Robert Christgau: Xgau Sez

These are questions submitted by readers, and answered by Robert Christgau. New ones will appear in batches every third Tuesday.

Howard Keel-Tommy James-Springsteen connection explained, the Jazz King of Corona (and everywhere else), Louis Jordan, Dylan gone electric-acoustic-whatever, Wes Goodwin remembered, Honky Tonkin'.

[Q] Eons ago, your review of Bruce Springsteen's Born to Run closed with two quotes from Greil and Jenny Marcus. I've always wondered what they meant. Could you (if you recall) interpret them: "In closing, two comments from my friends the Marcuses. Jenny: 'Who does he think he is, Howard Keel?' (That's a put-down.) Greil: 'That is as good as "I Think We're Alone Now."' (That's not.)" -- David Cohen, Rockville, Maryland

[A] First of all, let the record show that I was a Springsteen fan before Jon Landau himself--saw him at Columbia's behest at Max's Kansas City in 1973 and assigned none other than Carola Dibbell an early review, than there is no greater compliment I can offer. Howard Keel was a big-voiced Broadway star whose approach to singing basically shared a certain grandiosity with Springsteen's. "I Think We're Alone Now" was an excellent hit by the somewhat unfairly forgotten Tommy James and the Shondells. James wrote a memoir called Me, the Mob, and Music that's basically about what it says it's about, centering on the notoriously gangster-not-gangsta-ridden Roulette label, where he scored his hits.

[Q] Hi, Bob: Recently back from a sojourn to Memphis, TN, where I greatly enjoyed visiting the Stax Museum and Sun Studio. So I got to wondering which music history landmarks you've enjoyed visiting and would recommend, if there are any spots still on your bucket list, and if you've ever gained any insights into your R&R heroes' creative processes thru "being there." -- Brad Whitehead, Columbia, South Carolina

[A] Without question my favorite music history site is located a few miles from where I grew up: the Louis Armstrong House Museum on 107th Street in Corona Queens, only a few blocks--not that I knew this then--from where I went to junior high school on 104th Street right near the 7 train IRT stop. But I've enjoyed visiting New Orleans several times and wonder if I'll ever get there again, which I well might. As for my to-do list, I'm a little old for that now but would certainly explore whatever Beatles shrines there are in Liverpool if I were to find myself there.

[Q] I have a vague recollection of you mentioning in passing maybe in an interview or presentation that you have an unpublished Louis Jordan essay languishing in your archives. Did I imagine that? If not, any chance it will see the light of day? The two volume Decca best-ofs you've recommended were revelatory for me having not consciously encountered his music before finding him in the A+ list. The more I dwell on his oeuvre, the more dismayed I get that an artist so pivotal has become so obscure. The man was to R&B what Charlie Parker was to jazz and had hits to boot. Chuck Berry comes right out of him and when I try to think of artists both as funny and listenable, I come up short after George Clinton and Lil Wayne. Which is all to say, I hope there is a long-form piece to come but, if not, I hope this presents an excuse for you to play some Jordan (allow me to recommend "Hog Wash" and "They Raided the House"). -- Dan Weber, Seattle

[A] Just checked my NYU files and found there a solid six-graf lecture on Jordan. Will scrounge around a little more and try to make a Big Lookback out of what I found. Jordan is all too forgotten. Be worth giving him some of the notice he deserves.

[Q] I can't believe asking you a question is this easy. I'd like to start by saying as a 36 year old man, I've been reading your spectacular writing for close to 20 years now. Thank you for your contribution to music criticism and your awesome taste. In particular I BEG to know what you think of Dylan's first three electric records. I'm guessing they're all on your A shelves, but could you go a bit further with it? Mine are Bringing It All Back Home is an A, H61R A+, and Blonde on Blonde another A Would you agree? Also, did you ever give written reviews for his pre-1968 work? Freewheelin' is pretty much a perfect record to me. -- James Westley

[A] Without bearing down and writing reviews of these records, all of which I like, I would just say this: Freewheelin' was my first Dylan album and probably remains my favorite, though it's not electric and that's partly a kind of nostalgia anyway. As for the first three electrics I'd start with Highway 61 and Bringing It All Back Home though I play Blonde on Blonde more than either and have long nurtured a fondness for the underrated New Morning.

[Q] Hey, bud. I grew up reading my dad's copies of your books. Initially I thought you were an old crank but then I became one too. Highlighted and scribbled through. Bindings bent and dog marks throughout. Anyways . . . fast forward 20 years. I'm bartending at a corner bar and this guy named Wes comes in. He's a St. Louis guy slumping in his drunken bones. We hit it off just right. Eventually he mentions that once upon a time he was the illustrator at The Village Voice in the '80s. Of course the first word out of my mouth is "Christgau." He gives a drunken snicker and says that he dated your sister. We became friends and I've got a bunch of his artwork and he passed away in Baltimore some 10 years ago. So . . . my question is do you know Wes? -- Asher Chase Boisvert

[A] Sure I knew Wes Goodwin. He was a damn good illustrator who, like my sister Georgia, put in years at the Voice. They met at the Christian college I think they both graduated from, although as I recall Was wasn't actually a Christian and by then Georgia was losing the faith as well. Both of them worked at Creem in its early years, and they were quite a serious couple for a while, plus Georgia was night editor at the Voice for a while. She now lives upstairs from me with her husband Steven Levi, who she met at the Voice, and was in contact with Wes in Baltimore before he died. His artwork hangs in her apartment. Good guy, though he did drink.

[Q] Hello Bob. Have you heard of a podcast/book series called A History of Rock Music in 500 Songs (by Andrew Hickey)? It's a great series driven by thorough scholarship. I know you're not looking for hours of music documentary to listen to, but I just heard the episode on Bill Doggett's Honky Tonk. There's a ton of interesting history, and I thought you might have 36 minutes for some great details on this song that changed your life back in 1956. I'm lingering on the late '40s and '50s episodes, learning so much, and the 30 minute podcasts are digestible. Hickey stretches out a lot when there is more historical detail on the artists and recordings, and three hours on art and culture's influence on the beginnings of the VU is really a lot. -- Jim Peterson, Chicago

[A] Again, again, again--I'm much too busy with sound recordings to listen to podcasts, though that doesn't prevent me from making one once in a while. If there's a printed version of the "Honky Tonk" I will certainly read it. Reading--as a professional writer I'm really big on reading.

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

[Q] 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

[A] 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.

[Q] 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

[A] 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.

[Q] 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

[A] 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.

[Q] 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

[A] 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.

[Q] 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

[A] 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.

[Q] 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.

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

[A] 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).

Keeping (or losing) a taste for the new stuff, the (non) Battle at Artists Space, the album artistry of Otis Redding, forerunners vs. forefathers, existential anxiety, and the appalling Gaza war.

[Q] Hi, Bob. Hope you and Carola are doing well. I need your advice. It's becoming more difficult to get into (or even keep up with) pop music these days. For whatever reason, things just aren't clicking as fast and intense for me as they used to. There are exceptions, obviously. Olivia Rodrigo scratches the itch every time. By and large however, I feel mentally fatigued and ambivalent about a lot of new tunes I hear regardless of genre. These feelings started about a year ago, but have only gotten stronger. At 35, I know I've aged out of a large chunk of the pop demographic. But I don't want to lose touch. Music enriches my life too much for me to just give up on it and retire to the tunes of yesterday. Nostalgia is a no-go for me. How do I get out of this rut? -- Jon LaFollette, Speedway, Indiana

[A] Generalizing about The State Of Pop Music is a fool's game I have no desire to play, but it's definitely the case that (a) people do sometimes just lose their taste for the new stuff and (b) that it evolves for a multiplicity of economic, sociopolitical, and technological reasons. What I certainly am willing to say is that if I'm a crucial source of guidance for you and some of my recent enthusiasms aren't ringing your chimes for one reason or another, maybe I've just outlived my usefulness for you. Owning thousands of albums and spending as much time with my music-loving wife as I do, I can certainly say that playing Arto Lindsay's Mundo Civilizado certainly made breakfast feel like a feast yesterday morning and that I'll probably be digging out a less certain pick soon. Then there's one more thing: jazz. I'd bet plenty that there are lots of jazz artists you barely know at all. Explore that avenue for a while. Spotify makes it so easy, but buying a few likely-sounding CDs would be even better.

[Q] Your name popped up a few times in the last couple of days (mid-June, 2024) in the various obits for late no-wave skronker James Chance, most if not all due to the altercation between the two of you back in the late '70s--referred to variously as fisticuffs, a violent assault, overblown, among other descriptors. I was wondering if seeing your name alongside his brought up any memories or thoughts of the time, his impact or lack thereof, etc. He's before my time though I'm at least cursorily familiar with his work--I went back and read your reviews of his output, which all seem to be from after said incident. Was it difficult to be objective after such an interaction? It's certainly a bit more visceral than say, Lou Reed calling you a toefucker onstage. -- Adam, Arlington, Massachusetts

[A] I didn't know Chance or whatever we are to call him had died until I received your query, but for sure much worse people have lived to 71, like for instance Donald Trump. When I was first aware of Chance, decades ago now, I thought he was a jerk as a person but a not altogether uninteresting musician, as in this review: "Bohemias are always beset by ambitious neurotics who hawk their obnoxious afflictions as if they're the future of the species, which is why in theory James White's music is better without the words: you get the jagged rhythms and tonic off-harmonies without being distracted by his 'ideas.' But in fact the music is so (deliberately) stunted it needs a voice for sonic muscle, and James's lyrics do have a certain petty honesty and jerk-off humor. 'I Don't Want to Be Happy' should separate the believers from the spectators quite nicely. B+" (Yes, Chance did sometimes call himself "White.") But I am sorry I have to go into the Artists Space incident yet again, which I once did when Thurston Moore was writing a book he never sent me when it was published. For sure no blood was involved no matter what it says in Bernard Gendron's From Montmartre to the Mudd Club. Anyway, it happened at a nonprofit-I-think downtown spot called Artists Space where my then-young friend Perry Brandston was doing the sound, with his stepfather Bob Stanley and mother Marylin Herzka, both very close friends and both now deceased, in attendance. One "cool" thing Chance liked to do was stride or clamber out into the audience and hit people--not hard, he was a shrimp, just annoying taps. But when he chose Marylin as one of his targets, Bob Stanley, an excellent painter with zero tolerance for "avant-garde" BS, waded onto the floor and to the rescue until, as I recall it, whatever passed for security goons at Artists Space pulled him off. Whereupon I entered the fray, which is to say I sat on Chance until I in turn was either pulled off or persuaded to desist. So to repeat: despite what Gendron reports third-hand, no blood was shed.

[Q] You've written that no one made better soul albums in the '60s than Otis Redding but because your consumer guide started in 1970, none of his albums are graded on your website. He released six studio albums in his lifetime and four more posthumously. I know you likely don't have grades readily available for all of them but can you rank his 10 studio albums in approximate order from best to worst? They are Pain in My Heart (1964), Sings Soul Ballads (1965), Otis Blue (1965), The Soul Album (1966), Dictionary of Soul (1966), King and Queen (1967), Dock of the Bay (1968), Immortal (1968), Love Man (1969), Tell the Truth (1970). Thank you -- Eric Salbas, Syracuse

[A] Sorry, but you just asked me to do three-four days of work--part of my secret as a critic is that I don't jump to conclusions. But I can tell you that The Immortal Otis Redding has been an all-time favorite of mine for more than half a century and I still remember returning to King and Queen with great pleasure a few years ago. And should you choose to make the effort, which if you're so interested you probably should, check out my site, where several other Otis albums are graded and others listed in a complimentary way.

[Q] Hi Robert, in your review of Marshall Berman's All That Is Solid Melts Into Air you said: "A politics of enforced backwardness in the midst of forms and symbols of enforced modernization produced the surreal, self-conscious antigentility of the raznochintsy--sons of clerks and tailors, inventors of nihilism, forerunners of Picasso, Neil Young, and the Latin American novel." I find this idea interesting. Do you think raznochintsy gave birth to the Latin American novel? -- Victor Yeoh, Singapore

[A] I think you're misinterpreting the word "forerunner." It doesn't mean "forefathers"; it doesn't assume a bloodline physical or metaphorical. Seems to me what Berman's saying is that even in alien Russia, which he means to situate at least in part in what is called "the West," thoughtful people were struggling to adjust to the modernity his book means to map.

[Q] Have you ever been clinically depressed? It's obvious that you haven't, but with all the dissing it's kind of annoying. People don't kill themselves expecting others to revere them lol. I'm glad you're all cheerful and love fucking and rocking and living, but there's stuff under the Sun you're blessed you don't know about. Love the work btw, great stuff. Haven't listened to anything from the past 25+ years, but your guides have been invaluable for the good old stuff nonetheless. Nice to see it's still good to ya, boomer!! -- Johnny Silverhand, Earth

[A] "Clinically depressed" is a diagnosis I've most likely evaded, but that doesn't mean I've never been blue for a substantial period, in what seems to categorized as situational depression. I write about it in detail in the college chapter of Going Into the City. Two factors pertained: one, my loss of the born-again Christian faith that promised me eternal life, and two, my growing hunch that the only girlfriend I'd ever had (and also, although I didn't know it at the time really, quite a catch--many of my male high school classmates liked her too, yet somehow the Christian nerd and youngest member of his class won her heart) wasn't quite the perfect creature I'd initially believed her to be. So for two years at all-male Dartmouth I walked around with a knot of romantic disillusion and existential anxiety cramping my gut. I literally could not take a deep breath. Only then one day early in my junior year I took a breath and it went all the way down. A big relief. I continued to suffer from both existential uncertainty and romantic disillusion. But I was over the worst of it. I finally broke up with my gf a few months after I graduated, and I was right. But I have no doubt she deserved better than I found myself able to give her.

[Q] On October 18, you tweeted a defense of Israel citing a well written piece which postulated that the hospital bombing committed one week after 10/7 was actually not committed by Israel. You stated that prior to this evidence, you were "profoundly disturbed" that such a thing could happen. So now here we are, over half a year later, after tens of thousands of deaths and countless hospital bombings which have all undeniably been committed by Israel--and you haven't said a single word? It's one thing for you to have stayed quiet on the issue completely, but you only speak up when Israel can be protected? Bob, what is wrong with you? How are you not profoundly disturbed as the death toll of innocent civilians reaches nearly 40,000 with no clear end in sight? The last thing I ever expected from my decades of following your works was for you to be so spineless. I refuse to believe you only actively stand for something when the narrative suits your desires. -- Brandon Sparks, America

[A] Anyone but a genuine expert who writes about the appalling Gaza war risks being incomplete and probably wrong. I cited that hospital bombing story because that early there seemed some reason for hope that the war would resolve itself with a modicum of sanity. It wasn't yet clear just how appalling Netanyahu would prove to be--or, I will add with my hands shaking, Hamas either. The "lots" I know is too little and in public at least I intend to say as little as possible. I've long believed in a two-state solution and this war is easily the cruelest and most gruesome international conflict of my adulthood. But it hasn't yet turned me into a full-bore anti-Zionist, because as an American of German extraction with many dozens of Jewish friends, I've spent too much of my life taking anti-Semitism seriously to put it on any sort of back burner now.

'Honey' with some schlock, the b-word, namesake kaffe, dear old Dartmouth, Vampire vibes, and 1968 albums (slight return).

[Q] Having just watched the spellbinding American Honey, knowing nothing about it other than your glowing review of its soundtrack, I was surprised to note the eponymous song by Lady A was prominently featured. In a previous question I wrote to you about Lady A's name change, where you described them as a "dreadful band" of "Nashville schlock" (August 2020), I was surprised the inclusion of this song in the soundtrack didn't dent your enjoyment of it. Which leads me in a rather roundabout way to my real question, which is: can an album be an A+ without being strictly "perfect?" -- Adam Montgomery, London, UK

[A] Of course a schlocky band can come up with a first-rate song. I love that soundtrack--it's among my most-played albums even though it never came out as a physical. So I hereby recommend it to anyone who's never heard it, and yes, the movie is also terrific. Lady Antebellum benefited enormously in this context by providing the soundtrack with its title song. They also distinguished themselves by changing their name to Lady A in 2020 after being bombarded with criticism for the pro-Civil War implications of their name. Shortly thereafter (Wikipedia's is a good source on the details) they found themselves in a lengthy dispute with a Black blues singer yclept Lady A, legal name Anita White. Sampling White's top five blues/bluesy songs on Spotify, she's actually damn good--in my opinion better by far than Lady Antebellum/Lady A the country warhorses.

[Q] I was wondering as to your thoughts on the question of whether "problematic" lyrics can actually enhance the quality of a song. I love a lot of the pre-war Delta blues, but a majority of those songs have questionable lyrics when it comes to male/female relations. But for some reason the violence and sexism, are to me integral to the songs' quality. Perhaps this is because blues often has an eerie or desolate atmosphere which fit such lyrics. On the other hand, I am put off by a lot of hip hop for its use of "bitch" and its casual violence towards women. Even though hip hop at times boasts a similar atmosphere as blues. At the end of your review of the debut Ramones album you make the statement: "This makes me uneasy. But my theory has always been that good rock and roll should damn well make you uneasy." You use "Midnight Rambler" as example of a good kind of uneasy. Yet you draw the line, understandably, at "Brown Sugar." How do we make these distinctions? -- Bojan, Leerdam, The Netherlands

[A] I'd need to listen to a lot of blues records before working out a position on that conundrum, but as to "bitch" in hip-hop I'm basically against it without boycotting it--the word's tone does fluctuate radically in that context plus don't expect me to forget much less dismiss Roxanne Shante's great lost The Bitch Is Back. In addition let me note that my brief review of the Stones' 2015 Brussels Affair suggests that it's time to remove "Midnight Rambler" as well as "Brown Sugar" from their canon.

Xgau Sez

August 21, 2024

July 17, 2024

June 26, 2024

May 22, 2024