Xgau Sez: July, 2024

Getting Kinks-y, The Insect Trust, Alejo Carpentier, unexplored quiddities, underrateds & one-offs, and jazz for dinner.

Sorry for delving into the past, but I would like to know your thoughts about The Kinks. I know you adore Face To Face  and like(d) Arthur (A-).  But your thoughts about Face To Face and Village Green seem elusive. I know you called Village “the best of the year, so far” in an April 10, 1969 column and denigrated Something Else as “impersonal artsiness” in the same column. Perhaps you have given them no further thought. But if you care to clarify, I’d be most appreciative. — Ted Raikin, Metuchen, New Jersey

Please do not take too literally thoughts I had churning out an all-nighter, one of my very first Voice columns as I recall, at a time when few were aware that the Kinks did anything worth their while after “You Really Got Me,” the divine “Waterloo Sunset” included. In late March when I was writing I greatly admired and probably overrated Village Green. On the other hand, they were the first band I saw live—in Detroit, with a woman I remember warmly who had almost no idea who they were—after breaking up with Ellen Willis, and as I recall were fun enough although I was in no condition to judge. As for Something Else, I only own it on vinyl and doubt I’ve played it in 50 years, though I also would guess I’d enjoy it if I ever did. You obviously love the Kinks and have every right to, although I found most of their post-‘73 output pretty wan (as I recalled and then double-checked in the first CG book). For me they were a pretty darn good band for seven-eight years who wrote one of the most beautiful songs in the English language. Were a guest to request them I’d pull something out, vinyl perhaps included. 

Thanks again for your review of The Insect Trust’s Hoboken Saturday Night, and of course, your liner notes for the reissue. I didn’t see a review of the band’s self-titled debut in your archives. I won'‘t ask you to revisit that album or prepare a letter grade, but I’m wondering what you remember about the debut, and how it compared/contrasted. — Andrew Hamlin, Seattle

Decided I wouldn’t mind hearing it again and pulled out my vinyl but ended up streaming it on Spotify. Released 1968, hence pre-Consumer Guide. Immediately sounded and still sounds as I write like a certain A minus and maybe a full A. Lacks the novelty brilliance of Hoboken Saturday Night, not to mention the little kids singing about “busketty worms” or the Moondog cameo. Also sounds like nothing else—eccentrically and even willfully jazz-inflected folk/blues-rock with a gentler groove. Check it out.

Hi, Robert. Latin America has produced many left-wing political novelists, and you have mentioned many of their novels. I remember you recommended Alejo Carpentier’s novel Reasons of State, and praised Roberto Bolaño’s The Savage Detectives, but you seem to have forgotten the works of the great Latin American novelist Gabriel García Márquez. Márquez’s literary works such as One Hundred Years of Solitude have a profound influence on third world novelists. Do you think Márquez’s novels can be ranked above Carpentier and Bolaño? — JJR, Manila, Philippines

I don’t know that I’d rank One Hundred Years of Solitude over Marquez’s gorgeous Love in the Time of Cholera myself. I also liked his Chronicle of a Death Foretold quite a bit. He’s obviously great. But Reasons of State remains a relatively obscure motherfucker for sure.

I’m interested in knowing more about the symbiosis between what you may call a “biographical correlation” and the actual musical quality of a record. Do boring correlations dim its effect and dull its sonic innovations? Do forgettable melodies and an overall lack of refinement, vigor, or humor decrease your interest in the person or persona behind them? And knowing very well that persona could be a false reflection of the person, whether by deception or projection, how do you make sure that these correlations still matter, even when they’re falsities? Furthermore, I’m curious to know if you read a novel I sent you almost two years ago when I had a fan fever during the pandemic and squarely decided upon it as a suitable birthday gift, steered by your adoration for the American naturalist novel Sister Carrie and knowledge of Bohemia. I was so affected by it, yet dismayed at how many people perceive the Goncourt Brothers as undercooked Zolas. — Omar Qutteineh, Amman, Jordan

All these quiddities are there for the exploration, but only by someone who’s really moved or perturbed by said quiddities—someone younger than me, for instance, but not you. As for the novel you sent, I began it twice and never got to page 50. More quiddities for you.

Hi Bob, hope you and your family are well. Two questions about what’s now a near 50-year oeuvre: Is there an artist whose reviews you look back on and think, gee, I underrated them/her/it? A pleasant but exhausting perusal of CGs left me empty-handed. Maybe I’m fumble-fingered. Second: what’s your all-time favorite one-off? Do I win a prize if it’s Hoboken Saturday Night? Sorry, that’s two and half and too many hyphens. Thanks — David Poindexter, Illinois

There probably is such an artist, but that’s exactly the kind of personal factoid you can’t pick out of thin air. You have to trip over it as you pursue a related matter. I sat here musing for a few minutes and got nowhere. Dinah Washington, whose ‘76 vinyl twofer I once recommended in passing, might be worth a shot. As for one-offs, you could say Have Moicy! Doesn’t really count but I say it does. Hoboken Saturday Night is a good one (and also not truly a one-off), but not in that league. Less fun, but you could put Hanging Tree Guitars on the short list too. And now I’ll stop before I sprain my brain.

Inspired by their representation in the Consumer Guide and my dedicated and repeated listens to every recommended album I could find, I have solidified my top 10 favorite instrumental jazz artists. “Representation” entails that these artists garnered the most reviews in the CG, and earned (many) high marks. Specifically, there are eight non-vocal jazz artists in the CG that qualify. I rounded it to ten for neatness: I searched the A+ thru A- databases to declare Art Blakey as the most deserving of the ninth entry—placing above David Murray for 8th—and added my own sentimental/childhood favorite, Vince Guaraldi, for the tenth.

1. Sonny Rollins

2. Thelonious Monk

3. Charlie Parker

4. Ornette Coleman

5. John Coltrane

6. James Carter

7. Miles Davis

8. Art Blakey

9. David Murray

10. Vince Guaraldi

Quick follow up: I have an extensive Louis Armstrong collection. I omitted him from the list because I consider him a “hybrid.” LA is among my top 20 favorite artists on a list paradoxical to the one sent. — Adam S. Fenton, Menifee, California

That’s a pretty good list—only Guaraldi wouldn’t be a candidate for me. My (similar) sleeper is Dave Brubeck, whose Jazz Goes to College was my very first true jazz album and who I play fairly often—Carola’s just the right age. Played Jazz Goes to College at dinner recently and not only did Carola love it but Nina thought it was quite OK. I also play my small Nils Petter Molvaer collection (right near Monk in the shelves) often with pleasure—as much as Bird or certainly Blakey (mostly because I’ve never immersed properly in Blakey, I suspect).