo, and KFC is a luxury restaurant. Well, kinda like an Olive Garden, with some local spices, not just the usual Kentucky Fried flavors, and with every meal, you get a CD. Really.

So Lillywhite signed on, producing local acts, and now, even though there are only ten choices per store, and some of them are from the majors, Lillywhite and KFC dominate the market. There are only 100,000 other CDs sold in the country a month. Sure, streaming is coming, but for now, KFC RULES!

So Lillywhite played one of his productions. There’s a local sound, it started off with Indian influences and has evolved over the years and the result…this was a hit, even in America, if it got a push. That’s today’s market, sans push it doesn’t matter how great you are, you’ll languish in the marketplace.

And Ralph remarked if only English-speaking acts recorded a song or even a verse in the local language, they’d be stars, but few want to go there, why? It’s a worldwide business, the person who realizes this and maximizes their reach maximizes their dollars.

And contrary to preconception, of a man who’s a Commander of the British Empire, who’s sat behind so many consoles, Lillywhite is a bundle of energy and stories and truth, he’ll talk a little shit, you could listen to him FOREVER!

He was famous for his big drum sound. But after employing it on Marshall Crenshaw’s “Field Day,” he realized it was a mistake, that it wasn’t in service to the music, even though Marshall likes the album. You’ve got to be in service to the music, you’ve got to evolve.

But you’ve got to have hits to play. And after having one he leveraged himself out of the punk world, you don’t want to get caught in a niche.

And after asking Elton John who the hot producer was, Mick Jagger called Steve and Lillywhite produced a Stones album, which he calls the band’s worst ever…until the next one. Says the music keeps Keith alive, others get caught up in the dope and lose focus.

And Jared Leto is a perfectionist with Thirty Seconds To Mars. He literally sang a line a hundred times and was still unsatisfied. But then he strummed a guitar and sang in the lounge and Steve said Jared thinks too much, you’ve got to let it flow.

As for today’s music, he laments it’s not done all in the same room and is perfected by machines. He believes it’s best when the musicians can see each other and play off each other, like his client Phish.

Who he produced after working with Dave Matthews. He became the jam band guy.

As for his long history with U2…

Bono was unsatisfied with the last single so he farmed it out to every famous mixer on the planet, but after going back and forth with Lillywhite via WhatsApp all night in Jakarta, it’s Steve’s mix that survives, that is the single.

As for producing bands, he focuses on the worst players, the ones who are anxious they won’t live up to what the writers’ wants, he lifts them up.

And as far as left field ringers…

He was in Paris cutting the last Talking Heads album, and they called in a locally famous African musician, but he was late, and they thought the non-English speaking messenger was the player and sat him down on a stool with an axe and recorded him until the real player arrived.

Lillywhite’s full of stories like this. And he’s not just living in the past, he’s still playing.

It was funny, educational and EXHILARATING!

P.S. I caught half an hour of Marcie Allen’s interview before I had to bolt for the airport. The sponsorship queen said a couple of interesting things. Like tour sponsorship is dead. It’s about the whole enchilada. The brands want to be involved in the album release too, everything, to garner maximum value. And her pet peeve is companies who only look at the data, who won’t play unless you have a certain number of Instagram followers, whereas Marcie believes it’s all about meaningful connection, some clients might post infrequently, but when they do, engagement is through the roof. And she believes the future of sponsorship is artist-curated festivals, she worked with Dave Grohl on CalJam, she said sponsors get lost in the smorgasbord festivals with names bigger than the acts.

She was driving a BMW X4.

That’s an expensive car. Let me look it up online. It STARTS at 50k. Why is its owner driving Uber?

Well, maybe it’s not the person’s car. That’s right, I wasn’t sure whether it was a male or female, the name was VINEETA. But last night, the driver rented his new Audi Quattro to drive, it cost him $40 for the day. But an X4?

It was her car, it was the first thing I asked Vineeta, after I got into the front seat.

Sometimes I don’t want to ride in the back, I didn’t want to look at my phone, do any business, although Paul Anka did call while we were en route and WAZE was barking directions and I was disoriented and I’m worried I didn’t perform appropriately, but basically I wanted to experience the vista.

But the woman was dignified and well-dressed, what was going on?

Well, she was from India, she’d been here fifteen years. That’s what you have to understand about Toronto, supposedly it has the most ethnicities of any city in the world, if you’re a racist, it’s not the place to be, especially since many people of color have been here for generations.

So why was she driving?

Her kids were in school.

Did she need the money or the entertainment?

She was trying to keep herself busy. She’s got a degree in finance, but she has to take her son to swim practice every afternoon and it’s hard to hold down a full-time job. Her husband works in software. He’s a muckety-muck, but I didn’t learn that until I found out…

It was an arranged marriage.

Well, not exactly, they were on that road, they could see that ending, so they picked each other.

I asked her, sensitively, whether if she had to do it all over again…

DEFINITELY, she loved her husband.

But India was so culturally different. It’s about family, and extended family, and her parents approved of his parents, but she’s having a hard time adjusting to here, where everybody’s in their own silo.

But she would never move back, she didn’t think her kids would tolerate it, even though they visit on vacation regularly.

Oh, did I tell you they got married at SIXTEEN??!!!

Eeegads!

Her husband’s father was a player in India, they moved to Singapore for a couple of years and then here.

Does she fit in?

Well, her kids, thirteen and seven, keep bossing them around, telling them what’s up, how to live, and this would NEVER happen in India, you do what your parents say.

But she’s experienced no racism, which is kind of astounding, with that skin color and name in the United States…

Where an Indian woman in my doctor’s office dates a white man but has not and will not tell her parents, who live up north.

Vineeta said her parents would be okay with her marrying a white man, it’s just that it would NEVER HAPPEN!

And her driving was somewhat hesitant, and she wasn’t that familiar with WAZE, but she told me she’d been driving Uber for three months.

Ah, the stories in the city.

“I watch what I eat and work out… I’ve been on Jenny Craig more than Mr. Craig.”

Paul Anka

Can you say that in the #MeToo era?

Speaking of eating, I forgot to tell you about the salt cod latkes.

We had lunch at Drake One Fifty, a jumping place, and when I saw the latkes on the menu…

I thought you had to be Jewish, your mother made them during Hanukkah, you waited for them all year. Latkes are potato pancakes, delivery systems for the applesauce and sour cream that accompany them. And my mom made them in the electric frying pan, a hit back in the sixties, just like Mr. Anka’s records.

They’re crunchy, and the sour cream adds smoothness and the applesauce adds sweetness and the cod…

I’ve never heard of cod in latkes before, must be a Great White North thing. You know, the land of Newfoundland and ice fishing and…I don’t really know, but I do know the cod are gone from the Cape, as in CAPE COD, but maybe their remaining relatives have moved to colder waters up north, but ANYWAY, these salt cod latkes were DELECTABLE! The cod added a bit of sourness to the concoction, I think I’ll eat them eight days a week!

Anyway, tonight I went to the Canadian Hall of Fame dinner.

Which is kind of funny, because if you’re not from Canada, it doesn’t quite add up. There was this dj from Montreal, which you pronounce “MUN-treal,” for those south of the border, and he worked at CHOM for forty years. Which made him seem old, until I realized I was already out of college, where we dialed in the station, when he signed on, which makes ME really old.

And my generation…

Music was everything, we had to be in the business.

Arcade Fire got the Slaight philanthropy award, which Gary Slaight gave and introduced, and you may not know he made a billion when he sold the family’s radio chain, which his dad started from scratch. That’s how much money used to be in the music business. We Ubered over to the hall, and I was thinking…what’s gonna happen to radio when we’re no longer behind the wheel? Kaput I tell you, terrestrial dies, it’s all about what’s on your phone.

And speaking of phones, I’m in the hall and I realize…

That’s what you’ve got to beat, that’s the new metric, ARE YOU BETTER THAN WHAT’S ON MY PHONE?

If not, I’m gonna surf, and don’t give me that crap about putting it down, you’re just not good enough. Go listen to your CDs, you’re living in the past. The phone is personalized, you can get that hit of dopamine any time you want, so if you’re not getting it from the stage…

So the Barenaked Ladies performed. And what I love about that act is their sense of humor. The problem with having hits in the past is too often the acts are stuck in the past, afraid to acknowledge time has changed. But it has, and Ed Robertson reflected upon now.

But the best musical performance, other than the one by Mr. Anka, was by the Pursuit of Happiness. Yes, they did “I’m An Adult Now.”

Which they truly are.

First and foremost, they were really tight, seamless. You know that wall of guitar sound. And did you know a woman was one of the guitar players? Yup, way before her #MeToo time. And Moe Berg looks the same, except for some lines in his face, he’s an artist. Yup, the oldsters couldn’t help themselves, this was all they could be. Which means they still are, they’re not working for the bank.

And it’s the anti-hip-hop all we white boys used to like.

Thirty two years ago.

And the lyrics about being an adult now…

We’re sixty, not twenty, it’s mind-bending. We were there, and now we’re here. And the sound is fresh and ancient at the same time.

Kinda like Paul Anka.

Let’s be honest, this was an insider affair. People talked through performances, it’s hard to gain attention, but when Mr. Anka took the stage…

Michael Buble introduced him, well, because of the jokes, the sense of humor, you’re entitled to a personality.

But then Paul Anka…

TOOK US TO VEGAS!

It was cheesy and incredible all at the same time. He was a progenitor, and he’s still STANDING!

Yup, he gives his speech, which has got some laugh lines, i.e. the above, but when he was through he took the mic and…

HE DID IT HIS WAY!

Come on, this is a private gig, not for TV, evanescent. But Paul came with a full band, even a saxophone player. It was slick, the production levitated the whole room. It’s like we were earthbound previously, but now were jetted into outer space.

So he’s singing “My Way” and…

It still sounds like “My Way,” he’s seventy six, but he can still deliver.

And he’s elongating notes, getting us to sing along, doing false endings, and you can’t help but be drawn in, get in the spaceship with him.

This is the guy who predated the Beatles, who should have been wiped from the map, but he clawed his way back, not only by performing, but writing, forget “The Tonight Show,” he co-wrote “This Is It” with Michael Jackson!

Yes, he’s a hustler.

But, it’s like finding an aged relic, which has been alive, but out of sight. You remember that Vegas sound, before Celine, who Paul worked with, and Britney took over. When you wore a tux and you thrilled the graybeards who grew up with you, you made them young once again.

That’s what Anka did…

AND WE LOVED IT!