Featured Book Reviews Razorcake #101: Nails, The Difference Between, To Funk and Die in LA

Featured Book Reviews Razorcake #101

Featured Book Reviews Razorcake #101
Illustration by Jackie Rusted

Nails

By MP Johnson, 77 pgs.

For the record, MP Johnson is a Razorcake contributor, although I’ve never met her. She normally writes in the world of bizarro fiction, a cult genre of the weird that made me wonder if I would like Nails. She assured her followers this short book was different from her normal writing—much more personal.

I’ve been interested in seeing Johnson change over the past year or two as she has more openly addressed her attempts to accept her gender. While I don’t have personal knowledge with it, my observation has been that transitioning can be an incredibly hard experience. Johnson opens a window to it with these seventy-seven pages.

The story takes place over the course of a few days in Los Angeles. By herself, away from friends and family, it’s a place she can feel safe (so to speak) to crossdress and explore who she is. Johnson goes to a Damned concert, gets her nails done, eventually meets a dominatrix, and has many a misadventure along the way. There were so many times I felt empathetic to everything which befell her. Johnson’s ability to draw the reader into her tale says a lot about her writing.

Speaking of that, for anyone who thinks authors in the world of bizarro fiction can’t write, I’d suggest they read Nails. Johnson’s prose sets the reader in the scene even with its edgier moments. I came across scenes where I cringed at the brutal description (if I ever have to shave my asshole I’m going to be sooo careful) but the fact that it did so is a sign of Johnson’s talent.

Nails is not an easy read. I felt sad through most of it—while I can’t relate to experiences with gender issues, I could understand the sentiment of loneliness and how crushing it is. Johnson has her experiences but they’re relatable and interesting (if sometimes embarrassing), which shows a great talent of a writer. The ability to pull at my heartstrings and make a unique tale universal is incredible. Despite its lack of happiness, the raw honesty makes Nails one of the best books I’ve read in a long time. I can’t recommend it highly enough. –Kurt Morris (Lazy Fascist Press, lazyfascistpress.com)

Difference Between, The

By Billy McCall, 140 pgs.

This book may be my new favorite thing. It’s such a simple idea, but works so well. Billy McCall takes various things (Ice Cube and Ice T, empathy and sympathy, herbs and spices) that sound similar or are often confused, and explains the difference. I learned so much reading The Difference Between. There were many times I said, “Yeah! I always get those confused!” McCall’s explainations are quick, easy-to-understand, and occasionally humorous (Palm Springs and Palm Beach, for example).

This is not a diss, but I can totally see this book being for sale at Urban Outfitters. It’s smaller in size (approximately 4” x 5”) and each person/place/thing is given a page with an illustration, so it makes for a quick read. The Difference Between is a great idea for some toilet reading or a white elephant gift as the holidays approach. Highly recommended and for six bucks it’s worth the price. –Kurt Morris (iknowbilly@gmail.com)


Henry & Glenn Forever + Ever: Completely Ridiculous Edition

By Tom Neely, Igloo Tornado, 320 pgs.

This book is a ridiculously well designed tribute to the power of a brilliant, stupid idea. The basic concept is of a “what if?” which imagines if Henry Rollins and Glenn Danzig were a couple who happened to be neighbors with satanic occultists, Hall & Oates. I remember first running across the original sixty-page Henry & Glenn Forever indy comic around 2010 and thought it good for a chuckle. I hadn’t realized Tom Neely and the Igloo Tornado art collective had been hammering away at the concept ever since so that now there is enough material to assemble a 320-page hardcover book.

This book stands as a testament to icon building. The whole concept works because Henry Rollins and Glenn Danzig are such singular personalities that they transcend music and become pop culture figures. It’s safe to assume most punk, hardcore, or metal fans probably have some opinion on Henry Garfield and/or Glenn Anzalone, and probably only half the time is it related to their music. Part of the charm of the comics is the repeated use of imagery linked to Henry and Glenn to create a visual joke or advance a plot point. For instance, the photo that surfaced of Danzig leaving a grocery store with a box of kitty litter gets more than a few references. And one of L.A.’s most infamous (sadly gone) music landmarks, Glenn’s pile of bricks, is almost its own character. Henry and Glenn are such well-defined men of extreme passions, the mundane nature of buying cat litter, or as the comics propose, engaging in petty domestic squabbles, causes cognitive whiplash. It’s somehow easier to buy that Danzig confers with supernatural forces, or that Henry Rollins would go barefoot across an active war zone to record shop than it is to imagine the two of them having to deal with everyday relationship problems and chores like regular people.

The book is also a love letter to comics as an art. There are serialized action stories, short form jokes that take just a panel or two, and a ton of tribute art imagining Glenn and Henry in every form of comic art form throughout history. These include lovingly rendered takes of Henry and Glenn as golden age superheros, Archie-style teen romance comedies, ill-proportioned Rob Liefield super soldiers, and even Hernandez Brothers indy comics.

The book isn’t one hundred percent hits. Sometimes the artists or writers cop out with insultingly lazy gay stereotype jokes (looking at you “Going to Gaydes”). It’s perhaps inevitable there will be questionable entries when the concept at the heart of the entire endeavor is subverting two of punk’s most famously masculine men by throwing them together as a domestic couple. Maybe the true art is that the concept is usually handled somewhat skillfully. –Adrian Salas (Microcosm Publishing, 2752 N Williams Ave., Portland OR, 97227, microcosmpublishing.com / I Will Destroy You Comics, iwilldestroyyou.com)


Punk Women, Volume One

By David Ensminger, 98 pgs.

Ensminger tells the reader right off the bat that this is a collection of profiles of women in punk written by a cis white male. He instantly outs himself as not unqualified, but as a champion of these overlooked stories who carries with him an awareness as to not come off as an expert on a life not lived by him. As soon as I finished reading the book, I went right back to that introduction to see if he accomplished what he set out to do.

Yes, this is a hodge-podge of genres (hardcore, punk, thrash, metal), as well as a varied group spanning many races, backgrounds, and LBGTQ women. There were a ton of bands I wasn’t familiar with, but I feel like all I got was a generalized review of their music. Sometimes (The Voids for example) Ensminger wouldn’t mention the woman whatsoever in his quick blurb about their music. It left me feeling like I’d read a few hundred words about the career of a band just because there’s a woman in it.

I suppose there is a tactic in simply normalizing the gender diversity, though his mission statement was to shine a light on these women and I think in some excerpts he fell just short. His voice and writing style is very cerebral and academic, which I much enjoyed. However, there were only a handful out of the many, many profiles that included an actual interview and it left me feeling like these women’s voices were still overlooked. What I really hoped for were personal stories from these musicians. I realize that’s quite the undertaking, but I think Ensminger has the drive to do so.

There was Mel Hell from Zipperneck who suffered from nerve damage inflicted from her dentist in 2011 and I learned so much about her life—coping with constant, debilitating pain yet still carrying on with life the best she could. Or the story of Osa Atoe coming up with the D.C. punk scene and assuming all punk was political at its core, leading to her being an activist today.

There were a few times where I didn’t know where or when bands were from, and others when I was completely immersed in the life of the woman profiled. I think this book is suffering a bit from being overzealous and not dedicating enough time to each subject. For volume two, maybe reach out for at least a comment or two when possible? Though I overall enjoyed this, I will knock the author one coveted punk point for getting a Blondie song wrong (“Rip Her to Shreds”—not “Tear”). Even if I’m being a little harsh, I am very happy a project like this exists and would recommend grabbing one of the four hundred copies out there. –Kayla Greet (Left Of The Dial Books)


Roots, Radicals and Rockers: How Skiffle Changed the World

By Billy Bragg, 431 pgs.

What’s your first thought when you hear the word “skiffle”? A word that Microsoft Word doesn’t recognize? Before reading Billy Bragg’s history of the not firmly defined musical genre, my first thought was always Lonnie Donegan’s novelty song “Does Your Chewing Gum Lose Its Flavor on the Bedpost Overnight,” which I probably first heard on the Dr. Demento radio show. I knew the Beatles started as a skiffle band, but more or less thought skiffle was something young musicians did until they figured out how to make girls think of sex.

Roots, Radicals and Rockers directed my attention to Lonnie Donegan’s version of “Frankie & Johnny,” to which I direct your attention—it has to be the most sexual song of England’s 1950s, and accordingly, inspired hundreds of British teenagers to take up their first guitars. And now I get skiffle.

In Bragg’s history, skiffle is a long, cylindrical magnet that stretches from the middle of the nineteenth century to the middle of the twentieth, attracting moments in history from the dawn of the American railroad to the explosion of post-war British youth culture. It’s a feast of learning.

Bragg’s voice is conversational, but the conversation is business-casual, not as with, say, Sarah Vowell’s voice—her readers are friends, Bragg’s readers are co-workers.

And if you’ve never heard “Midnight Special” by Lead Belly—and apparently that’s the proper spelling of his name, not “Leadbelly” or “LeadBelly”—listen to that, too. Most of rock music, including your favorite punk song, comes from it. I would not have realized that without Bragg’s book. (I also didn’t know what the Midnight Special was, and now I do.) –Jim Woster (Faber & Faber, faber.co.uk)


Stranded in the Jungle: Jerry Nolan’s Wild Ride—A Tale of Drugs, Fashion, the
New York Dolls, and Punk Rock

By Curt Weiss, 280 pgs.

My second punk rock obsession after Never Mind the Bollocks was the New York Dolls’ self-titled album. “Personality Crisis” is a near-perfect encapsulation of teenage hormones firing in ten different directions at once, in a way that was sloppy, aggressive, sexy, and a little dangerous. Fairly or not to the other band members though, my fandom never went much beyond an obsession with Johnny Thunders and a fascination with the fact that David Johansen was also “Hot Hot Hot” Buster Poindexter. Curt “Lewis King” Weiss definitely put his research work in, and the result is a comprehensive and enlightening read on Jerry Nolan, whose drumming with the New York Dolls and the Heartbreakers put him actively in the eye of the New York punk storm since the very beginning.

True to the biography’s subtitle, Nolan was a consummate thrift shop fashion plate whose ear for stylish ‘50s rockers like early Elvis and Eddie Cochran in his youth informed his belief in the power of slick personal presentation on stage (or “profilin”). Perhaps the biggest musical influence in Nolan’s life, though, is jazz drummer and band leader Gene Krupa. Weiss brings just enough analysis of technique to the table to tease out subtleties and illuminate facets of Jerry’s craft behind the drums without slipping into pedantics. Nolan’s Pre-Dolls and Heartbreakers career is traced all the way from his early teenage garage bands in Lawton, Okla., to his first recorded bands in the late ’60s, Peepl and Maximillian, who attempted to ride the wave of psychedelia that emerged in the wake of Jimi Hendrix. Along the way, Jerry had a drive for true fame that was constantly just slightly out of his reach, but exacerbated by people he came across in his life, like his childhood best friend Peter Criss and a dalliance with young Bette Middler.

Unfortunately, like many of these early punk stories, heroin might as well get second billing. By the time of the New York Dolls, Jerry was a daily heroin and methadone user. Nolan’s and Thunders’ bromance, while producing some amazing music, was also quite likely a slow death sentence for both of them, as the rest of their lives became about copping above all else. The book doesn’t shy away from Jerry’s dark side. He was unquestionably an asshole on many levels. While he engaged in the standard rock star tropes like womanizing and becoming a controlling egoist, there were also some tendencies of his that really went beyond, such as his stubbornly ingrained racist attitudes (despite being friends with many people of color), and the eagerness with which he and Johnny Thunders took in introducing people to heroin. For many early punks though, sketchy behavior is often par for the course, so hopefully most people are smarter than to look towards them as role models.  –Adrian Salas (Backbeat Books, 33 Plymouth St. Suite 302, Montclair, NJ 07042, backbeatbooks.com)

To Funk and Die in LA

By Nelson George, 280 pgs.

Based on the title, I wasn’t sure I could take To Funk and Die in LA seriously. I’m glad I dug in and tried my best to approach it with an open mind, though, because it paid off. This mystery, part of the D Hunter series by Nelson George, finds the protagonist primarily in the Los Angeles neighborhoods of Koreatown, Crenshaw, and Pico-Union. D’s grandfather was, it seemed, a relatively innocuous grocery store owner. But after his grandfather’s murder, D comes to find out he was heavily enmeshed in illegal activities and had a connection with a reclusive R&B legend, Dr. Funk.

It may seem odd to have a murder mystery reviewed in a music zine, but George’s knowledge of the L.A. music scene—specifically that of the 1980s funk, hip hop, and R&B scenes—is massive. (This shouldn’t be a surprise, since, as a music journalist, he’s been writing about R&B for over thirty-five years.) He seamlessly weaves fictional characters such as Dr. Funk in with Prince and A Tribe Called Quest. He also namedrops Black Flag and NWA along the way. In fact, this book is almost as much about music as it is about a murder. Even though I don’t know much about the black music scene of L.A., it didn’t matter. The characters talked about music not as encyclopedias but as true fans, a way in which they can elucidate their love without appearing annoying.

George writes short chapters, which urged me to not want to put the book down. His characters are realistic and relatable while also being unique. The protagonist, D Hunter, is a black man who is HIV positive. The book teems with blacks, Koreans, and Latinos, especially Salvadorans and Mexicans. There was nary a white person in To Funk and Die in LA, and, as a white person, I wouldn’t have it any other way. The opportunity to experience a different culture with individuals unlike myself is what helps expand my mind.

In addition to being a mystery, these 280 pages are a look at the cultural landscape of Los Angeles and how it has changed over the years. Exposed are the relationships of blacks against Koreans and Latinos against blacks as demographics shifted over the decades. George writes about the changes in the city without being heavy-handed; it comes across in dialogue and realizations but still makes its point.

Reading this book reminded me how much I enjoy mysteries. So much so, in fact, that I’m going to check out the other books in this series from my library. I’d recommended To Funk and Die in LA for mystery fans, Los Angelenos, and connoisseurs of hip hop, R&B, rap, and the like—it’s an engaging, enlightening read. –Kurt Morris (Akashic, 232 Third St. Suite A115, Brooklyn, NY 11215)

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