I Just Read About That…

SOUNDTRACK: MARTIN TIELLI-Ottawa Bluesfest Ottawa, ON (July 5, 2008).

This brief set at the Ottawa Bluesfest was for a Six Shooter Records showcase. As such it is short (about 30 minutes).  By the end there are tons of guests playing with him, which is fun.

He opens with three solo acoustic songs: “I’ll Never Tear You Apart” which sounds great and “Something in Those Woods” which would appear on his third album The Ghost of Danny Gross the following year. When the song ends, he says he is still  “working on it.” The third song “The Underbrush” will also appear on Danny.

Then the band comes in: Ford Pier, Greg Smith and Doots (Steven Pitkin) on drums.   Someone in the band says that Martin looks great, the treatments really paid off to which Martin replies “What?” incredulously.

The rocking “My Sweet Relief” segues nicely into the rocking “That’s What You Get for Having Fun.”  Interestingly, Martin seems to forget the words, so they play an entirely instrumental verse (complete with a solo) before resuming the song.

The final song is a great version of “Shaved Head,” with a full cast of Six Shooter Records players in the guest list: Luke Doucet, Paul LaPlante, Christine Fellows, Justin Rutledge, NQ Arbuckle, Casey Laforet and  Mark Sasso as well as a few others whose names I missed.

It’s a great fun show and a great quality recording.

[READ: July 1, 2015] A Bright Moon for Fools

I found this book at work and was intrigued by it.  Not by its title or cover, which is dreadful, but because on the edge of the pages was printed Up on two legs, man!  I love a book that plays with convention so I decided to check it out.  Then on the front is a blurb from Michael Palin(!) which says “Very funny, very unpleasant and very moving.”  And this is a very apt blurb for this book.  It is quite funny, it is very unpleasant and it is also rather moving.

The story is about a man named Harry Christmas.  Christmas is a scoundrel.  He is mid-fifties but appears much older–fat, drunk and be-mustached.  He fancies that he looks fantastic, but no one is fooled.

Christmas suffers no fools. He expounds vociferously about any slight (especially slights against common courtesy–for although he is belligerent, he does believe in common courtesy).  He hates all of the vulgar inanities of modern life, which he calls, “The Rot.”  He hates people who use air quotes, he hates people who listen to walkmen (or whatever other technological marvel is out there), he hates people who want to sit and talk to him while he is eating, and worst yet he hates those who assume that because he is British, he loves football.  None of these hatreds seems that unreasonable to me, but since Harry is a big drunken man, his belligerence moves past justifiable and into the realm of scary.

And yet, he is a funny and enjoyable protagonist to be sure.  Well, except that he has stolen the life savings from his previous girlfriend and has fled London for Venezuela.

At first we don’t know exactly why he is fleeing (he has some knowledge of Spanish, at least).  Then we find out the woman he stole the money from has a stepson, Slade.  And that Slade is psychotically crazy.  He came after Christmas in the street with a knife.

The reason he is fleeing to Caracas is because his beloved ex-wife, Emily, the woman who kept him sane against The Rot, died recently.  She was from Caracas.  All he has left of her is a volume of poetry that she loved to read.  He imagines that if he can get to her homeland something may resolve itself for him.

And yet, he cannot help but be a drunken belligerent boor.  He drinks excessively but only drinks the best whiskey there is–and he shudders at poor quality stuff even if he is just going to pour it down his throat.

But a  wonderfully complicated character, Christmas is also charming.  Oftentimes inexplicably so.

He makes friends where he goes, and sometimes very conveniently so. He also finds that women seem to like him.  So when a cab driver takes him to a bar, he meets a woman–a woman who other men have been eyeing all night.  And within a few winks, he manages to go home with her and they have, in her words, perfectly dreadful sex.  He believes that she is lying and assumes that she will meet him again the following night, but there is no way, and Christmas is on his own again.

And that’s when he learns that Slade has somehow tracked him to Caracas.  Turns out Slade has a friend on the London force and he called in a few favors to follow Christmas’ paper trail.  Slade has the patience of a lunatic, sitting and waiting for hours and days (taking drugs to constipate himself dos he doesn’t have to leave his station).  And, also, Slade got lucky.  And this begins the utter debasement of Harry Christmas.

In the span of a few hours, he loses his wallet (and his stolen money), he gets beaten up and eventually falls down a flight of stairs.  He is in desperate shape.

That’s when he meets Judith, a woman reading a book that he wrote.  Well, no, he didn’t write it.  He sees that the author’s name is Harry Strong and that there is no photo on the book.  He strikes up a conversation and, upon realizing that she doesn’t know what the author looks like, he assumes that man’s life. And Judith, who is perhaps a little too hippieish falls for it.  And after a meal in which he reveals that he was robbed of all of his possessions (which is technically true), she decides that she is going to help him.  And that’s just what Harry wants.

She invites him back to her place where she takes care of him and treats him like royalty.  She also has an astonishing libido and has sex with him several times a day. Judith is also a sculptor of erotic pottery, and I love that when Harry becomes one of her models, it actually comes back to haunt him.  Harry begins to really like Judith.  She is a good person and she genuinely cares for him.  He starts to feel badly for using her, although at this point he hasn’t used her that much, and Judith seems happy with what he brings to the table.

And then Judith’s daughter Bridget arrives.  Bridget is instantly skeptical of him, and Harry is aggravated by her as well.  Bridget sets out to prove that he is a fraud, except that their part of the village has no internet yet.  But over the few days Harry begins to win over Bridget.  Bridget is pleased that her mom is so happy even if she doesn’t trust Harry (who assumes Bridget is a lesbian and that’s why she doesn’t like him).

But then horrors in the name of Slade be fall their idyll.

And this is the aspect of the story that is so disturbing.  Slade is a psychopath.  And Gibson isn’t afraid to let us know just how psychopathic he is.  We learn of some things that he has done in his past–truly horrible, violent things.  And I’m not entirely sure that Gibson can be forgiven for describing in (mercifully brief, but still too much) detail the brutal rapes that Slade has committed.  Yes, this comic novel, this book that has a protagonist who is charmingly nasty–a delightful rogue–has an antagonist who is far worse than anyone could possibly expect.

Slade invades Harry’s life on several occasions.  Each one makes his life a little bit worse.   He ransacks Judith’s life and makes Harry flee (in a fairly daring escape on a bus out of town).  Until finally, Harry ends up in a tiny village–hungover and useless–humiliated and bereft of everything–even his passport.  It’s in this remote village that the rest of the book plays out in unexpected, and not altogether pleasant ways.

The beginning of the book–about Christmas and his observations on The Rot and life’s daily pains in the ass are very funny.  The parts about Slade are really quite brutal and are not for the squeamish.  Many may just give up on the book after reading of Slade’s activities.

But there is some reward to continuing.  Harry is not such a bad guy (as we suspected all along), but it’s still unclear if anyone should find him lovable.  Despite the ways he shows his redemption, it’s possible that he is beyond help.

So if you have the stomach for some grisly scenes, there is much mirth to be had here, but be warned, the ugly parts are really ugly.