The Wizard Replies

           There's a new kid in town to put the challenge to the Wizard. He's a twenty-something who rides a moped and wears a funny helmet. I heard him playing his guitar yesterday. I couldn't help but notice, he was playing so loud. When you play loud you better have some chops, because if you don't, you're pretty much announcing to the world I can't play. I heard every wrong note the kid played for fifteen minutes or so before he quit. He wasn't playing anything musical, just this and that, but he was obnoxious about it. He had a clean sound, which I don't mind, but damn, play a song, play something. I don't want to hear your cranked-up doodling.
             A short time later the Wizard responded with his tuned down distorted sound. I heard him playing Crazy Train almost to perfection. He wasn't playing overly loud, just loud enough to be heard. He broke into the lead part and I thought, ahh, that's better. Somebody with talent. Now, if he'd just play Long Live Rock n Roll by Rainbow things would be perfect.

The Hobbit

            I'm reading The Hobbit. I remember kids carrying the book around when I was a young, but I wasn't a reader then, I was a dumb jock. Little league, mostly.
            There's a lot to follow. Hobbits, dwarfs, wizards, dragons, family history, the English language being used properly. I think back on the kids who read the book when they were nine. Little geniuses. They hardly seemed smart at the time, but it's clear to me now, I was galavanting with the wrong crowd.
            I tend to think of The Hobbit as required reading. It's a marker for intelligence in my opinion. Have you read The Hobbit? If the answer is yes, then you're entered into the intellectual elite. If the answer is no, then you're not that sophisticated, much like myself. Watching the movie doesn't count in my estimation, but that's another subject altogether.
            I sure hope I get through the book. I wouldn't want to be unintelligent by my own definition. I have some concerns though. I'm already having trouble staying interested. Hell, if I could get through Hemmingway's Island in the Stream, I can get through anything.

The Heat

            We're having a heat wave here in Los Angeles. It was a hundred and seven the other day. Now, we're settling in at about hundred and three. I don't do well in the heat, on account of I'm a precious little flower. I tend to wilt at about ninety-five. The heat affects my moods adversely, but if need be, I can snap myself out of it.
            I went out into the world yesterday. It was mid-day and the heat was at its apex. It never fails when I'm doing errands on a hot day that I'll see someone wearing a long sleeve shirt, or even more perplexing, a jacket. It strikes me as odd when I see it. It's like seeing someone wearing a wool cap in eighty-degree weather. I don't get that either. Some people have a tolerance for heat I guess, or they're always cold, even when it's a hundred and five.
            I worked with a guy once who would wear long-sleeve woolen shirts in the heat. I'd feel my insides burning, it was so hot, and he'd walk up in bright orange, long-sleeve shirt.
            "Aren't you hot?" I'd ask
            "The heat doesn't bother me."
            "You're nuts."
            He's dead now. Cancer. Shame. I liked him otherwise.

         
         
            

Parallel Parking

            I had dinner with my sister the other night. We ate at a Szechuan restaurant in Alhambra. The food was great, but there's always a wait for a table. The restaurant had chairs set up outside on the sidewalk as a courtesy. My sister and I sat and read the menu while we waited.
            A car pulled up to parallel park at the curb in front of us. There was nothing else to do but watch as they backed their car in. There were probably a half dozen of us watching this poor guy try to park. He was off kilter to begin with and it got progressively worse from there. He must have pulled up and backed in twenty times before he got it right. My sister and I looked at each other and shook our heads. It was hard to watch.
            About ten minutes later another car pulled up and tried to parallel park. It looked strikingly similar to the first car. I found myself getting mildly agitated as I watched one bad decision after another. I noticed the people sitting next to me were frustrated too. I heard them say, "no! Turn the wheel the other way!" To see people fail over and over again was interesting to me. Watching their wheels turn one way and then the other, as they pulled forward and backed up, stopping to make proximity calculations, pulling into traffic, backing out of traffic, only to realize they had repeated the same mistake. The drivers were Chinese. Nothing racist here, it's just an observation. (My editor still thinks it's racist).
            My sister and I shook our heads and laughed. A third car pulled up a few minutes later. We patrons sitting on the sidewalk let out a uniform groan. Oh no. 

Eldorado

          Someday I'm going to own a nineteen seventy-two black Cadillac Eldorado, and float to my destination of choice. Of course I won't drive the Caddy unless I know for sure that there's a parking lot nearby, or an abundance of street parking. That's going to be my first question, "how's the parking?"  I'll have to avoid some neighborhoods completely: parts of Korea town, mid-Wilshire, Beachwood Canyon. And then there's the gas problem. How much will it cost to get there? I figure it will be five bucks just to get her warmed up. Thirty bucks for a round tripper no problem. I know it's an impractical idea, but in my mind it's a great idea. 
          The best part of owning the Eldorado will be watching the faces of the valets as they drive off in search of a good place to park.  

Raw Power

          I've often wondered why The Stooges album Raw Power sounded so bad. It's always bothered me for some reason. Why does it sound so muffled? Nobody really talks about it. Most people revere the album unabashedly, which is perfectly understandable. But my ears have always said what the heck is going on here, where are the drums? Where's the bass? I finally got fed up and did some research. 
          As it turns out, Iggy decided to mix the album himself and something went haywire. According to my research, Iggy bounced tracks when maybe he wasn't supposed to and as a result he reduced his mixing options. He gave the master to David Bowie to mix.
       
          Bowie's quote:
       
          "the most absurd situation I encountered when I was recording was the first time I worked with Iggy Pop. He wanted me to mix Raw Power, so he brought the 24-track tape in, and he put it up. He had the band on one track, lead guitar on another and him on a third. Out of 24 tracks there were just three tracks that were used. He said 'see what you can do with this'. I said, 'Jim, there's nothing to mix'. So we just pushed the vocal up and down a lot. On at least four or five songs that was the situation, including "Search and Destroy." That's got such a peculiar sound because all we did was occasionally bring the lead guitar up and take it out." 
         
          And that's why Raw Power sounds the way it does. Amen.
          

Elvis and The Golden Gate Quartet

          I've always wondered where Elvis Presley got his singing style. It was such an unique style of singing, and of course nobody can sing quite like Elvis. I can do it as joke, for a line or two, but that's about it. His approach makes perfect sense to me from a technical point of view. It's breathy, from the gut, but also from the throat. It combines all the basic elements of singing and presents them eloquently. He kind of ruined it for the rest of us. It's fun to sing in that style.

          I stumbled upon a video clip on YouTube. I love YouTube. It was of a black gospel group from the thirties called the Golden Gate Quartet. The song they were singing was called Noah. Upon hearing this for the first time I did a double take. It immediately occurred to me that this was where Elvis got his singing style. One of the singers was a dead ringer for Elvis. I googled the Golden Gate Quartet, and sure enough, Elvis was a huge fan. So much so that he went backstage after one of their shows when he was stationed in Germany. The mystery was solved. Elvis Presley got his singing style from the Golden Gate Quartet. You don't believe me? Listen to it yourself. The clip is called Golden Gate Quartet, Early Years. Scroll to 4:42 of the clip. That's where the song Noah begins. Listen to the whole song, and tell me it doesn't sound like Elvis. Just do it! Don't cry.