The Sound of the City

I mentioned on Facebook recently that I had started reading “The Sound of the City“, a book about popular music in the last half of the 20th century written by Charlie Gillett, the  UK musicologist/writer/broadcaster.

It really was a pioneering work, at least in its first edition, published in 1970. In it, Gillett maintined that “real” rock’n’roll, ie the American kind that grew out of R’n”B, had expired sometime around 1960. He conveniently manages to ignore such minor details as Sha Na Na’s appearance at Woodstock, an occurence that would seem to suggest that the music wasn’t quite as dead as his neat categorizations would suggest.

However, now reading the 3rd edition (1995, I believe), Mr. Gillett’s work  has some shortcomings that cannot be ignored. First, his undeniable need to lecture.  Comtemporary accounts of the period about which he is writing are haphazard at best. There is darn near a disputable “fact” on every page, but Gillett would have you believe that his work is somehow Divine gospel. For an example off the page I just happen to be currently reading, he misses the now commonly-accepted fact that Ike Turner wrote “Rocket 88”.

Second the style is dry as stale toast.  There is little anecdotal account, almost no quotation, just Mr. Gillett droning on and on. In this respect, I  would contrast it with Michael Lewis‘ “Moneyball“, where Mr. Lewis makes a book about the importance of baseball statistics (!) read like a thriller.

An American Genius

I’m currently rereading a book I first read in the mid-1980’s – Louis Armstrong, An American Genius, by James Lincoln Collier. It’s an exellent read about the man who, for my money, was the most important figure in music in the 20th century, but man, is this book dated.

For the most part, it is an attempt to take an unblinking look at the man, his legend and his legacy. It debunks a lot of the popular myths about Satch, and is packed with facts and figures about his most important recordings. The problem comes in two basic forms (well, OK, three).

First, because it’s a biography written in 1983 (which, with the research required, probably takes its genesis back to the mid 70’s), every biographer at the time felt it their duty to be a pop psychologist. I don’t know if it was the influence of Dr. Joyce Brothers, or Bob Newhart, but now, reading speculation about the underlying motivations of every action in the subject’s life is just annoying.

The second problem is that Collier is a fulltime apologist for Armstrong pursuing commercial success over artistry. This is pure sixties hangover – the idea that “real artists” must don a hair shirt and remove themselves from the pursuit of filthy lucre is laughable from this later perspective.

Third, Mr. Collier is apparently something of a hornplayer himself, and his longwinded dissections of Armstrong’s recordings, are, well, longwinded. One other baffling issue is with the Armstrong catalogue. Collier glosses over the “All-Stars” recordings of the 50’s – the Verve collection known as the “California Concerts”, now widely regarded as the best work of Armstrong’s later career, is not even mentioned.

All that said, this book is, in total, an excellent read, containing many facts and anecdotes found nowhere else. Though dated, it has the invaluable asset of being written at a time when most of the characters involved were still alive to talk to. If you’re a jazz fan, it’s a must read.