Evil Mickey Mouse Invades Japan

I've been watching older Japanese films lately and received some recommendations on early Japanese animation to look into. Some of the propaganda is horrible, yes, but very interesting to compare and contrast with similar propaganda cartoons from the US, especially during World War II. Enjoy! 

Letters Between a Father and Son

V.S. Naipaul's Letters Between A Father and Son is the most humanising and intimate portrait of Naipaul one could possibly read. Theroux's book and French's biography reveal much of the monstruous and ugly side of Naipaul's character and life, such as racism, sexism, and the way he treated his first wife. A necessary balance requires reading the correspondence between a young Naipaul at Oxford and his father. Older sister Kamla, studying in India, is also a strong presence as father, son, and daughter encourage each other, try to stay afloat financially, and make a way in the world. One sees how strong Naipaul's father's influence was on his fiction, especially in inculcating literary awareness and ambition. Perhaps the greatest tribute a son could ever make for his father is the magnificent A House for Mr. Biswas. Unfortunately, after three years of trying to make sense of burgeoning adulthood and adapting to England, Naipaul loses his father and the reader has, by that time, entered into the daily tribulations of the family. 

The striking thing about young Naipaul, at least the Naipaul he chose to express to his father and sister, is how astonishingly from a very young age, he was already exhibiting signs of arrogance, misogyny, disdain for America, ambition, and loathing of Trinidad. He writes about the need to best the English at their own language, casually uses the 'N-word' when hearing about a relation's dalliance with a dougla, and even feels comfortable asserting his superiority to Jane Austen while still an undergraduate! His arrogance allows him to even tell Selvon what a novelist does while writing to his father that Selvon and Mittelholzer were horrible writers! Already, even before leaving Oxford, young Vidia was trying to avoid the fate for those who allow themselves to become nothing, even urging his father, mother, and sisters to avoid too much reliance on some of their Capildeo kin. As a writer who has seamlessly weaved so much of his personal life into his fiction, from Mr. Biswas to Half a Life, the letters contained here are invaluable for revealing the thin line between fact and fiction. 

So Long Eric

Happy birthday, Eric Dolphy. In memory of you, here's a clip from 1964 of Dolphy in Mingus's group. I believe this blues was composed because Dolphy was leaving Mingus's group, and it's a fascinating example of how Dolphy, despite being part of the "New Thing" in jazz, was always aware of jazz tradition. Jaki Byard is fascinating as usual, capable of playing in all the various jazz styles from stride to modern 1960s styles. Clifford Jordan's astonishingly soulful here. 

The Best of Gato Barbieri: A Personal List

Over two months after his Gato Barbieri's death, I am still awe-struck by his music, particularly his output in the 1960s and 1970s. Barbieri was, in my humble opinion, one of the most intriguing jazz musicians in the avant-garde and Latin Jazz worlds. This is part of the reason Eric Dolphy and Archie Shepp, among others, intrigue me, since they straddled the jazz avant-garde and bop worlds. Bringing South American indigenous instrumentation and even, at least a few times, the tango, into his jazz vocabulary was a bold risk. I believe that somewhat raucous and unruly combination of styles, sounds, and musicians usually succeeded, especially with the accompaniment of polished musicians like Lonnie Smith. Furthermore, prior to going his own way in the 1970s, Barbieri proved himself more than capable in avant-garde circles in Europe, even collaborating with Don Cherry and Abdullah Ibrahim with spectacular results, not to mention his presence in seminal works by Carla Bley and Charlie Haden. Unfortunately, after 1975, Barbieri's commercial route lessened my interest in his music, but that fiery, passionate voice of his remained ever-present in his later musical forays. So, in light of his passing, here is a personal "Best of Gato Barbieri."

1. Complete Communion by Don Cherry for an introduction to Barbieri's work with a fellow jazz legend. Cherry's long composition is suite-like and fueled by Eddie Blackwell's busy drumming (at times hinting at Cherry's interest in "world music", but perhaps sounds a little too similar to Ornette Coleman's work at times, especially around 13 or 14 minutes in). After ten minutes into this rather lengthy composition, El Gato gets his time to shine and it's stunning, as well as a second solo later. In the past, I have compared Barbieri's saxophone style to Pharoah Sanders, but he's in a category of his own. 

2. Nunca Mas for the pathos of Barbieri's tenor and the bandoneon of Dino Saluzzi. I have yet to hear a better, sweeter tribute to Barbieri's native Argentina. Saluzzi's bandoneon sounds perfectly at home while Gato wails his heart out. Barbieri also recorded a version of this with a similar large ensemble featuring a variety of South American instruments, almost matching "Encuentros" in its intensity. 

3. Lluvia Azul is worthwhile just to hear Barbieri's passionate take on more conventional Latin Jazz. While not likely to shock fans of his earlier music with the 1960s "New Thing" in jazz, all the pieces come together beautifully here: percussion, lilting piano, an organized ensemble, and non-static, surprising directions that gradually build themselves into something larger than the sum of all its parts. Barbieri's supported by an excellent horn section. Barbieri also recorded this live.

4. Encuentros, an aptly titled song, is what led me to think of Barbieri as the "Pharoah Sanders" of Latin Jazz or Latin America. Combining Brazilian rhythms in a large ensemble playing numerous native South American regions, "Encuentros" brings together Brazil and Spanish-speaking South America, Afro-Latin America and indigenous influences in a way I have never heard elsewhere. Gato was at the intersection of the "Third World" quite literally, in this musical tribute to Latin America.

5. Maria Domingas was written by Jorge Ben, my favorite Brazilian singer. Naturally, I adore Gato's take on a classic in Brazilian samba, plus Lonnie Liston Smith and Stanley Clarke to keep things grounded. Gato even tries a little singing in that utterly unique, yodel-like manner Jorge Ben does. Brilliant.

6. Yesterdays has been a favorite ever since hearing Billie Holiday emote the standard. Gato does it justice while Lonnie Liston's comping and Ron Carter on bass don't hurt. Playing standards in a Latin vein does not always succeed, but this is one of the successful examples, especially in the combination of Gato's softer, sentimental side with unbridled passion and vibrato.

7. La China Leoncia Arreo La Correntinada Trajo Entre La Muchachada La Flor De La Juventud is another number bringing to mind Pharoah Sanders or the "world music" phase of other spiritual and free-jazz artists of the 1970s, especially in Barbieri's shrieks and weeping saxophone. Again, unlike most Latin Jazz, "Amerindian" insturments like the charango and drums are used with special effect. Unlike my "Encuentros," this isn't cluttered, either.

8. Vidala Triste makes the list for featuring significant vocals from Gato and prominent acoustic guitar in a simple yet mysterious romp.

9. Brasil is propelled by Nana Vasconcelos playing his heart out on berimbau and Smith's piano chops. This is not your lounge-jazz bossa nova at all, which is refreshing, since the song builds up slowly from the slower tempo to a frenetic pace while Gato soars, alluding to his freer period while remaining melodious.

10. Yo Le Canto A La Luna, by Atahualpa Yupanqui, is another lyrical tribute of sorts to Argentina and one of the great songwriters who honored indigenous heritage. Jazzy accompaniment by Smith, Barbieri's smooth singing is not bad at all, either. For an idea of the source material, Yupanqui's is a great place to start.

11. Carnavalito is another Brazilian-flavored song, but does not comprise on Gato's tenor driving the entirety of the song, including higher register skronk calling back to his 1960s days. Vasconcelos is back on berimbau, a deceptively simple while Gato straddles between jazz avant-garde and Latin Jazz.

12. Cancion del Llamero/Tango is noteworthy as an early foray into Latin music, or Gato standing at the corner of the Third World. Featuring Charlie Haden on bass, The Third World captures Barbieri in a transitional phase, but it's hauntingly beautiful. The trombone is awkward, but gives it a multilayered texture. Anastasio Quiroga's original version, just vocals, is equally beautiful. The "Tango" part of the equation sounds like Piazzolla's Prepárense, which was also recorded by Barbieri several years later, again. It's a pity the two never recorded together.

13. Fiesta is where Barbieri went for a more commercial sound, embracing funk, soul, and popular music. While an entertaining number, and musically speaking, more interesting than a lot of popular music of the disco era and beyond, it's just not the Gato whose earlier work speaks to me. This, oddly, sounds like like Harlem River Drive with a Latin beat.

14.  El Arriero, composed by Yupanqui, is a rollercoaster ride with a brilliant percussion section backing Barbieri with some dissonant squeals and honking.

15. Parabola, by Alan Shorter, brother of Wayne Shorter, wrote a fascinating song that, well, like a parabola, moves up and down. Muhammad Ali, not the boxer, drums assertively over walking bass and Barbieri's solo takes my breath away. Although this kind of composition sounds like something Grachan Moncur III would have written, the sidemen make it unique, especially Muhammad Ali's propulsive polyrhythms.

16. India for its austere beauty. Written by a Paraguayan, Gal Costa also sang the song.

17. Girl in Black (Para Mi Negra), the highlight for the soundtrack of Last Tango in Paris. Sensual, lush soundscape again reflecting the influence of the tango. Oliver Nelson, who I love for his 1960s classic exploring the blues, did an excellent job arranging this.

18. Hotel Overture, from one of Carla Bley's ambitious projects in the 1970s, is a favorite for Barbieri's brief yet soul-stirring solo in a cacophonous overture for Bley's lofty jazz opera. With a whiff of Ellington and Mingus, Bley's jazz orchestra's are usually rewarding. Carla Bley is rightfully highly regarded as a composer and arranger, but sometimes a little goes a long way for those unable to listen to the entirety of Escalator Over the Hill. This overture will suffice.

19. Latinoamérica is just an adorable Brazilian-influenced tribute to Latin America. A "cute" Latin Jazz song like Charlie Parker's Little Suede Shoes or Marion Brown's La Placita, this is another avenue for Gato's sensitive, emotionally restrained side to express itself with enough cavaquinho to last a lifetime.

20. El Gato because I am a cat lover and a fan of Oliver Nelson. Barbieri is, as one might expect in a song named after him, introspective while Nelson's horn arrangement responds to his call. Nelson's solo is less adventurous, within the bop realm, yet interesting to hear the contrast in Gato's tenor versus his alto.

21. Last Tango In Paris Jazz Waltz stands out from the famous soundtrack for it's clave rhythm and overt jazz character.

22. Michelle as an early example of Gato's 1960s avant-garde years and a lovely tribute to his wife. Just a trio with bass and drums, allowing Gato to blow us away in a free-jazz song that is still structured and accessible, albeit 19 minutes too long for some ears.

23.  Viva la Quince Brigada from Liberation Music Orchestra's suite of Spanish Civil War songs is a showcase for Gato. Haden, Bley, Don Cherry, and just about everyone else participated in this landmark recording of left-wing, anti-imperialist jazz.

24. What Will be Left Between Us and the Moon Tonight? is similar to Hotel Overture and is unmistakably Carla Bley, but from her Tropic Appetites. Barbieri, or "Unidentified Cat," solos over what would not have been out of place on some of his own Latin American-inspired records from the same era as this exotica suite encompasses various African, Indian, Asian and Latin moods.

Song For Che

Otomo Yoshihide's cover of Charlie Haden's famous "Song for Che" embodies the natural connections between the jazz avant-garde and the worlds of rock, hardcore, punk, and metal. I am not sure what one should call this, but a sort of 'punk-jazz' fusion of jazz themes, instrumentation and improvisation meet the frenetic and raucous sounds of rock and its successor genres makes for interesting listening. Otomo Yoshihide's jazz groups also reinterpreted Eric Dolphy's classic Out to Lunch in a similar vein, definitely worth checking out. I always enjoy it when the rockers try to do jazz, and though it's usually less impressive to me than say the actual music of Haden or Coleman or Ayler, it still makes life worth listening. The same could be said of Captain Beefheart, too. 

The Ganymede Takeover

The Ganymede Takeover is worthwhile for a very phildickian tale combining more typical Dick themes with some surprising twists and turns, especially in regards to the Civil Rights Movement and the Nation of Islam. And as a collaboration with Ray Nelson, it's interesting to see how the writing style is, while similar to that of other Dick novels and full of much of his creative imagination and technology in a near-future Earth, is also full of unexpected humor and different pacing in terms of the plot (not to mention some awkward but possibly self-aware prose). Dick must have been one of the few creative minds in science fiction to find some way to tackle the Cold War, the Civil Rights Movement, Buddhism, collectivism versus individualism, and the recent legacy of World War II in such a zany yet thought-provoking manner, including some rather interesting aliens, worm-like beings occupying the Earth. 

Naturally, as one would expect with Dick, things are never as the appear on the surface, feelings are hurt and some are betrayed, and the central contrasts or dichotomous aspects of the mind, the social order, and in psychology and philosophy are perhaps not as clear-cut as one would expect. Perhaps the intersection of reality and unreality in this novel (occuring with weapons designed by Bulanik, a central figure of the novel who may be comparable to Palmer Eldritch) is less developed here or as challenging as Dick's famous works from the 1960s, but this novel is still worthwhile for rare glimpses at Dick's creative goosebumps 'vibing' with another writer. Frankly, the very humorous and dated (to the point of caricature) depiction of Percy X as a reflection of 1960s Black Power and Gus, the horrid redneck representing the white American Southerner as a redneck racist trying to revive the Confederacy leads one to presume Dick and Nelson were smoking marijuana while reading the news or listening to speeches of Maulana Karenga, Farrakhan, and Bull Connor.

Here's a fascinating reading of a short story by Ray Nelson and an interview with Nelson, including discussion of The Ganymede Takeover. Nelson, LeGuin, and Dick go way back...

The Quiet American

What I love about Graham Greene is his perceptive nature and penchant for being in 'hotspots' before they blow up. Sure, one doesn't have to be a prophet to have foreseen some of the conflicts of the Cold War and colonialism, but Greene's The Quite American shares with Our Man in Havana an intuitive understanding of imminent political and social change. Sure, American intervention in Vietnam long before the Gulf of Tonkin incident was probably predicted by others as early as the mid-1950s, but Greene saw the wasteful Vietnam War in postwar American hegemonic foreign policy, even when masked by American "innocence" (or, perhaps, naivete, as embodied by Pyle). This concern with US foreign policy was self-evident in The Comedians and Our Man in Havana, but this highly cinematic novel littered with references to America's eternal adolescence, articulate this particular postwar British perspective better than The Comedians.

 

 And Vietnam was perhaps the best setting for this shift to decolonisation and US hegemony, especially as the Americans were prepared to ascend as Britain and France lost their empires. This is why Ishiguro's Remains of the Day came to mind while reading this, despite their vast differences in setting and characters. Nonetheless, Ishiguro's novel captured that withering might of the British Empire, whose sun finally began to set, within the metropole. As Robert Stone's explanatory introduction states, Greene came from such a family that was invested in the Empire, and hence the ambivalence on the US and its encroachment in the colonies, or, to be even more direct, Pyle taking away Fowler's "native" woman, Phuong. Naturally, it being Greene, Catholicism is a consistent undercurrent in the novel's portrayal of war, crime, guilt, and redemption, as well as a witty sense of humor and bitter barbs against the US. I loved it all. 

Time After Time

Although I am not a connoisseur of vocal jazz, Chet Baker's unique voice and phrasing makes for interesting music. Sentimental, emotive, a little behind the beat like Billie Holiday and not a bad trumpeter, one can see his appeal. I usually prefer women jazz vocalists whose voices tend, in my experience, to have a greater range and emotional expressiveness, but Baker's managed to forge his own path as a vocalist. As the instrumental side of the equation, they're competent, sure, but I still have much to learn when it comes to cool jazz and West Coast jazz, which is too often a little restrained and not as adventurous or experimental like modal jazz, free, or sometimes, even hard bop.

The Left Hand of Darkness

The Left Hand of Darkness is the second novel in Le Guin's Hainish Cycle that I've read, and far more developed and interesting than the great novella, The Word For World Is Forest.  Exploring androgyny in a wintry planet possibly on the brink of war, Le Guin's brilliant novel forces us to rethink our notions of gender as Genly Ai seeks to bring Gethen into the Ekumene. Mr. Ai is forced to confront a society of humans without gender (well, except for kemmer) and see how despite the differences, the balance of "masculinity" and "femininity" has led to the creation of a very different society. Much like The Word For World Is Forest, Le Guin's interest in anthropology must have led her to research the differences in the social construction of gender in various societies, and brings mythology, elements of Eastern philosophy, and fantasy to craft this world. Much of the transgender and non-binary movements have pushed for a similar sort of realization in the present: an acknowledgement of how the gender binary is not necessarily "natural" and independent of social forces. Le Guins's consistent use of male pronouns for the non-gendered Gethenians is a bit confusing, particularly when coming from the point of view of Gethenians themselves, but the general point remains consistent on dualism that is not neither/nor but both/and, a form of thinking quite common in indigenous societies. 

The astonishing level of detail and chapter entries consisting of Gethenian mythology and history create a fully-fleshed world where the past, present, and future collide and connect with the main plot, including a powerful moment at the novel's conclusion. Furthermore, this world features some uncanny parallels to the "precogs" of Philip K. Dick's literature and the Cold War-era. The Foretellers, mindspeech among the Hainish humans of other worlds, and last but certainly not least, the power accorded to deviants (those with mental illness or in a permanent state of kemmer) have numerous comparable scenarios and characters in Dick's oeuvre, albeit Dick was never quite on the same page when it came to androgyny. In fact, the only instance in which "hermaphrodites" appear in Dick's fiction are the "mutants" who have sex with each other while changing genders for audiences (The World Jones Made). Nonetheless, the mutual interest in precognitive abilities, telepathy, and metaphysics point to a shared concern for understanding who and what we are. So what if novelists lie, as Le Guin says in her introduction, if those lies can lead to some truth? Perhaps Naipaul is right about fiction never lying.

Graham Greene's Diamonds From Sierra Leone

Graham Greene's The Heart of the Matter is another masterpiece of his Catholic novels, all of which I hope to finish. Much like James Wood's useful introduction to the brilliant novel indicates, Greene's Catholicism was often of an anti-institutional kind that can appeal to Protestant tastes or people of all faiths. The Heart of the Matter accomplishes this just as well as The Power and the Glory, and the Freetown, Sierra Leone setting is used quite well here. While Greene's depictions of the local population, especially the Africans and Syrians, could be seen in a 21st century light as racist or questionable, there is a genuine love and concern for all residents of that "Tower of Babel" in Scobie, and, by extension, Greene himself. 

Whilst hardly an anti-colonial novel and lacking the socialism of Camus, whose The Plague is compared to Greene's novel by Wood, Greene is a better writer with a magical combination of humor, accessible prose, subtle and unsubtle phrasing and metaphors, and a deep commitment to Christian values in ways a secular leftist would approve. A tale of love, loyalty, faith, and humanity's struggle to know humankind is a universal struggle, and Greene's setting during World War II in a "white man's grave" colony bring this to the fore. Naturally, some may object to the image of Africa in Greene's imagination (sometimes reminscient of Conrad, perhaps), but with a closer look, Greene's story could just as easily be set in postwar London or Northampton, especially in the battle for love, intimacy, selflessness and pity between men and women, white and black, Allies and  Axis, neutrals and colonials. Scobie's own Christ-like action at the end and good intentions bring to mind the unnamed whisky priest of his other famous Catholic novel, as both must confront guilt and the consequences of their actions, hoping to find some redemption. 

I only wish Ali, Scobie's "boy," and other African characters were given equal consideration or focus for a inclusive narrative on Freetown during World War II. As indicated in the novel and Greene's real-life experience during the War, obviously espionage, smuggling, submarine attacks, local unrest, and a corrupt colonial police and bureaucracy existed, yet we see nothing of the "wharf rats" or the numerous "mammies" who populate the city, only offered rare glimpses into their thoughts and world. And what of the West Indians, the Indian fortuneteller, or Tallit, the Syrian Chrsitian rival of Yusef, who disappears from the novel rather abruptly? Perhaps what Greene's novel needs is a response or counternarrative, maybe along the lines of Kamel Daoud's The Meursault Investigation, for a fuller picture of Freetown during that time. 

Art Ensemble of Chicago Blues

Great black music, past and present. Art Ensemble of Chicago's "Barnyard Scuffle Shuffel" pays tribute to the blues past of Chicago and African-American music in that quintessentially Art Ensemble of Chicago way. Think "Theme de Yoyo" but instead of funk, AEC tackles the blues form in a rather humorous and light-hearted way while threatening to fall apart.