The Daily Tar Hel
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On Records
Bruce Brooks
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Thursday. December 9. 1971
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I hope that this list may provide or aid
ideas for holiday reading andor giving by
calling attention to several new
paperbacks I have found superior.
"Doctor Faustus" by Thomas Mann
(Vintage, S2.45). This'is a new paperback
publication, being heretofore available
only in The Modern Library. The story of
a composer, the novel is an epic part of
Mann's man-art continuum with the usual
result that ramification on its content
eventually relates one half of all
experience to the other. Mann's genius is
technically exhaustive and thematically
exhausting.
"Remembrance of Things Past" by
Marcel Proust (Vintage, approx. $1.95
apiece for 7 vols.). The very first
complete paperback edition of Proust's
magnum novel of Paris, Love, and Time;
also the only current American
'Pooh' set
end season
"Pooh and Company," the Carolina
Readers' final production of the semester,
premieres tonight at H p.m. in 103
Bingham for a two-day run.
Performances Friday will be 4:30 and
H p.m. Admission is 50 cents for adults
and students and 25 cents for children.
"Pooh and Company," adapted from
A. A. Milne's stories of Winnie-the-Pooh
and directed by Candy Carter, features
four of Milne's stories, which deal with
Pooh, the personified stuffed bear, (Sara
Brooks), and his friends: Tigger (Jan
Stafford), Piglet (Karen Dimling), Leyore
(Mary Ruflin), Roo (Julie Davis) and
Rabbit (David llolden).
The production format uses a narrator
(Harriet Cherberg) telling stories to
Christopher Robin (Chan Hardwick).
Other productions by the Carolina
Readers this semester were "Boy, Girl,
Boy, (iiil," "Roman Fever," and "Corn
Squeezin's and Wry.""
Faculty advisor Dr. Howard Doll and
president Kim Coburn are now accepting
scripts for next semester's Readers
Theatre season. They also invite students
and townspeople to join the group next
semester.
publication of Proust. One of the greatest
of all works, its surface density and
patient complexity are worthy of
worship, to say nothing of its amazing
beauty. C.K. Scott Moncriefs translating
skill has made Proust's brilliance
accessible for English readers; this is
among the best prose I have ever read.
"El Aleph" by Jorge-Luis Borges
(Bantam, $1.95). One of the least-noted
and most deserving figures of
contemporary world literature, Borges
has published this volume especially for
English readers in his own translation.
For that point alone it is quite important,
but its content is even more satisfying
than this academic appreciation. The
brevity of Borges' stories are not just
examples of skillful distilling, but also
illustrations of the richness of moments.
Included is a fine and indispensable
autobiography previously unpublished.
"Inside the Third Reich" by Albert
Speer (Avon, SI. 95). This book must be
read with pre-acceptance of the fact that
it proves: Adolf Hitler was not the only
interesting Nazi. Speer has written mostly
about himself and the Reich, so this isn't
another simple inside view of Hitler's
fascination. It is a satisfying saga of
Speer's life and the Reich's workings and
personalities. Its personal view is the
cause of this: Speer has tried to be no
more than one man, and so for once we
have no compulsive over-theories about
the cause of Naziism.
"Radical Chic, and Mau-Mauing the
Flak-Catchers" by Tom Wolfe (Bantam,
$1.25). Tom Wolfe is probably the best
contemporary American writer, and
essays like these two earn him such
hyperboles. Here are two examinations of
interracial-class clashes in which the
Whites desperately seize defeat. No Black
could be proud of such sloppy victories,
but who needs pride along with and
squashed honkies? Very funny, very
perceptive, very important.
"The Rolling Stone Interviews" by the
Editors of Rolling Stone (Paperback
Library, $1.50). Here are 17 often
revealing interviews with the leaders of
rock music. Frequently the talk of the
stars is disappointingly unfantastic for
those who expect Chuck Berry to talk
like Frank Zappa; but it is always at least
interesting to find out the secret-origins
type of esoterica. There is much musical
thought laid down here, and we are
seldom shown that the musicians do not
deserve the fabulous success they have
had.
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by Norman Draper
San tana Columbia KC 30595
Santana's structuring of a rock tur.e
has generally followed this basic formula:
take some speed freak, metallic-sounding
lead guitar nffs, back them up with the
vibrato-ridden chordal underpinnings of
an organ, and let the percussionists go
wild in the background. Add a Little
ethnic flavor and plenty cf interspersed
solos to all this and you get the
archetypal Santana sound that has
succeeded so well on such numbers as
Leaven Cabal
6Ba
"Persuasion." "Hope You're Feeling
Better." and "Gypsy Queen "
Yet such a formula earned to the
repetitive extreme has resulted in
Santana's third album - an album that,
despite a few exciting moments, reeks of
monotonous uniformity and
pseudo-exoticr.ess. Santana has fallen into
the "Latin-rock rut" - a syndrome that
threatens to destroy their capacity for
making hot. innovative music.
The attempt to make this album a
successful blend of heavily percussive
Chicano music and modern American
rock fails. It becomes syptomatic of thf
affectedness and self-indulgences that are
becoming characteristic faults of Santana.
Side one of this album is awful - no
redeeming qualities whatsoever. "Batuka"
and "Taboo" both hint strongly of
Hendrix. just as "Jurgie Strut" (on side
two) bears a striking resemblance to the
Allman Brothers' "In Memory of
Elizabeth Reed."
"Taboo" is a weak attempt at a sort of
exotic dre3m effect" song. It loses hands
down in companion with something hke
Hendrix's "Little Wine" and "One Rainv
nana,
frag
menteo.
The best moments in Woody Allen's
"Bananas," and there are a number of
them, rank with the best of any American
comedian now working in film. Allen,
who directed, co-wrote and starred in the
film, knows how to seize on the familiar
patterns of everyday living and, as Elaine
May or Carl Reiner often do, inject just
enough of the totally absurd to
thoroughly devastate them.
Unfortunately, he is unable to make a
movie, and although the "moments"
alone make seeing the film worthwhile,
one leaves the theater wishing Allen had
devoted as much time to his plot and
pacing as he did to the individual gags.
"Bananas" begins with the
assassination of the President of a small
Latin American nation. Narrating the
scene for ABC's Wide World of Sports is
Howard Cosell, who treats the event as
though it were arranged purely for the
entertainment of ABC's viewing audience.
The humorous juxtaposition of Cosell's
familiar style with the rather iolent
assassination falters at moments, perhaps
because we are just not ready yet to take
assassinations quite that lightly, but the
idea is good, and the scene is a bright and
irreverent beginning.
The character Al'en plays, part
schlemiel and part schnook, is nothing
new to anyone familiar with his work.
Trying to inconspicuously purchase a
Tomographic magjzine. Fielding Mellish
(Allen) places copies of Time. Newsweek.
Saturday Review and Harpers on top of
his choice - only to hear the cashier yell
across the store. "Hev Ralph, how much
is ORGASM?"
Although the film is neither consistent
nor serious-minded enough to be called a
satire, it does contain frequent satiric
flourishes. Allen takes pot shots at movie
conventions (Mellish actually hears the
stylized musical score and locates it in his
closet where a harpist is practising): at
literary pretensions ("It was pithy," the
girlfriend says about a book, "it had great
HBOBffi
10
S
The School of Dance
of the North Carolina School of the Arts
presents
TIL-HP33
nit
NUTCRACKER
Page Auditorium Duke University
7:30 p.m. Tuesday, Dec. 14th
All Seats Reserved -$2.50, $2.00,31.50
MATINEE - 3:30 Tuesday, Dec. 14th
Children, grades 1-6, $1 Adults$2
f
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1965
1966
1967
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1971
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pith"); and at television advertising (a
priest suggests New Testament cigarettes
to a man choking on a wafer; "I smoke
them; He smokes them").
But the satire is too wide-ranging to
have any real impact, and when the
fragments don't work comically, as in a
dinner scene in which the President and
others begin debating the bill, they
simply don't work at all. The scene
changing from Latin American to New
York is confusing, and the story, instead
of providing an opportunity for
cumulative development, serves merely as
a loose framework for Allen's gags.
Wish." Grrg Robe's misused vocils add
to the feehr.g cf prerumptuou.$r.e that
surrounds this song. "No One to Depend
On" is just as slow and cumbersome as its
progenitor. "Evil Wiys."
Side two starts out promising.
"Everybody's Evervthing." a number
that's been getting plenty cf AM airplay
recently, really moves (thanks in part to
the borrowed Tower of Power brass
section). Gregg Robe's rough, scratchy
voice is perhaps the strongest point in
Santana's favor. Here his vocals, which
are kept to a minimum on the rest of the
album, are strong and relentlessly soulful.
Dave Brown, who has never struck me as
being a particularly skilled bassist, has
some conspicuous nffs on this track that
are quite impressive.
The rest of side two is. to put it
mildly, disappointing. "Guajira."
probably the worst cut on the album,
sounds like a band of electrified manachis
experimenting with jazz a la Brubeck and
Ellington. Ordinarily, this would be
laughable, but almost six minutes of such
garbage is unbearable. Two songs that
really take off at the beginning. "Para Los
Rumberos" and "Jungle Strut," become
nothing more than the blase sequels tc
"Soul Sacrifice" - that monstrous
Santana instrumental of repetitive
rhythms and dragging solos.
Santana is a good group with a terrible
penchant for replicating everything
they've done, good and bad. This new
album is little more than a rehash, with
some sparse and disastrous attempts at
experimentation. Santans was. is. and
always will be Santana - the same old
group doing the same old thing.
rs
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