SOUNDTRACK: CHICANO BATMAN-“Pink Elephant” (2019).
I really liked Chicano Batman’s song “Friendship (is a Boat in a Storm).” I liked its soft, chill vibe. It didn’t sound like chill music though–it had an air of soul and funk about it. I particularly enjoyed the organ sound.
They have a new album out and “Pink Elephant” is the first song I’ve heard from it.
This song is pretty peculiar even by their standards. There’s a cool loping bass line from Eduardo Arenas and an unusual guitar riff from Carlos Arévalo. The guitar is all high notes–like a solo, but playing a continual riff. The sounds don’t meld exactly, but neither do they sound bass. Bardo Martinez’ vocals are the same style of chill out vibe. There’s a lot going on and it’s really held together by Gabriel Villa’s drums.
The first time I heard this song I didn’t like it much, but subsequent listens have made it almost an earworm–so unusual and yet so catchy. I miss the organ of the earlier song which seemed to hold everything together better. No organ means it loses its psychedelic vibe, but it works really well as a different kind of song.
[READ: May 10, 2019] “Wet Spring”
I don’t know what made me look for a story from fifty years ago today, but here it is.
I’d never heard of Ivy Litvinov. She was an English-Russian writer who died in 1977. She wrote a couple of novels and a bunch of short stories. Ten were published in the New Yorker and all were collected in She Knew She Was Right except for this one.
This story was a pretty horrifying look at married life. I have to wonder how much of it was relatable fifty years ago and how much of it is just that the husband is an ass.
David and Theo were recently married (Theo is a woman, it’s not a progressive story). David intended not to get married until he was established as a painter. Theo was also a painter and planned to not get married until she was finished at the Slade (a fine arts school in London).
But mind and intentions suffered the usual defeat.
They met at a party, were married in the Spring and had a baby, Angela, by February. Neither had achieved their stated goals.
Their apartment was small and crowded with their art supplies.
Litvinov has a fascinating way with words. I don’t know if this story is translated or if it’s a Russian writer or if its just 1969, but
Bed had not come up to Theo’s expectations. Her mother told her this was often the case at first…but the memory of inconclusive hours spent on studio couches with Sam Hutton and afterwards in the woods with her cousin Richard that were complete fiascoes secretly disturbed her.
David wanted to paint her but she didn’t like his artists glare on her. So he painted his friend Phyllis instead.
Soon enough they decided to move out to where the could both paint with more room. David’s materials came first (Theo’s would be sent for later). The place was old an clumsy (especially for a couple with small baby) but David was inspired by the location and the surroundings.
He would wake at the break of day and go outside to paint, not returning until dark. He would come home, chilled to the bone (he painted outside all day). Then he would warm up and eat and then resume painting a portrait of Theo with the baby.
He was always cheerful, but she felt dragged down by the loneliness and the housework. She often gave him his high tea alone because she was too hungry to wait.
Theo stopped dressing up for David (it didn’t seem worthwhile strapping herself into a girdle and bra). And she was surprised to find that she was relieved on the nights when “the almost mandatory connubial rites were omitted.”
Indeed, she started looking around at other men. The grocer’s boy, the fish monger (too old and smelly) or the postman. The postman was older and maybe it was time for an older man.
One day the postman delivered the mail and David (who was inside because it was raining) grabbed the letters and looked peculiar at one of them. It was from Phyllis. She said it was probably for her, but he wouldn’t let her see it.
Then the notion dawned on her about David and Phyllis. Of course their relationship was something more. She accused David and he would not deny it.
I was blown away by this (both the sign of the times and the ballsiness of the statement). When their baby was born, David insisted that Phyllis be the first person to meet her. Theo had not like this especially because of Phyllis’ remark:
I hope you’re duly grateful to me, my dear, I stayed with David when all but me had fled, and sat holding his hand the whole night till the glad news came.
Wow.
Theo pondered what to do. She could take Angela and go live with her mother. Her mother would be delighted, but “the thought of her mother’s sympathy first brought tears to her eyes and then roused faint resentment.”
Or she could leave and let Phyllis look after David. But Theo would be damned if she was going to make it so easy for them.
David interrupted her thoughts asking how she could let such a little thing destroy their happiness [!].
She was shocked. Happy? Of course he was happy, he spent all day with his paintings, never taking notice of her.
He retorted that she was the self-absorbed one.
The subject returned to Phyllis and he again said it was nothing. He’d never mentioned it because he didn’t want to hurt her. And now Phyllis had sent this letter revealing all. David suggested they just throw it into the fire unread.
But Theo insisted they open it.
It was four postcards from a trip that Phyllis was on. She was thinking of them and wished the whole family love.
David said it ws nice of Phyllis to think of them, “you must send her one of the church at Storrington.”
Holy cow. Were readers as shocked by this in 1969 as I was in 2019? I can’t get over the attitude.
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