SOUNDTRACK: PHISH-LivePhish 01-20 (2000-2002).
To my dismay, my friend Lar recently informed me of a terrible thing that is happening to Phish’s LivePhish series of CDs. This series came out from 2000-2002 and consisted of 20 CD sets of full concerts. The “nifty” thing about them was that they were packed in plastic sleeves (4 discs to a sleeve) which had three holes in them so you could store them in a binder (the LivePhish binder with secret pocket for your stash).
Well, it turns out that whatever material they used in the plastic sleeves leeched out of the sleeves and onto the CDs. For many CDs, it left a goopy residue that wiped off with a little effort. But on other CDs, the goop actually ate through the paint and, apparently (although I don’t know how) through the music. When you look at the discs there are clear “holes” in the paint, so you can see right through the disc. When you play the discs, it ate away at the music as well.
Since this was over a decade ago and Phish is no longer with Elektra and the collections are long out of print, it looks like fans are simply shit out of luck. I have at least 8 sets that have at least one disc that was eaten away like this.
The shows are available for download at the Phish Dry Goods Store, but then you’re paying $10 for something you already own.
Those sleeves seemed like a great idea, but they clearly weren’t tested for long term durability.
I don’t believe there’s any recourse for this, but if you know of any, do pass it along. I’m sure fans must have the concerts online somewhere too, but that’s not the point. Seeing as how the sets are fetching as much as $300 on eBay (which I’m sure no one is paying), there was the possibility that these would have collector’s value. But clearly not anymore. Major buzzkill.
[READ: July 29, 2013] In My Home There is No More Sorrow
This book came with McSweeney’s 40. It is a book unto itself, hardbound and with its own ISBN, so I didn’t feel compelled to read it right then (especially given that the subject was Rwanda and it didn’t seem like an especially happy book to be reading).
But I decided now I was up for it and so in I dove. And it’s not an especially happy book to be reading.
Bass is a writer with many books to his credits (although I didn’t know him). He was sent to Rwanda on an assignment. I gather that as part of the assignment he was sent to teach a writing workshop to local writers. (The actual purpose of the trip, as far as logistics goes, is a little vague I must say).
At any rate, bass and his family (his wife and teenaged daughter) went to Rwanda for ten days. And the first few days are as harrowing as one might expect. I was familiar with the atrocities in Rwanda, but only insofar as I had heard bits and pieces of the story from the news. I had no idea about the extent of the violence–millions of Tutsis killed by Hutus. Nor the extent of the way the survivors have dealt with the atrocities in the seventeen years since they happened. Which is: they have created shrines to the dead and in many cases have not cleaned up or in any way hidden what happened.
And so , we have churches with blood on the walls where people were murdered (I will spare some of the details of the way the children were killed, but I will certainly never forget it). The family also goes to a shrine where the bodies were exhumed and placed in this area for fuller viewing. And the creepiest thing about this shrine is that the bodies were packed so tightly in the mass grave–with no oxygen and with quicklime poured on them , that they did not really decompose–they were more or less mummified–their skin just sort of shriveled. These bodies are practically like living skeletons, left ion their death poses. That’s another image I will not be able to expunge from my mind any time soon.
Rwanda has based a tourism industry around this horror. Which sounds crass and is not meant to be (as it’s not a money making venture, but more of an educational venture). Tour guides are there to show all of what happened in hopes that people never forget and never repeat it.
Overall, Bass can’t help but marvel at the way everyone here seems so…happy. There is no cloud or hatred or resentment over the country, which is really surprising.
Interspersed with this horror is Bass and his wife teaching writing to students (they toured on one day, then taught and the toured again). There are several local writers who attended the seminar and it is quite moving to hear them talk to these people, many of whom are survivors of the atrocity or first generation after. They are skilled writers, but few seem willing to confront what happened–a necessary step for people who clearly have something to say. After the first day one of the students tells them that they have to push the students harder–ie make them deal with what happened. Which they do and which results in their finest work.
After the work is done, Bass and family get to enjoy the other main tourist attraction in the region–gorillas. The border between Rwanda, Uganda and the Congo hosts the remaining 840 mountain gorillas in the world. After a difficult journey (which I’m sure would be difficult for everyone, but after reading how every time the family entered an establishment they were greeted warmly, his fear of entering any of the establishments they pass when they are lost seems foolish and cowardly), they arrive in a practical shang-ri-la–a beautiful wilderness of gorillas, lush vegetation and tranquility.
The gorilla sequences are a nice capper to the horrors of the earlier section of the book, but it’s hard to imagine anyone enjoying anything on the same vacation.
This book taught me a lot about Rwanda–the fact that it’s not poor, that it is lush and verdant and that it has such relative prosperity and happiness–less than 20 years after one of the world’s worst atrocities (which the U.S. did nothing to avert.)
But Bass is also kind of and annoying writer–he keeps bringing in his own baggage . This would be fine, except that he seems to be using the experience as a way to argue with himself about said baggage as a privileged white male. I understand the concern and the fears, as well as the need to not seem like a privileged white male, but it really hinders the narrative. I also understand that it is an important part of his particular journey, but feeling guilty that you are nervous to go into a bar even after every bar that you have gone into has accepted you warmly doesn’t really compare to the horrors that were inflicted upon the people here. I guess the book seems like it doesn’t quite know what it is–a reporting about Rwanda or a personal journey through Rwanda.
So although the book is an essential introduction to Rwanda–both good and bad–it’s not a very good introduction to Bass, whose other books I have no interest in reading based on this one.
The end of the book has several stories from Rwandan writers in the workshop: The first three are poems and the final one is a long two part short story.
BONAVENTURE IYAMUDUHAYE–“What Does This Mean?”
AMINI NGABONZIZA–“I am Killed Alive”
ANNE-MARIE NYIRANSANGA–“My Home”
DIEUDONNÉ NIYONIZERA–“The Long Nights”
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