Robert Christgau: Dean of American Rock Critics

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Xgau Sez

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

To ask your own question, please use this form.

September 18, 2024

And It Don't Stop.

Consumer Guide music discovery, some subjects for further research, dancing to "Africa Dances," John and Faith Hubley, the hottest young male newcomer in the biz, and Geoffrey Stokes remembered.

[Q] I was wondering if you'd share how you choose the reviews for the Consumer Guide these days. You've mentioned that you don't get sent a lot of promos anymore. Do you rely on recommendations from friends, playlists, podcasts? -- Jim Testa, Weehawken, New Jersey.

[A] First, all caps because I've said it several times before: I DON'T LISTEN TO PODCASTS. The main reason being that I spend so much ear time listening to music, both for pleasure and for work. How I sort out Consumer Guide records is as it's long been—Spotify, somewhat dubious sound quality and all, means there's no need to send me physical product, although it does give anyone who does so a big leg up, because I play anything likely-looking as well as some but not all of the indie obscurities I still do get in the mail—that's how I discovered Claudia Gibson's Fields of Chazy a few months ago, although it's far more common for me to quit after two or three tracks. And I always scan the Pitchfork and Rolling Stone review sections. Plus I gossip with other music lovers amateur and professional: my sister Georgia for one, and it was Rob Sheffield who turned me on to Rosie Tucker some months ago. Most important, however, is that although he's not on my nonexistent masthead And It Don't Stop does have an overseer: my much-younger-than-me old friend and nearby neighbor Joe Levy, the great editor who persuaded me to give this Substack thing a try and is forever emailing me with tips without which I'd have trouble making my nine full reviews plus five briefs quota every month. Levy made And It Don't Stop happen and thereby changed my old age. How long it can last remains to be seen—I am truly not getting any younger. But I am in his debt, and so are my readers.

[Q] Obviously, you're a fan of great unique female voices. Dionne Warwick, Billie Holiday, and Ella Fitzgerald each have numerous albums on your website reviewed with high recommendations. So I'm curious why you've never reviewed any Peggy Lee or Dinah Washington albums. Surely there must be an album by each of them that you'd unequivocally recommend. Both crossed over from pop to jazz effortlessly and always sounded original and fabulous. My own favorites would be Peggy Lee's Black Coffee and Beauty and the Beat, and Dinah's Dinah Washington Sings the Fats Waller Songbook. You would love them all. -- Ted Ravern, Astoria, New York

[A] First of all, I don't put Warwick in Holiday's or Fitzgerald's class—take a look at my reviews and note that the Warwick picks are basically redundant greatest-hits albums I assume without doing the research were reviewed at different times. Second, I'd almost certainly add Dolly Parton to this short list, exactly how I won't figure out for free. Third, I was just mentioning Dinah Washington as a Subject for Further Research in a recent Xgau Sez and take this note as seconding that emotion. Fourth, checked my CD shelves and found a 2004 reissue of Black Coffee, the only Peggy Lee there though I bet a few are I've tucked away in my vinyl. Promise to play it at breakfast or dinner soon.

[Q] Hi Bob, I wanna thank you for putting me yet again onto a great African band (Africa Negra this time, with their second compilation). I discovered so much great African music through you I feel like I owe you a statue or something (will ask the city of Brussels if they're interested). So few music critics delve into and discuss African music. Why do you think that is? The language barrier seems like a very lame excuse, since in music the form is the content, as Borges says somewhere (I believe). What are we gonna have to do without you? All my best and hope you're doing well. -- Arthur Hendrikx, Brussels, Belgium.

[A] When I was a young jazz fan just out of college in 1962 I was already aware that most of my favorite music was made by African-Americans. So even back then I made it my occasional business to try to learn more about Africa. My research was sporadic to say the least, and I never became a big fan of Miriam Makeba, then the best-known African musician. But I never forgot that truism. As I've written before, the turning point came when I drove over to Brooklyn to have dinner with John Storm Roberts, a Brit who grew up in Kenya who was covering salsa for me, and he told me he'd released a superb DIY compilation of African pop hits called Africa Dances, which is still findable on Discogs. I loved and reviewed it instantly. By the late '70s other African music was being released in England, with King Sunny Ade an early beneficiary, and soon it was an vaguely defined subgenre, which as you say I've always kept my eyes and ears on. But what's struck me over the years is that seldom are lyrics a comprehensible part of the package, and also that the woman I married, who heard Africa Dances at the same time I did, is a much more skilled and enthusiastic dancer than I am, which in a rhythm music is a major factor. So there's a sense in which Carola augments my enthusiasm whenever she sashays around the dining room as an African album comes on.

[Q] Your recent review of Louis Armstrong and Oscar Peterson reminded me of the latter's contributions to two of my favorite short films—Begone Dull Care, with Peterson backing abstract animation by his fellow Canadians Norman McLaren and Evelyn Lambart, and The Tender Game, with Peterson accompanying Ella Fitzgerald on "Tenderly" in the service of a cartoonishly arty love story. Then I got to wondering if you'd checked out the work of John and Faith Hubley, the married animators of The Tender Game (and parents of Yo La Tengo co-founder Georgia). Besides Fitzgerald and Peterson, other musicians who worked on their films include Dizzy Gillespie (several times), Lionel Hampton, Benny Carter, Harry "Sweets" Edson, and Quincy Jones. They even recorded Louis Armstrong (!) and Frank Sinatra (!!) along with Fitzgerald and Peterson for an ill-fated version of Finian's Rainbow. The Hubleys also used recordings of their children at play (including Georgia) as cartoon soundtracks.

[A] These all sound like good movies and I'll try to keep an eye out for them. As for the Hubleys, the only film of theirs in my recall memory is Moonbird, a basically humorous 1959 kiddie animation that completely charmed me when it came out. I believe I saw it as a short at the Fifth Avenue Cinema. Even at 17 I was a complete sucker for little ones like those who dominate this film. Regrettably, they do not include Georgia, who was not born yet. To which I should add that it was my pleasure to see Georgia and Ira (and James McNew too) at a house show last Tuesday, where everyone in the audience paid for their seat by writing a rather large check to the Harris-Walz ticket.

[Q] In your review of Zach Bryan's The Great American Bar Scene, you comment: "But losing his money to a bookie or calculating the distance between his beating heart and the bullshit on late-night TV, noting that the only outlaw he ever met was in the Marines with him, inviting John Mayer onboard as if he's doing him a favor although Springsteen is obviously a different story, wondering whether God is a person or the sound of laughter in a place he's yet to find, he's self-evidently a country singer who'll be around so long he'll eventually be too big for the category." My question is specific to the Springsteen remark ("obviously a different story")—what IS that story? Because when I saw this collaboration I was struck—Zach Bryan is a relatively newcomer (and yes, a talented writer) with six records in the last five years. I'm puzzled by the collaboration and wondered if you had any insight. -- Michelle Barnett, Ann Arbor

[A] Without an iota of reporting to back me up, I would assume that at this juncture newly crowned Jerry Garcia fill-in Mayer can use an extra shot shot of the hottest young male newcomer in the biz and might even have angled for one. I also assume that superstar Springsteen is both impressed and just plain decent enough to be happy indeed to hitch his wagon up with Bryan's when it's convenient for both.

[Q] You had the pleasure of working with Geoffrey Stokes at the VV. As far as I can tell, there was no one else like him at the Voice—maybe even at any publication. This guy wrote about music, the press, hard news, sports, and food! (Pretty sure Liebling didn't write about music.) What kind of guy was he and do you have any interesting stories about him? I just think the guy doesn't get his due. -- Steven Ward, Jackson, Mississippi

[A] Stokes was one of my best friends at the Voice. He lived just a few blocks from me on East 10th Street and as the generalist you describe liked to say: "You want a ham sandwich? I'll give you a ham sandwich. You want cheese on that? I'll put cheese on it." Politically he was a staunch left liberal with no radical pretensions—I believe he worked in city government for a while. We once spent half an hour rewriting his The Phlorescent Leech and Eddie review so that we could legitimately obey the silly heds-must-have-a-verb rule so as to call it "Flo and Eddie Flow and Eddy." Eventually he moved to Vermont, and by sheer luck I decided to give him a call from my sister's summer place. He'd had cancer and told me he was headed down to Boston the next day for surgery that would fix him up. Instead it killed him, making me the last Voicer to exchange words with him. He was deeply missed and for some of us remains so.

August 21, 2024

And It Don't Stop.

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.

July 17, 2024

And It Don't Stop.

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.

  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

[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).

June 26, 2024

And It Don't Stop.

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.

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