SOUNDTRACK: ANNE BOURNE-“Evangeline” (Moose: The Compilation, 1991).
Back in the 1990s, it was common to buy a compilation or soundtrack or even a band’s album based on one song. Only to then find that you didn’t really like anything else on it.
Maybe that single sounded like nothing else on the album. Maybe the movie was almost entirely one genre, but they had that one song that you liked over the credits. Or maybe the compilation was for something but a song you really wanted was on it, too.
With streaming music that need not happen anymore. Except in this case.
I bought this compilation, used, recently exclusively for one song, Rheostatics’ “Woodstuck.” It’s a goofy song and this is the only place you can get the studio version. The actual compilation was not well documented, so I didn’t know what the other bands on it might sound like. It turns out to be a compilation for Ontario based Moose Records which specialized in Rock, Folk, World & Country. They put out another compilation in 1992 and that’s all I can find out about them.
This is one of my favorite songs on this record (that’s not the Rheostatics song). The song is deep and low with a cool rumbling bass and drum pattern. Anne Bourne’s voice is deep and intense and generates a wonderful slow burn.
Maybe I like it because Don Kerr, a future Rheostatic, plays cello on it.
Interestingly, there is an Anne Bourne who is a Canadian cello player. I have to assume it’s the same person, but it’s very hard to tell. If it is, she has played on a huge number of great Canadian albums by Cowboy Junkies, Ron Sexsmith, Sloan, Jane Siberry and Loreena McKennit.
[READ: July 29, 2019] “The Little King”
Salman Rushdie obviously has a reputation as being a cryptic writer who is hard to read–deserved from The Satanic Verses, but otherwise rather unfounded. Especially when you read a story like this.
This two-pronged story is about two men, distantly related, who couldn’t be more different. The first man that we meet is obsessed (like really obsessed) with the Indian talk show host Salma R. The other man is Dr. R.K. Smile, the world-renowned creator of a tremendous pain reliever called InSmile.
The first man had no real friends. The only thing he wanted to do was obsess over Salma R. He had never met her but he characterized what they had as love. He even christened himself Quichotte for Don Quichotte and resolved to be her beloved knight-errant. Everyone who heard of his plans tried to dissuade him–even people he friended on Facebook told him it was terrible idea. And this is where Rushdie proves that he is not a snobby writer
In response to his posts there were frown emojis and Bitmojis wagging fingers at him reprovingly and there were GIFs of Salma R. herself crossing her eyes, sticking out her tongue and rotating a finger by her right temple all of which added up to the universally recognized set of gestures meaning “cray cray.”
Quichotte worked in pharmaceutical sales for his wealthy cousin, the very R. K. Smile mentioned above. Dr. Smile was hugely successful and although he knew that Quichotte was a terrible employee, he felt that it was his duty to protect this layabout–lest he turn into a Willy Loman character. Since R.K. Smile’s business had recently taken off in a massive way–he was now officially a billionaire–he could easily afford to have an unproductive relative as an employee.
The bulk of the middle of the story now follows Dr Smile’s rise.
In the prosperous Indian community of Atlanta, Georgia, Dr. R. K. Smile was known as the Little King (and also as Little Big Hands by the younger women of the community).
He would often talk about how back home prescription medication was utterly dishonest. There were street corner dispensaries which would give out drugs after prescriptions had lapsed. They might also sell more than was needed “for convenience.” People would chuckle about this in reminiscence, but he would chastise them that it was no laughing matter.
The story reveals right away that his empire was going to crumble–Dr Smile’s fate is not the crux of he story. When it collapsed, people said it was like he was confessing to everyone about where he got the idea to do his crooked dealings.
Dr Smile was inspired back home in Bombay when a street urchin gave him a card that said “Are you alcoholic? We can help! Call this number for liquor home delivery.” He had kept that card ever since and founded his business model on it.
He shipped five million addictive opioid doses to a pharmacy in Kermit, West Virginia (Pop. 400) etc. He also hired only beautiful people–including strippers–to be his sales reps. As his name was being made he would host conventions and have doctors speak at them. Except the conventions would mysteriously get cancelled and the doctors were guaranteed their fees–exorbitant amounts of money that might make those doctors encourage their patients to try InSmile even if they didn’t need it.
Some of these doctors were investigated but Dr. Smile said he had nothing to do with it.
When Dr. Smile had finally heard about Quichotte’s increasingly weird behavior he decided he had to fire him–he couldn’t afford to have him on his staff anymore. He provided him with a steady amount of money to keep him solvent and said he would one day ask him for a favor. He had no intention of asking him for a favor, until circumstances gave him one.
It was well known that movie stars and celebrities were taking advantage of Dr Smile’s prescriptions (especially since OxyContin had changed its formula). Dr Smile loved celebrities–especially beautiful women–and he was actually deferential to them even though he was probably worth more than most of them.
Then he got word that an Indian movie star by the name of Salma R. was interested in his product. Well, maybe he could do something nice for his cousin and himself after all.
The end of the story is all about Quichotte and how he might possibly communicate with his beloved, the woman who was so out of his reach.
I really enjoyed this a lot and it makes me want to read some more of Rushdie’s books.
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