What was the last book you bought?

Over at SF Signal, they ask the same question. Thought I'd like to see what y'all say, mainly since my choices are crime related.

For me, it was actually three books, all used and found in a nice little bookstore, Books Abound, in Cypress, TX:

Stolen Woman - Wade Miller
Guilty Bystander - Wade Miller
Homicidal Lady - Day Keene

All three books are by authors I first was introduced to via Hard Case Crime. Branded Woman, Wade Miller's HCC entry, is one of my favorite books HCC has ever published. My review of Keene's Home is the Sailor is here.

New Allan Guthrie Cover Art

Remember how I gushed about reading my first Allan Guthrie novel, Kiss Her Good-bye? Well, it turns out that a gentleman in Finland likes the book, too. Juri Nummelin is going to start hand-picking novels for a new line of paperbacks a la Hard Case Crime...but in Finland. And, the cool thing: there will be new cover art. Check out the cover painting for Kiss Her Good-bye by an artist named Ossi Hiekkala. It's a nice but different take on the events of Guthrie's book.

Chicago's Stone of Sisyphus: I OWN It!

I've had a cassette copy since 1995 (I had to pay postage and give up my original Chicago VIII LP complete with the iron-on transfer). I bought the foreign compilation CDs where some of these songs appeared. I paid for a CD version in 1999. I downloaded the various versions on the internet since 2000.

But there is nothing, nothing, like going to a store (Target) and finding a legal compact disc, picking it up, and holding it. That's why I chose not to download it from iTunes (my new normal way of buying music). I actually had to look for it. There were only two copies and I got one. I made sure the other copy was prominently displayed.

I told the check-out lady about it. I ripped off the plastic covering before I left the store. The grin did not leave my face all the way to the car...

Treason at Hanford as a Word Cloud

My friend, Doug Warren, sent me a link to Wordle, a very cool site that allows you to paste in text and its engine will create a word cloud. I put in my first novel, Treason at Hanford. This is the result.

Justice in H-Town, Chapter 2

Chapter 2 of Justice in H-Town is online now over at Texas Pulp Writer. Enjoy.

Tim Russert: R. I. P.

I have always been a political junkie of sorts. I can remember our vacation in 1980 because it was during the GOP convention. In 1984, in Fairbanks, Alaska, I watched the Democratic convention. And I've always been an NBC man. Well, let's put it this way: when you're a kid, you are what your parents are and they were NBC folks: David Brinkley (before the jump to ABC), Tom Brokaw, John Chancellor, Roger Mudd, Robert Bazell (science), and more.

By the time I got to college and discovered that there were news programs on Sunday morning (I was always in church), I naturally gravitated to "Meet the Press." By the time I got there, Tim Russert was already sitting in that chair. Once I learned about Sunday morning news shows, I was quite happy to have a VCR because I would tape "Face the Nation" and "This Week" and always watch "Meet the Press" live. Why was that? Because of Tim Russert.

If there was one thing you got from Tim Russert it was enthusiasm. There were times when he would just be giddy with excitement at an interview. Other commentators were as competent and they delivered the news with aplomb. But it was the giddiness that distanced Russert from the crowd.

During these past two presidential cycles (2000 and 2004), I took great joy in listening to Russert's predictions as election night wore on. And, in the age of whiz-bang visuals, there was Russert, white board and marker in hand, erasing and writing new numbers in Bush's or Gore's column. There's something to be said for a guy who uses such a low key presentation style. It's the information that matters, not the medium.

I think what got Russert so giddy all the time was he realized that he was an active participant in history. He loved history. If you doubted that, all you had to do was watch his CNBC program where he sat down opposite a person--usually someone who had written a book--and just talked. Sure, there were questions but you got the sense that you were the fly on the wall just listening to a couple of people talk shop.

Every night when I watch Brian Williams tell me the news, I'm usually home and in the process of preparing dinner or talking with my family about how their day went. The house is usually noisy at these times. But when Williams would turn to Russert--with his long introduction, "Washington managing editor and moderator of Meet the Press--the house got a little quieter. That was either as a result of me shushing the family or me turning up the volume on the TV, thus quieting the family. Either way, Russert's baritone voice boomed across the screen, giving us all just a little bit extra.

Tonight, and this Sunday, things will be quiet. It will a quiet of a different kind. Sure, there will be another moderator for Meet the Press. Sure, there will be another Washington managing editor for NBC News. But they won't be Russert. For all the warmth that Williams exudes when reading the news, no one quite had Russert's enthusiasm.

That is what I'm going to miss the most. Enthusiasm. Politics are important. Sure, they can be mundane, but it's important. It's an essential component for our nation and our government. You always got the sense that Russert knew that and was just excited that he had a role to play. And play it he did.

One last thing about Russert's enthusiasm: every time you watched him, even this past primary season that went on for five months, you always saw Russert smiling. For lots of us, we chagrined when Super Tuesday or some other primary contest didn't resolve the Democratic race. Russert was grinning. He was loving it. Secretly, he'd probably admit to hoping for a brokered convention just to cover it. You always got the sense that he was pinching himself, constantly trying to discover if he was dreaming. Surely, he might have thought, I must be dreaming because I have an awesome job.

Little did we know that we should have been pinching ourselves. Surely, we might have thought, we must have been dreaming these wonderful years since 1991 when Russert became the moderator of Meet the Press because such a wonderful, intelligent, and, yes, enthusiastic guy was sitting in that chair. Unfortunately, this coming Sunday, we're going to realize that we were not dreaming. It was real. Tim Russert was real.

Man. Am I going to miss him this fall. We all will.

Stone of Sisyphus on Amazon Charts

Okay, I am not delusional. Come 17 June, the biggest CD released will be Coldplay's new record. Heck, I'm going to buy it from iTunes that day, too. I like the new tune quite a bit.

But, as of today, Chicago's "Stone of Sisyphus" is #138 on the Amazon Music Sales chart. #138! From a band that most people go "They're still around?" And, get this, Stone of Sisyphus is #80 on the *Rock* chart. Not Adult Contemporary, not Oldie, but Rock! Boo-Yeah!

The Future Great Genre Writers...Who Are They Now?

While this blog has pretty much evolved into a crime fiction blog, I do still love SF. Over at SFSignal, there is a great post asking this question: Who Are the Tomorrow's Big Genre Stars? Check it out.

This, of course, brings up the question that would make it pertinent to crime fiction: Who are Tomorrow's Big Genre Stars for Crime Fiction? On my short list are folks whose books I have read or whose blogs I read regularly:

Christa Faust
Duane Swierczynski
Allan Guthrie
Charlie Huston
Megan Abbott

Who are your choices?

I have two friends, Doug Warren and Victoria Graydale, who I'd like to see on various lists of the future.

And, of course, I want my name on that list. We'll just have to see. It takes actual stories and books to make that list. Guess I'd better start producing faster...

Three Authors

Over at Crime Fiction Dossier, David J. Montgomery poses a question: Who are the three authors whose work you would miss the most if they stopped writing? You'll have to jump to his site to see his answers. Here are mine:

George Pelecanos - He has written 14 novels and I just wolf down whatever he publishes. I'm in the enviable position when you find a new author in that you read the new stuff as it comes out and get to sample older works at my own personal pace. If Dennis Lehane set the hook, Pelecanos was the fishing line that dragged me into this fantastic world of crime fiction.

Elmore Leonard - I have only read about 4 of his books. The Hot Kid was fantastic: a western pulp yarn with a U.S. Marshall as the lead protagonist. I have purchased all his westerns and gulped down Valdez is Coming and Hombe in four days ove Thanksgiving 2006. I put him on the list for what he has written...and that I have yet to read.

Christa Faust - I have only read one of her books (Money Shot, read my review) but it's my favorite book of the year so far. I put her on the list because of all the future books she'll write.

My honorable mention goes to Dennis Lehane without whom I probably would not be reading any crime fiction. It was Mystic River that caused me to take a nibble. It was the Kenzie/Gennaro series, particularly the first two (A Drink Before the War and Darkness, Take My Hand) that set the hook.

And these are just the crime fiction authors.

How about y'all?

The View from Mars

I don't remember it but I was alive Christmas of 1968. About three weeks old. Thus, I didn't get to see the images Apollo 8 sent back to Earth. It was the first time humans saw our home planet from somewhere else other than low-earth orbit. Here is one of the photos.

Now comes the view from Mars. And this time, the Moon's along for the ride. Is that not just awe-inspiring, humbling, and a little bit lonely all at the same time.

Music Review: Stone of Sisyphus by Chicago

When the seven guys formed the band that became Chicago, they had a mandate: create a sound that was a rock band with horns. And they did. Brilliantly. As I mentioned in this post about Chicago III, the first five years of their recorded output, Chicago walked the tightrope between longer pieces and radio-friendly shorter songs. Artistic craftsmen that they were, they knew how to write the three-minute pop song with the best of them. And, obviously, as the hits kept piling up, the pressure from the record labels to write singles kept coming and coming. Then, when they had their first #1 hit, wouldn’t you know it was a ballad. From then on, for better or worse, Chicago became a ballad band. Sure, the fans knew the truth, but the casual radio audience (and the record executives) knew only one thing.

This kind of pressure had side effects. Outside writers were brought in to write a “Chicago ballad.” The horns became less of the fourth vocal component of the band’s sound and was relegated to the background, if they were even on certain songs. The composition of the band changed, whether through death or departure. Through it all, Chicago adapted. They made disco records that sounded pretty good. They incorporated the 1980s synth sound into their sound and moved forward. And, as good as those 1980s records were, some folks got the impression that their heart was not in it.

When Peter Cetera left the band in 1985, the second replacement guitarist, Chris Pinnick, also left. Into the band came two fresh faces, Jason Scheff (bass and vocals) and Dawayne Bailey (guitars). Bailey was something to behold to suburban teenagers like myself. He looked like something straight out of Woodstock and had the stage presence to boot. Plus, he shredded like Van Halen. So, for the teenagers in the 1980s who thought that Chicago 16 was the band’s first album and that Chicago only sang ballads, the live concerts showed another side. Once again, Chicago was a rock band with horns. Don’t think so? Try “25 or 6 to 4” (1989); “I Stand Up” (1989); or “Along Comes a Woman” (1990).

But on record, it was still the same old soulless thing everyone had come to expect. Until 1993.

In 1991, Chicago released Twenty-1. It was a typical 1980s Chicago record complete with saccharin ballads and good album cuts brimming over with horns. During that summer, I, like other die-hard fans, couldn’t wait to hear those songs live. They never came. In the pre-internet days, we didn’t know why the band didn’t perform any songs live. And the one song they did—“You Come to My Senses” on Arsenio Hall’s show—was subpar for the band. And that’s putting it nicely.

What we now know is that the members of Chicago had had enough. They wanted to make a record that *they* wanted to make, like they did back in 1971. And they found a producer, Peter Wolf, who shared their vision. In one interview, Walt Parazaider said that Wolf told him to bring all his woodwinds: all his saxes, flutes, clarinets. In that interview, Walt’s grin was huge. What was also huge was the enthusiasm within the band. You don’t believe me? Just listen.

The album that emerged was to be Chicago 22. It had heart and it had soul. The song “Stone of Sisyphus” kicks the socks off a lot of the material from the 1980s. Shoot, if you closed your eyes, you might even think that the seven young musicians called Chicago Transit Authority had transported forward from 1969 to 1993. Sappy love songs have fake emotions but I dare anyone to listen to the song “Bigger Than Elvis” and not get a lump in their throat. You see, Jason Scheff’s dad, Jerry, was the bass player for Elvis. Yeah, The Elvis. The song is about a young Jason watching TV, seeing his dad, and thinking it was his show.

Kick-butt rock songs and emotional ballads not enough for you? Well, how about funk? Mah-Jong, written by Jason Scheff but sung by the blue-eyed soul crooner Bill Champlin goes where no other Chicago song has gone before. And Jason really lets his bass playing shine here. Speaking of songs where no other Chicago song has gone before, how about rap? That’s right, rap. Granted, it ain’t Eminem or anything, but it’s Chicago does rap. And it doesn’t sound wrong. It sounds all right, too, to say nothing about the lyrics.

Lyrics. Remember back in the day when Chicago wrote songs wishing Richard Nixon would quit (“A Song for Richard and His Friends”), the plight of pollution (“Mother”), the burden of war (“Dialogue”) or the general dilapidated state of America (“What Is This World Comin' To?”)? Well, that’s okay. No one else does, either. They stopped recording those kinds of songs by the mid 70s. Sure, tunes like “We Can Stop the Hurtin’” surfaced every now and then but they were few and far between. Not on SOS. Those kinds of songs came roaring back, with “Cry for the Lost” and “All the Years.” The latter song has a bit of Chicago’s own history throughout the lyrics and, in a bridge section late in the song, a direct link back to their first record.

So happy were the guys of Chicago to be making a record they liked that they even penned a song lambasting the modern recording industry. “Plaid” told it like it was for all of us who didn’t know. It was like a shot across the bow that culminated with the iPod and downloadable music. Remember when I wrote that Walt was asked to bring in all his woodwind instruments? You got bass clarinet on this tune. Bass clarinet in a rock song! Can someone say Miles Davis and “Bitches Brew”?

When it was all said and done, all recorded and put on tape, the album that was to have been Chicago 22 had it all. They loved it, they were proud of it. They even decided to name the album “Stone of Sisyphus” instead of Chicago 22. It was to have been something different, something special. It was, to me, the most personal album Chicago had made since VII (when they basically made an LP for themselves [1st] and an LP for the radio [2nd]). SOS was also the most adventurous CD since VII. They were ready to redefine themselves as a rock band.

Give you one guess what the suits thought. Upon listening to this CD, the suits knocked Chicago to its knees. The suits shelved the CD because “it didn't sound like Chicago.” I bet these were the suits who thought 16 was Chicago’s first album. When the suits locked the demo tapes in a vault, never to be heard by anyone, some of Chicago’s heart and soul stayed in that vault. The band's reaction was where we are now. Dawayne left and, taking nothing away from his replacement, Keith Howland, Chicago ceased to be a *rock* band with horns.

The next two releases, Night and Day: Big Band, and Chicago 25 (The Christmas Album), demonstrated Chicago’s incredible talent for arranging and performing. The rest of the 1990s saw the release of two greatest hits packages and a live CD, each album coupled with two new songs. These songs were good, mind you, but were cut from the “now traditional Chicago sound” mold. None of the songs had the fire that SOS had.

The bootlegs began filtering out in the mid 1990s. I’ll admit that I acquired one. When some of the tracks made their way onto foreign CDs, I snatched those up, too. I did anything to get good sounding copies of these songs. And I took great joy, tremendous joy, in playing certain cuts of the album and asking people to guess who was singing. Even thought they knew me and my love of Chicago, they rarely guessed right. You see, Stone of Sisyphus was a unique album. It was an album by eight guys plus their producer making music that they liked. Not the suits. Not even their more recent fans. This was an album that lived and breathed freedom, the freedom they used to have back in the early days.

I still consider Chicago’s first two records to be their best. I put SOS at #3. It’s that good. And, with it being a bootleg, I could rarely share it with anyone other than to play songs in the car or at home. I never ever thought I’d get a chance to go to the store and buy an official copy of this monumental album.

Next week I can. And I will. And I hope you do, too. Let’s show all those suits that they made a mistake back in 1993. Chicago 22 was the return of the Rock Band With Horns mentality. Chicago 22 may not have burned up the charts but the music was real. It was honest. It had heart. It had soul.

Isn’t that what we want from our music anyway?