American Master Abstract Expressionist Cy Twombly Dies at 83

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            Cy Twombly, the internationally renowned American abstract expressionist who favored living abroad in Italy, just died from cancer and various other ailments.  Twombly was my favorite of all the American abstract expressionists.  His ability to “blur the boundaries of painting, drawing, and handwritten poetry” was the closest artistic visual approximation of my manic bipolar mind state that I could find over years spent exploring the many various facets of the art world.  His work may seem random and childish to some, as many have accused in the past, however Twombly’s creations transcend these shallow critiques.  He succeeded in creating no less than a subliminal language all his own.  His acclaimed works included The Italians, Leda and the Swan, the Ferragosto series, and multiple works using historical Roman and Greek imagery.

            Rather than rehash Twombly’s career I will tell a story to illustrate his importance in the history of 20^th century art.  Years ago I was completely manic at the bookstore Book Soup on Sunset Blvd. across the street from Tower Records (when Tower still existed).  Out of my mind, I was buying books up right and left, hundreds of dollars worth.  Up in the art section I saw a Twombly box set, the awe inspiring four-volume Catalogue Raisonne.  I forget whether or not you could buy the books individually or if you had to buy the entire box set as a whole.

Like I said, at the time I was completely manic and buying up everything in sight.  Twombly, along with Pettibon and Basquiat, were my favorite artists, so I debated the purchase heavily in my mind back and forth for a good while, but in the end I had enough sense to realize that $400 was a lot of money to spend on art books, so I passed them up.  Unbelievably, I probably bought $1,000 worth of books that day and left the Twombly Catalog Raisonne sitting up there on the shelf.  I think I even asked a clerk to bring it down so I could thumb through it.

           
             Ever since that day I have regretted not purchasing those books, not only because they are the ultimate Twombly books, but because today you can’t find a complete set of them on sale for any less than $2,500.  And those are usually the German versions.  Now that Twombly’s died you can bet the prices will shoot up even more.  Talk about passing up a great investment.  Every now and then I even have a bad dream about my mistake and the lucky people who had the clear vision to fork over the $400 to make the art book purchase of a lifetime.

            “The marvelous thing about having lived so long is to have been recognized along with Jasper Johns and Robert Rauschenberg as one of the three most important American artists to emerge in the 1950s,” Paul Schimmel, chief curator of Los Angeles’ MOCA said of Twombly.  In a New Yorker review of an exhibition of drawings at the Whitney Museum of American Art, Peter Schjeldahl observed, “Twombly’s best art entails an odd transaction: confessing fundamental bewilderment in return for being granted a flare of exaltation.”  I couldn’t have put it better myself.

Alcoholic Insanity Permeates Fitzgerald’s "The Beautiful & Damned"

            I love the doomed portrayal of the reckless alcoholic downfall of Anthony Patch in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Beautiful & Damned.  In my opinion, Fitzgerald’s knack for turning an exquisite lyrical phrase and his keen eye for social observation are incredible. His stylistic expertise makes for a more beautiful and challenging read when compared to some of today’s mainstream tabloid flavor of the month authors looking to turn a quick buck and capitalize on some free publicity.  You truly feel like you’ve learned something upon finishing TB&D.   

Soaking in the drama as you read, you feel you’re getting smarter page by page.  The story’s conclusion is no let down either.  It’s absolutely hardcore, building to a monstrous climax, while spanning an entire rainbow of emotions all the while.  Part of me was sorry when the book ended.  If anybody out there is thinking about becoming an alcoholic, reading TB&D might change your mind. 

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Lazy Anthony Patch and his flighty wife Gloria live the high life, at the beginning of the novel, with no financial worries, partying every night, pouring numerous highballs down their throats, all in the company of their A-list friends.  After all, they have Anthony’s grandfather, Adam Patch, and his millions, to fall back on.  Fooling themselves without a care, Anthony and Gloria bank their future on Adam’s inheritance and continue on with their carefree way of life.  As the overblown and unnecessary parties gradually continue to turn into embarrassing drunken fiascoes, Adam Patch, disappointed with Anthony’s lack of ambition, decides for the most part to cut him out of his substantial will.

As their funds continue to deplete, Anthony and Gloria engage in a myriad of loud intense arguments.  Were the story to take place today you’d think the couple would have divorced on numerous occasions.  The couple’s simultaneous great passion and scorn for each other makes their downfall all the more destructive.  Fitzgerald does a masterful job of depicting the roller coaster ups and downs of the Patches relationship and his dialogue is so spot on it’s scary.

At its heart TB&D is a comment on entitlement, as Anthony mistakenly feels he was born with the innate right to live life without having to lift a finger to earn a legitimate living.  He always talks about becoming a writer but never really seems to follow through on any of his ideas.  His grandfather even suggests he become a war correspondent, a suggestion Anthony basically brushes off without much consideration.  Similarly, Gloria somehow thinks a future acting in motion pictures is going to magically materialize at her feet.  She soon realizes nothing could be further from the truth.

TB&D is a perfectly drawn portrait of the downfall of one of high society’s most privileged couples.  In the end, Anthony winds up punched out and bleeding in the gutter before going completely insane.  Of course Fitzgerald wouldn’t have it any other way.  TB&D may not include any cell phones or i-pads, nevertheless Anthony Patch’s final devastation is no less powerful than anything today’s 21^st century computerized machines could devise.

"The Last Book Store" Saves LA From Amazon

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            I am so sick that bookstores keep going out of business and people now instead make their purchases over the internet, usually through Amazon, where most of the time you have to pay a $3.95 shipping charge, or worse just upload their books to a kindle or an ipad. 

            A few weeks ago in the LA Times I read an article about a new used bookstore located downtown called The Last Book Store and I finally made time to go check it out for myself.  It was great, totally awesome and the prices can’t be beat.  It’s located right at the northwest corner of Spring Street and 5^th Street (enter off of 5^th). 

            The store is beautiful.  Upon entering you walk through a room packed with books, everything on the shelves priced to go at $1.  It’s an original old “downtown” building with tiled floors and very high ceilings so there’s plenty of breathing room, no stuffy feeling at all.  Overall the store has all the different sections you’d expect to find at any normal bookstore, although some extra specific genre titles might be tough to find.  No matter, there’s a “wanted” list where you can make requests and an email bulletin you can sign up for.

            It seemed like every title I picked up only cost $5.  I’m talking $25 hard covers in perfect condition.  Of course art and design books were a little more expensive but for the most part bargains were plentiful.  And if you’re having a hard time making up your mind, take a seat on the comfortable couch or one of the few chairs scattered around to peruse your selections.

I picked up all for $5 each, Dr. Keith Black’s hard cover memoir Brain Surgeon, Lenny Bruce’s memoir How To Talk Dirty And Influence People (intro by Eric Bogosian), Thomas Wolfe’s paperback Look Homeward, Angel (intro by Maxwell Perkins), and Philip Roth’s hard cover The Plot Against America.

The store even has a section for CDs and DVDs.

Remember, The Last Book Store is a used bookstore and will be happy to consider purchasing old volumes you have in your collection should you wish to sell them, assuming they are in decent condition.  That’s the primary reason its shelves are packed with so many gems.  Take a look at its website http://www.lastbookstorela.com/ for further info.

D. C. Man Claims To Be First White Male East Coast Rapper

            It’s entirely possible and in fact probable that you’ve never heard of Craig Rosen and the Static Disruptors, and that would be a crime because you most definitely should have.  The little known D.C. Go-Go Funk outfit released what arguably could be called the first East Coast white boy rap song, D.C. Groove, in 1982.  While hardcore contemporaries like Minor Threat and Bad Brains set the tone, dominating the D.C. scene with hardcore punk, Rosen took his crew in an entirely different direction, favoring the wild sounds of outlandish black outfits like Trouble Funk and Chuck E Brown. 

As far as D.C. Groove is concerned, Rosen may be a little quirky on the mic, and his lyrics a little bit corny, nevertheless vocally he perpetrates a quick, flowing, rhyming style a full year before the Beastie Boys released Cooky Puss, a song that often receives credit for being the first NYC white boy sort of rap song set to a certain beat.  If you want to claim Bob Dylan’s Subterranean Homesick Blues or Aerosmith’s Walk This Way as the first white rap song, that’s a tough point to argue that we’ll save for another day.  The only earlier use of hip hop style elements used by an East Coast white person in a recorded song were by a woman, Blondie, in her song Rapture, where she references rap icon Fab Five Freddy.  Working his vocal skills as early as 1981, West Coast DJ Flash seems to be the only other previous legit white male MC at the time.

            Album cover art often starts the story of the music long before any needle hits vinyl and it seems the cover of D.C. Groove bears out this frequent trend.  Rosen is pictured holding an old school ghetto blaster standing in front of a Blowfly / Rudy Ray Moore poster.  It doesn’t get much more nasty than that.

           

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As for the song itself, D.C. Groove opens with a drum roll followed by undeniably deep power chords that resonate perfectly for this racially integrated band.  All the while it sounds like there’s a party going on in the background, well attended by D.C.’s African American population.  They had a full horn section including sax, trumpet, and trombone, and at times reminded me of a B-grade Fishbone.  It’s great when they launch into the celebratory refrain, “It’s the D.C. Groove!”

            Make no mistake, for all his beginner flaws, MC Rosen let it flow sure and mighty for someone breaking a new genre and when he asks, “Who’s the baddest?” it’s no surprise the rest of the eight person band yells back, “STATIC Ds!”  After the standard punchy mid-song horn breakdown, Rosen asks, “Is the DC Groove here to stay?”  I think history clearly answered that one for us.

As for the B-Side Feed The Fire, a sly, funky synth intro leads into what might be mistaken for a Talking Heads cover with Rosen doing his best David Byrne impersonation.  Also, there’s a line where he utters, “Can’t touch your fire…” possibly even reminiscent of The Doors.  At moments a sparse, spacey arrangement gives way to light yet precise guitar slices, Overall, I didn’t find anything here “burnin’ down my house,” so to speak.  However a chorus of “burn the cage” seems to permeate the song on a hypnotic level throughout.

Summarily, if you happen (possibly by sheer luck or chance) to possess the Static Disruptors’ D.C. Groove 7” count yourself lucky.  Recorded in Room 10 at B.I.D. Studio, produced by Rosen, engineered by Tom McCarthy, and released by WASP Record & Tape Xchange, it’s a lil’ piece of important cultural and musical history, gone tragically unnoticed for the most part.  It’s too bad the Static Disruptors never got their act together enough to put out a full length.  In that case, history may have looked back on Rosen’s crew as more than just a footnote in the annals of D.C.’s Go-Go Funk past.