SOUNDTRACK: TAME IMPALA-Innerspeaker (2010).
Tame Impala are from Australia, and their sound is majorly retro. They remind me a lot of Dungen, including the fact that I would have guessed (from the way the words are sung) that English wasn’t their native language (which makes this already trippy album feel even more trippy).
Fuzzy guitars over a cool bassline introduce this album. “It is Not meant to Be” is something of statement about the sound of this album. And when the vocals come in (fuzzier still), it’s retro all the way. “Desire Be, Desire Go” continues the fuzzy guitar with a slightly faster pace. The chorus comes in a little cleaner which is nice as it breaks up the fuzz somewhat (but only somewhat). “Lucidity” ups the noise and pace with a great catchy riff and a strong chorus. I think of this as the “hit” based solely on the fact that I heard it first, but when they played KEXP in studio sometime after the release of the album, they didn’t play this song .
They did play “Why Won’t You Make Up Your Mind” which is probably the real single–the cool reverbed riff and the soaring guitars sound great. “Solitude is Bliss” has become my favorite song on the album lately. The vocals remind me of early songs by The Who (maybe from Sell Out), but again, the music is all reverbed and hippie sounding, it’s a nice pairing and the chorus is once again, really catchy. “Jeremy’s Storm” opens with a cool riff. It turns into a wild jam instrumental. “The Bold Arrow of Time” sounds like a song from the 70s. The guitar sound as it opens could come from Jesus Christ Superstar and when the riff finally kicks in, it could be a Cream song. And yet the vocals (always soaring) don’t sound like anything from that time).
I love any song with a good bassline (especially one that’s not just repeating the guitar riff)–so I love the cool bassline that runs through “Runway, Houses, City, Clouds”–high and kind of obtrusive. A perfect way to keep pace. And when the bass gets a little “solo” at the end, it’ s a nice payoff. The final song is “I Don’t Really Mind.” It’s the most conventional and not dreamy sounding album on the album. There’s even a break from the wall of guitar where we get just some drum beats–it’s very p0ppy. It’s a good ending, upbeat and catchy and makes you want to start the whole shebang over again.
The album is a little long-feeling overall (it’s about 55 minutes), and some of it can be a little samey, but there’s enough diversity and great songwriting to make this album really enjoyable.
[READ: July 2012] At Home on the Range
Another frickin cookbook? For a guy who doesn’t do cookbooks, there’s certainly a lot of cooking-based items on this blog. Blame McSweeney’s who put out this book, too.
As everyone knows Elizabeth Gilbert wrote Eat, Pray, Love. I’ve never read it (although I have read some of her earlier books (Pilgrims and Stern Men) which I liked quite a bit–I was into her before she was cool, man). But this book is actually a cookbook that her great-grandmother wrote and had published in 1947. Gilbert’s contribution is slim, but engaging. She gives a lengthy biography of her Gima. She was born rich (Main Line Philadelphia rich) and loved to travel. Gilbert says that you can sum up Gima with a Jazz Age sensibility and one word: Enjoy! By the time she was married (to an “impossible” man) much of their money was gone–indeed, she slipped out of a few foreclosed homes as the sheriff was coming for them.
Gilbert also points out how far ahead of her time Gima was. The 1940s saw food moving towards prepackaging and processing. So this cookbook came out right around frozen dinners to try to re-introduce women to the kitchen (although not in a retrograde way) and to be proud of what you can accomplish there. But more than just a cookbook, Gima tried to introduce Americans to Brains with Black Butter, Eels, Tripe and Calves’ Head Cheese. She was also unafraid to try things in different neighborhoods (the story of how she first encountered pizza is wonderful). Gilbert wonders what might have become of her in a different time place or circumstances and it’s true for she was really a remarkable woman.
And the remarkable nature of this cookbook is not the recipes (which are remarkable and I would like to try some of the simpler ones), but the prosaic nature of the book. Gima is telling a story with each recipe. Indeed, the recipes aren’t even given in standard annotated form: they are written in the prose. Gilbert’s other contribution is to take ten of their family’s favorite recipes from the book and write them out in conventional cooking style for ease of cooking. I enjoyed this book a lot–Gima is a fascinating woman with a delightful taste for life. The question is what to try first?
The book itself is broken down into fairly conventional groups, although with unconventional headings.
The opening section is all about Weekend menus–things you can cook during the week so that you can enjoy the weekend (obviously this is before microwaves, it’s even before electric refrigerators–she uses an ice box).
And the section headings are all quite fun: A Soupçon on Soups; Pot Roast a la Mode Sentimentale and Other Less Corny Meats [some wonderful recipes for conventional meats]; You Don’t Eat That? [this is the most adventurous section, more on that later]; Hard Shelled Ancestors and Their Finny Friends [Oysters, Clams, Scallops]; Greens from the Ground Up [which shows how to make Tomato Juice and boiled cucumbers]; It’s a Cinch with Sauces [from basic white to Hollandaise–easy methods for all]; Salad Days and Ways for Dressing Them [make your own French, Creole or Roquefort dressing]; Mrs Rorer’s Grandmother’s and My Just Desserts [Mrs Rorer published an older cookbook which Yardley references–more on that too; this section has custards, cakes and a make your own ice cream recipe–which I assume was a novelty since no one had freezers.]
Preserve Yourself in Jam [all about making jams and pickles and your own catsup!]; Support Your Ego with the Staff of Life [in which she insists that everyone make their own bread, it is so easy. There’ also a recipe that looks amazingly similar to Sarah’s family’s Christmas sticky bun recipe]; “Open Your Mouth and Say ‘Ah-ha'” is all about how to care for sick invalids–not only foods to bring to the hospital (including lots of booze) but also suggestions for gifts and general comportment when visiting]; Egg Yourself on in Emergencies [you should always have at least half a dozen hard-boiled eggs at all times–this section includes a minimum emergency list of all supplies you should always have on hand]; Painless Party Giving and Effortless Entertaining [it’s not just a cookbook, this is for those times when people stop by unannounced or because you have invited them over]; Give Your Friends a Break with Breakfast [going to her house for Sunday brunch (before it was called brunch) sounds like the most fun ever–she even ordered your out of town newspaper for you if you were visiting]; Less Moaning at the Bar, Please is a selection of drink recipes (that a lady should know how to pour in case the man isn’t home yet–I’m curious about Guadalcanal Pigeon’s Milk}; Hot Stuff for the Range Owner is a section devoted to what kind of stove you should get (two if you have room or budget) as well as pots pans and utensils. And I suspect you wouldn’t go wrong following her advice today.
The Mrs Rorer mention above is the author of Mrs Rorer’s Philadelphia Cook Book, “and it remains high on my list of favorite reading, although compared to today’s completely standardized manuals her easy-going directions might find a more appropriate rest on the fiction shelf” (108). Rorer’s list of adequate kitchen equipment covers three pages in closely printed double columns. And the recipes include comments like: “this is almost impossible to do unless you ave seen it done before.” Mentions of wine are followed by “a coy ‘if you use it’.” Mrs Rorer appears throughout the chapter including this amusing comment about Crème Brûlée:, “Mrs Rorer would undoubtedly mumur ‘troublesome to make’ again, but then she never heard of this dessert” (112).
I want to return to the chapter You Don’t Eat That, because it starts with her recipe for pizza (and how she managed to squeeze it out of the Italian lady in Philadelphia)–evidently people did not eat pizza in the 40s. But I love that in the span of a few pages we have moved on to Calf’s Brain and Mock Terrapin. First Step: “Appeal to the butcher to split a calf’s head and remove the brains (you already know what to do with them). Soak the head in cold water for 1 hour….Simmer gently until the meat is tender…. Cut the head meat into 1 inch pieces.” The Calf’s tongue is cheap and delicious as well. Then she moves on to eels, apparently utterly unheard of until she went to Chincoteague Island. The final oddity is Cockscomb, which is indeed, the red comb on top of a rooster or hen. She ends the section with “convinced by now, I hope, that strange foods are not only edible, but delicious and often economical, continue your culinary explorations by searching out of the way delicatessens and hole-in-the-wall groceries for more of that something different” (73).
I’m focusing on some of the more outré dishes if only because it is fascinating that they are in here. That’s not to suggest that this cookbook isn’t chock full of recipes that require very little in the way of diverse ingredients and most seem easy to make (or at least she makes you think they are easy to make). Gima used a lot of cayenne pepper, but she was well versed with cumin and cinnamon as well as most basic fare. I am going to have to try my hand at some of these, and maybe we’ll have stories just like them.
But even if you’re not interested in the recipes, the book is a treat to read. Gima is very funny, with snide comments and wonderful stories. Her story about accompanying the men down to the Jersey shore while they fished sounds (sexism aside) charming and delightful and her story about her first toy kitchen–powered by, get this, alcohol-soaked cotton swabs (!) and how her eyebrows never recovered is very funny. It almost makes me wish 6-8 people would stop by unannounced on some Sunday around dinnertime, which seems to have been all the rage back then. And she almost has me sold on trading in our fridge for an ice box–although we no longer have the iceman “that bringer-in of mud and gossip and sex interest” (217)!
Oh and proceeds from the book benefit ScholarMatch
For ease of searching, I include: Soupcon, Creme brulee, outre
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