Personal
Letters Concerning Music
and Other Topics
Note: The dialog here is of course very informal; my comments here do not necessarily reflect my present thoughts. And, of course, the comments of my correspondents do not either. The letters are given because they are necessarily infused with my thinking and may throw a bit of light on it. I’ve also included some material on non-musical topics just for fun.
I will include other letters should I see fit, but most of the letters to me are from my brother Keith, and most of them from me are to him.
As background on Keith, he used to be the lead singer and guitarist in the seminal Montreal rock band Keith Strange and The Ulterior Motive (and I note that now there exists another band, in the States if I remember correctly, with the same name). A few of the songs he has written are still performed. His “Haunted House” appears on the album It Came from Canada #5, and “The Devil Likes Me” appears on the EP by Three O’Clock Train, Wig Wam Beach, performed by them. Their first two releases, Wig Wam Beach (EP) and Muscle In (LP), have recently been re-released on one CD by Justin Time Records in Montreal.
Keith is also a painter and cartoonist, and has an abiding interest in puppetry, especially Javanese shadow puppetry or “wayang kulit.” Finally, he is fascinated by the “Maria Monk affair” in Montreal history. These concerns of his account for many of the “non-musical” parts of our letters.
The letters from me and to me are given separately; I have presented the letters in each group chronologically, but I have not interleaved them. I may do this in the future, but I have a slow modem and computer, a combination that makes things difficult.
To Keith Rawlings
August 28, 1992:
Remember that easy-listening radio station you were forced to listen to at work that played the same music over and over again—CFQR? The one that I surprised you by saying I liked? Some of that music still haunts me. First on the list is James Last’s Music from Across the Way. You were the person who told me the title and enabled me to find Last’s version at least (that was on the same occasion that I surprised you with my revelation). But the version they used to play still echoes in me. A while ago I did hear it somewhere, and it sounded rather insipid in just that way many accuse New Age music of being, but I suspect it was just the contrast with the dramatic treatment given the tune by Last that I was now used to. I really would like to hear it again, and possibly buy it, but I guess it was playing over some store loudspeaker because I did not obtain information about the recording. Let me tell you a bit about it, in case you can help, and also because I like writing to you about things I find appealing in music!
The “verse” section was played mainly by a piano, in a rather loose, emotional manner—kind of sloppy in a good way. Then in the “chorus” there are three pick-up notes played by violins followed by a note or two on snare drum—and it always seemed to me that this note or two was so precisely placed, it had such an effect on me as I cannot describe or explain. And those violin notes “get” me, too. They seem to be saying, “And this is what the thing I have said on the piano means to me,” and what follows is poignant. And when the chorus is over, I find I want to hear the verse again, and when the verse is over, I thirst for those violin notes and that drum tap. I don’t seem to want it to end. This is true even of the Last version. On days when I am humming this tune to myself, I just go over it repeatedly until I tire of doing so.
Another record I liked was an instrumental version of Barry White’s “Love’s Theme.” The tune was a disco record in that decade, but I only learned to appreciate it as a melody after I had noticed that whenever I overheard it on Muzak, I was rather liking it. It has that “long-line” quality I’m always talking about. The tune is very familiar, you’ve heard it hundreds of times and probably think that you hate it, but next time remember what I’ve said here and perhaps you’ll hear it with new ears. It has an unusual, contrasting, punchy middle section that is very simple really, but just what I want to hear. Unfortunately I don’t know what orchestra does it (Is CFQR still on the air, and if so does it still play some of those old records?) but the version I am talking about is very often used as Muzak.
There was a version of something called “Wish Me a Rainbow,” a song I first heard on CFQR and then nowhere else for a decade. Then later I happened to find out (I forget how) that it was used in a movie called “This Property Is Condemned.” I duly wrote down this fact in my pocket notebook (I have about four or five such notebooks in which I was writing all manner of things for years and years until I realized that I rarely took any action on things after writing them down), telling myself to be on the lookout for that movie. Then about a year ago, I saw in the pay TV magazine that the movie was going to be broadcast. Then Gerri taped it, and I watched it. However, it was not the same version of the tune, and the movie turned out to be a depressing one by none other than Tennessee Williams! The version I had liked was sprightly and gay. I’d still like to find it.
August 29, 1992:
CFQR also played Barbra Streisand’s “Second-Hand Rose,” and a “march” version of Bizet’s “The Toreador Song,” both of which I enjoyed (don’t know whether I still would though).
September 3, 1992:
Found an article (enclosed) mentioning The Cramps—is that the band you’re interested in?
September 4, 1992:
Today I saw something that was very unusual, but that did not surprise me. I was on the train coming home talking to a coworker (that’s not someone who orks cows, but someone who works with me), when some kid that I couldn’t see was singing “One Fine Day” by the Chiffons, complete with “shoo-be-doo”s, out loud. It was obvious that the kid liked the record, which he probably heard on the radio or maybe his parents played it on the CD. One of the most appealing things about the record is how the “shoo-be-doos” interact with the lead: though both happen at the same time, each line of melody is absolutely clear, and the way they interact is mysteriously appealing. This, I think, is an example of Phil Spector’s genius at arranging and producing, which I’ve read a lot about. Another product of his is “Sweet-Talkin’ Guy,” which has a great oboe part that comes in at just the right moment! And I’ve never heard cellos used better on a popular record. (There is such beauty in popular art; I really think sometimes that the popular/serious distinction is untenable. Perhaps it is merely a matter of intention and style [not of quality].) As I left the train, I got a look at the kid and confirmed that, yes, he is very young (and male) and definitely not of my generation—he was about two or three years old.
September 7, 1992:
Bobby Curtola is in town. He appeared several times at the CNE, and so I had decided to go this year, but it didn’t work out. However, I did get to see him on the local portion of the Jerry Lewis Telethon. He’s the singer of “Hitchhiker,” “Fortune Teller,” “Destination Love,” and (my favorite) “Aladdin” (which I wrote to you at length about once).
September 29, 1992:
In one of my recent letters to you I refer to “a ‘march’ version of Bizet’s ‘The Toreador Song,’” but what I meant was a more lively or rhythmic version, because of course it is a march already.
October 24, 1992:
Went to D’Arcy’s father’s place and we made music—D’Arcy on bass, his father on keyboard, and me on electric guitar. Had fun. Then we joined Carol and went to Red Lobster.
November 2, 1992:
Got your letter last week. What a shock to read “Summer is here”! Oh, well, guess you’d been writing that letter for quite a while and got to feeling guilty when two arrived from me.
The Cramps sound interesting, but I don’t know a note of their music. I concur though, with the dates 1958 to 1964 (approximately) as the period containing some of my favorite music. It seems that so many of my favorite songs were, in fact, of 1961 vintage.
No, I did not know Pat Boone did “Speedy Gonzales.” Interesting. I love his “Moody River,” and I like “Love Letters in the Sand” and “April Love.” But he’s not “politically correct,” I suppose, because he’s perceived as squeaky clean and overly religious. No one has a good word for his recordings, but the reasons are not musical, in my opinion. In this connection, thanks very much for the Wagner clipping. I found it very interesting. He, of course, is one more example of a musician who is judged by extra-musical considerations.
I never really cared for the Beatles in their heyday. I remember, though, saying to you in Montreal North in our bedroom, soon after Sergeant Pepper had come out, “Gee! The Beatles are really getting cool lately!” Or was it the “White Album”?
November 5, 1992:
If you proceed in this way, you might create a book that others will quote as an authority. (In this connection, when I see you next, ask to see a book called The Modern Researcher, a true inspiration. The adventure of research is communicated very strongly. Some fascinating research stories are told.)
BB bats, I think, were licorice baseball bats about three inches long that had their business ends dipped in tiny red BB candy. I think Pixie Sticks were packets of powdered candy that you could also use to make a soft drink. Sen-Sen was breath candy in the form of tiny black rods, almost a powder, that tasted like licorice. […]
Yeah, whenever I watch The Simpsons, I laugh out loud about three times, and it’s usually because of something Homer said. (I think it was “Uncontrollable laughter arose among the blessed gods,” from the Iliad.)
I’ve noticed an odd tendency in me lately. In off moments I’ve taken to inventing jokes, one-liners, etc.—suitable for stand-up. [But] when I think of these, I never have a pencil so I usually forget them.
I borrowed a book from D’Arcy called Pow! It’s Pitney, a songbook. Did you know Pitney wrote “He’s a Rebel,” done by the Chiffons? I think that’s a great song and record. I borrowed the book after having spent an afternoon in D’Arcy’s father’s condo with him and his father, jamming. Joe played piano and D’Arcy bass. I was on electric guitar. One of the things we played was “Music from Across the Way.” (My idea of course.)
Some of your items surprised me. I didn’t know you liked Vee. Or Rydell. Great! I like them too. I have a four-song CD of Vee’s—all the original versions of “Run to Him,” “Take Good Care of My Baby,” “The Night Has a Thousand Eyes,” and “Come Back When You Grow Up.”* The one with the asterisk (or, as some people call it, the “ask-erisk”) is the only one I don’t like. I too like some of Pat Boone, especially “Moody River.” But I think I told you that before.
February 5, 1993:
Well, I’m finally starting another letter to you—couldn’t [earlier] because a huge jigsaw puzzle is occupying the desk! Still is, but now and then we just [work] on top of the pieces. It’s a hard puzzle—1500 pieces!
I’ve written another score. It’s based on that melody you found interesting on my tape, “When Matter Touches Antimatter.” It has the same title. Remember on the tape where there’s a loud chord that represents the moment when the touch supposedly takes place? Well, actually, it was an error—I had the guitar on full reverb and actually was surprised at how loud the chord sounded when I hit it. It was only later that I realized the chord fits both musically and thematically. Now, the idea is fully implemented and the piece I have written contains three such loud, “surprise” chords, strategically placed so as to be unexpected all three times (I hope). The tune, as you know, goes placidly along until that chord. Now, it continues and ends without any loudness, so that the chord is forgotten. However, the melody has what they call a “tag,” an extension of its last branch (which is a quite a common procedure in songs and music generally). And in the “tag,” the chord occurs once more. Finally, there is a “stinger” chord, but it too will be unexpected because of the context (I hope).
As usual, I have inserted “rehearsal numbers”—actually letters, A to O—in the score to make things easier for the conductor and players to refer to different sections of the piece, and I take it as a good omen that the stinger chord occurs exactly at Section O. This can stand for zero, which is what you get when matter touches antimatter (that is, according to current thinking; but in reality this is impossible according to the Objectivist philosophy). Moreover, the other two surprise chords happen at interesting spots. The first is Section F—and the piece is in the key of F! The second is Section N, which is right close to Section O, and together they spell no—which can stand for the negation of reality.
A very interesting thing about this tune is that to some extent I created it out of “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes,” by making certain transformations on its structure. That is, I wanted to see whether I could make one good tune out of another. At one point I gave up and just started writing and developing the tune in my usual way, however. I am not sure it is possible to “manufacture” a good melody in such a manner. Anyway, it is intriguing how the two titles fit together: When Matter Touches Antimatter, Smoke Gets in Your Eyes!
March 7, 1993:
Tomorrow we’re going to a school in Scarborough where a band is going to read through “When Matter Touches Antimatter.” Let’s hope all goes well. I’m going with a tape recorder of course. And Gerri.
March 12, 1993:
Gerri didn’t go after all. It went well. I was sandwiched between Sousa and Gershwin. (I didn’t stay for the latter.) As with the Sousa, some parts sounded good and others terrible. He is going to call me and we’ll talk about whether they will do it again. Unfortunately, I don’t have a tape of the rehearsal because the mike vibrated so much on the tabletop that everything sounded horribly out of tune!
There will be another rehearsal with a different band at the end of the month. This time I’ll make sure I tape properly.
March 13, 1993:
We’re having a party tonight for Gerri’s birthday, which was on the tenth. But several people cancelled because of the “storm of the century” that is going to hit today. So it will be a small party, but it should still be fun.
Recently an unusual guy name of [R] who works at McGraw lent me a tape of a short film, whose title is “Norha and the Microbabe,” in which a song he wrote called “I’m in Love with Myself” is used at the end. Also he appears (very briefly) in the film. Apparently the film has received international recognition and won some awards. It was produced with Canada Council help. I myself didn’t like the film, but the song was interesting. He tells me he’s writing a rock musical—has been for ten years off and on. He’s a part-time rock musician, and actually sings the song in the movie. This fellow is very outrageous, but likable. Some of the comments he makes to the females in the company!
March 27, 1993:
We saw Hitchcock’s Spellbound recently. Did you know that Salvador Dali did some of the design of that film? I won’t tell you how, in case you haven’t seen the movie. As soon as his contribution appears, you’ll notice.
April 23, 1993:
I called a [DR], whose band at a place called Crescent School went over my piece “When Matter Touches Antimatter” a few times. He had left a message on the answering machine saying that he could not get a satisfactory tape of the piece, not because of the music, but because the band needed more time to learn it. In fact, he said, he likes the piece. So I told him he could hang onto the score until the summer, when they will be able to give more time to rehearsing the piece. What’s especially good about this is that he said he liked it about three times in the course of his message, so it sounds sincere.
I’m presently working on another score! I didn’t think I would get up the enthusiasm so soon for another piece, but one day I was tinkering around with an old tune and the ideas just kept coming.
May 1, 1993:
I finished the score a few days ago. I call it “I Did a Very Foolish Thing,” partly because it fits the tune. I’ve already sent it to [DR].
May 5, 1993:
Now I’ve sent it to [PS] also.
Gerri has a bird’s nest in her office window, and recently two eggs appeared. She couldn’t have been more delighted if she had gotten ten new clients!
May 22, 1993:
The nest was apparently attacked by some other bird. There was only one egg left, and it was lying on the sill. The finches went away a few days later, then we saw that the nest was being dismantled, probably by the two birds that built it. Hope they have better luck in their new location.
I’m including a poster that you might find interesting, about propaganda cartoons.
I’ve got yet another idea for a band piece. This time I think I’ll give the entire melody to the trumpet. It’s a good melody, based on “Caution to the Wind,” my earlier song, only much changed and improved. I don’t know what I’ll call it—perhaps “Caution to the Wind.”
May 28, 1993:
Well, guess I’ll sign off. Sorry this letter probably isn’t about very interesting things, except to me.
August 8, 1993:
I’m sending a clipping about “trash of the ’50s, ’60s, [and] ’70s.”
August 21, 1993:
Remind me, next time we see each other, to get the Virtual Reality Playhouse book and disk from you, if you’re done with it.
August 22, 1993:
Ever hear the 60s hit “Crystal Blue Persuasion?” I’m not sure who did it. It’s a bit like the other hit from the same era, “Crimson and Clover” (there is also a record “Incense and Peppermints” which is not like them, except in the sense that there was a trend toward songs with titles like that, it seems, in that period). Anyway, it’s another record I never liked at the time, but that I love now! It doesn’t have a great melody, it’s just a great “piece of music”—a good listen. Mostly it’s the bass line that grabs me. I can’t describe its effect—it’s just a repeated phrase, over and over, that drops out for a while from time to time, then returns. It just seems to say something, something that strikes you as of tremendous import. The song seems to carry the dumb message that “love is the answer,” but I find myself not caring, that I’d renounce my beliefs for the sake of honoring the spirit of that bass line. Such is the power of music.
Try to get a listen to “Crystal Blue Persuasion” and see how you react to it.
September 4, 1993:
Over my holidays we went to the CNE. Most of what we did had to do with music. Ellie, our friend who used to live next door to us, went also. She brought us first of all to the “musical ride,” which consisted of horse formations to the accompaniment of a bagpipes and drums band. Then we spent the better part of the afternoon at an event called the Open Country Music Competition, which was apparently in its finals, as in each category there were three contestants and three trophies were handed out—i.e., everyone got a trophy, one for first place, one second, one third.
Anyway, by chance we sat at a picnic bench with some other people, one of whom was a lady who was wearing a red leather dress cut short, and was nicely made up. We figured she must be one of the contestants, and we were right.
You guessed it. She also won first prize in her category. There’s a coincidence for you!
The final musical event was one that we had planned on attending from the first. It was a special performance of a musical that is currently a big hit on Yonge Street. Here are some excerpts from a letter I’m considering writing to the performers:
Dear Sirs:
I want to tell you how much I enjoyed the performance of Forever Plaid you gave at the CNE last night. Many members of the audience were probably shocked to learn such songs existed. What a long-overdue change from the pervasive melismatic nonsense like “I Will Always Love You” that dominates the pop scene at present!
Several of the numbers you sing are among my favorite songs. Your best piece, as far as I am concerned, is “Moments to Remember,” a song that is interesting all the way through (unfortunately, that is rare). You do it great, which is to say like the Four Lads did it. “Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing” is next (of course it is an even greater song than “Moments,” but I am speaking of the show). I also love “Standing on the Corner,” which, however, was apparently among the numbers you had to cut for this show. (I hope it wasn’t for political-correctness reasons. If so, I would urge you to put it back in.)
The arrangements are beautiful, the comedy is tops, the bits of business are first-rate—and, of course, the performances are perfect; I have rarely heard such tight harmonizing. You do each song the way we all want them done. That this show is a hit does not surprise me. Thank you for the most wonderful entertainment experience I have had this year, and indeed for several years.
September 7, 1993:
I’m working on a song, a rather strange one, that I call Woolen or Gray. Here are the lyrics:
Woolen or Gray
Watch out, your life’s in danger,
lock up your yard.
The night is coming fast—close all your windows, be on guard.
There may be / Changes. Watch out for falling tears from your eyes,
While long-forgotten comets appear by surprise.
If you thought daylight had a charm that has gone,
You looked at things naively,
You saw the world with bright blink ers on.
1. Look now, those brooding clouds, they can’t be described.
I don’t know if they’re WOOLEN OR GRAY—
But they are / Something—watch out for falling tears, come what may.
2. Look now, that nighthawk as he wakes to his hour
And leaps to heights in search of his prey.
It might be / You, and he dives through clouds of WOOLEN OR GRAY.
Strange, eh?
September 26, 1993:
I’ve been listening a lot to Merrilee Rush’s “Angel of the Morning.” (It was redone a while ago, but I prefer Rush’s.) Ever paid attention to the use of percussion on that record? It’s extremely interesting, especially the snare triplet that is used throughout. Percussion is kind of a mystery to me, as regards how it is employed exactly, what rules one follows to decide what beats get what kind of note from what kind of drum. (Of course some might say there are no rules, that musicians go by the “feel” of the music. But still there do seem to be basic procedures, because often the use of drums seems so right.)
January 29, 1994:
Bruce just sent me a CD that I’ve been wanting: John McDermott’s Danny Boy. I wrote to Bruce:
I haven’t even listened to all of it yet. I’ve only played the first cut (one of your favorites) and the third, which is “Danny Boy.” But I’ve listened to “Danny Boy” three times. Some musicologist once called it “the most beautiful tune in the world,” and it may well be. No one knows who wrote the melody, although all those who have written words for it are known. The tune is so familiar that I did not realize its beauty until a few years ago. Its present lyrics are very good for the tune, and probably account in part for its preservation. Have you ever listened to the words? It’s sung by a father whose son is about to be conscripted; the father doesn’t know if he will be alive to see his son return—or even if the son himself will ever come back.
February 6, 1994:
I am collaborating with two lyricists (separately), putting music to preexisting poems. (I swore I’d never do this, because I thought no good tune can be written this way. But so far it is working out, as I simply mine my old notebooks for melodies that fit the verses, and adjust the words and music where necessary.)
One of the lyric writers is [TM], several of whose songs (as he calls poems) are suitable for lyrics. He had approached me at [BM]’s last party and I recently contacted him.
I am also thinking about a new piece for brass band (as opposed to concert band), for which I have already written the melody and harmonies.
May 8, 1994:
I’ll close off this letter […] By the way, the brass band piece was finished a while ago and sent off.
May 16, 1999:
I got the shock of the year when I found out who wrote the song “This Is My Song,” the Petula Clark hit. (You know the one; it goes “Love, this is my song. Here is a song, a serenade to you. / The world cannot be wrong if in this world there’s you.”) The same guy who wrote the good song “Smile” (“Smile, though your heart is aching. / Smile even though it’s breaking.”), which is an old standard. None other than the Little Tramp of silent screen, Charlie Chaplin. However, I looked up the sheet music and the chords are not as good as the ones used on Petula’s record.
Letters from Keith Rawlings
From Keith Rawlings, January 13, 1992:
[Keith mentions some items from the past that he remembers with affection.]
“This Magic Moment” by Jay and the Americans … Young Love” by Sonny James … “Walk Right In” by The Rooftop Singers, 1963, with that fantastic twelve-string guitar. …
From Keith Rawlings, September 21, 1993:
The Rod-man! Rodmeister! Makin’ copies! Rod-na-rama! Baron Rod Von Rawlenheimer! Rod-nay! Rod!. …
Tommy James and the Shondells do both “Crimson and Clover” and “Crystal Blue Persuasion.” By them I also enjoy “Hanky Panky” and “Mony Mony.” I like “Crimson” very much, but “Crystal Blue” is my least favorite. I remember bits and pieces of it though, so next time it’s on my radio, I’ll pay special attention.
We have a station here called “Oldies 9-90.” (Sing: “All Oldies—all the time—Oldies 9-90.” Like “wonderful WINO” by the comedian George Carlin.) Its format is obvious, and they lean heavily on the post-Beatles stuff, mostly Motown. You know—the Big Chill movie soundtrack? Like that. YEEEEECCCCCHHHHHH!!!!
From Keith Rawlings, September 23, 1993:
I’m attaching a clipping from The Gazoo: “Longest Running No. 1 Singles.”
From Keith Rawlings, October 14, 1993:
I’m really getting lazy with my letters to you! That is, I can’t seem to get up the energy to type these. I’d have so much to say, that when I’d get to type, I’d’ve forgotten most of the stuff I had in mind! Oh, well. No loss. Whenever I say something, next time I’d have altered my opinion, anyway. (Just kidding.)
Now I remember. Michael Rennie: Do you know this actor? He was in the movie The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951), one of my most favorite sci-fi films (no, not one of those “so bad it’s good” movies, but an actual excellent-type film). Although I don’t agree with its philosophy, I enjoy this movie for that actor’s style. (Also, it’s got Patricia Neal in it too.) Here’s an interesting quote from him (not acting): “Elegance, style, idealism—the whole romantic spirit seems to be disappearing from the world.” …
Lots of movies I enjoyed as a kid I no longer enjoy. For example: Godzilla movies. Maybe because I originally saw these in a theater on the big screen—something’s no longer there for me. They’re bad in a way that’s not enjoyable. They’re boring. The bad films I enjoy are not boring. Also, they are mostly from the 50s and 60s—the majority of these type of films are—check out the books on the subject (hey, try to find books on the subject)—I rented some recommended ones from the 70s and I did not like them much.
70s bad movies are bad, stupid, poorly acted and scripted, plus ridiculous—all essential ingredients—but they’re dull and boring—not so Plan 9 from Outer Space and Wild Women of Wongo, 50s films both. The latest-dated bad movie that’s one of my very favorites was made in 1968: The Astro-Zombies. I guess it’s the long hair and sideburns that turn me off (?).
When I say I enjoy a bad movie, it’s not intended as a put-down—a sin most writers commit when writing about said flicks. I have a great affection for them. These are the only type of films I watch again and again. I’ve watched The Beast of Yucca Flats five times (or more) since I purchased it this summer through a collector in the States. This film was released in 1961, and has two small brothers in it. … Their names are Randy and Art, and a funny part in this film is when they get lost—wander away from their parents’ car into the desert—and their dad calls out for them: “Randy! … Mike!” Also what’s funny is the fact that the entire (sparse) dialogue track was dubbed in, and when the characters have a line, the voices are heard, but the speakers’ lips cannot be seen because either there’s an obstruction, their heads are turned, they’re too far away from the camera, or they are speaking off-screen. …
[D]id you see Jurassic Park? I did of course, and recommend it highly, but there are a few things I don’t like about it: namely that this movie seems to be saying that man is a small, puny, insignificant animal next to the awesome power of the dinosaurs! I mean, they can figure out how to open a door by its handle! Wow! That’s something next to man’s feeble attempts at civilization! SMART! …
From Keith Rawlings, November 1, 1993:
Right now I’m reading Dante. (Another example of people who live only in the present is that a lot of people don’t know, or never heard, of Dante!) It’s Dante’s Inferno first, then maybe the others. What brought me to Dante was Blake! His last work was his watercolors illustrating Dante, and I’ve recently read a biography about him (Blake), written in the 1980s. This bio states that near the end of his life, Blake became more and more serene. (He was quite paranoid and difficult through most of his earlier years.) He became, near the end, less interested in writing, preferring visual inspiration. … I must say it is his visual art that interests me most, although his poem “Piping Down the Valleys Wild” is my favorite poem—the most moving thing I ever read! I’m still trying to figure out his philosophy. Some books say he was a believer in free love, while others say he was the opposite: that he was against the desires of the flesh. By his drawings we can see how he loved the human body. There is no hint of shame in them. In fact, once Blake and his wife Catherine were caught by some unexpected visitor in their backyard sitting naked in the sun and reading together, and there is no mention of any embarrassment or apology from Blake! … He certainly never compromised his vision, and that is what I admire Blake for.
From Keith Rawlings, February 4, 1997:
“Let’s Think About Livin’”: those lyrics sound really familiar. Especially the chorus. Funny to sing about Marty Robbins being dead when he wasn’t in 1960!
From Keith Rawlings, February 5, 1997:
Love those 4-seas-ons, being ons 4 seas! Wouldn’t it be nice to have a Greatest Hits CD of them, eh? Some of my favorites: “Let’s Hang On,” “Big Girls Don’t Cry,” “Rag Doll,” “Walk Like a Man,” and of course, their rendition of that old standard, “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.”
From Keith Rawlings, February 10, 1997:
I’m trying to find out if there were 2 versions of “Young Love,” both by Sonny James. I know there were 2 versions released in 1957, but the other was by Tab Hunter. The Sonny James one I have doesn’t have a very short electric guitar solo in it that copies the chorus’ melody, which I’m certain I’ve heard a few times. In the version I have, the vocal is almost identical to the one with the electric guitar. Perhaps it IS the Tab Hunter version, but IF it is, he copies Sonny James’ vocals shamelessly!
Also, I have a version of “Wonderful World” by Sam Cook, with violins, but the version I like doesn’t have ANY violins. Again, the vocal is identical.
From Keith Rawlings, February 19, 1997:
Just thought I’d drop you a line concerning the above research I’m doing. A few months ago (summer), I was trying to locate the exact building where the events “occurred.” I started in my local library. I looked up books of Montreal architecture history. This is how I DID finally locate the actual building site, only recently. It was actually seen by me EVERY DAY while I was working at a Customs Brokers in the 70s, and while I was looking for it in the wrong places. It is the old building next door to the Customs House! Now abandoned. While in my Pierrefonds library looking up those books on Montreal architecture, I saw on a table there a blue binder with computer prints in it. It was a listing of Quebec Geneology. For a lark I looked up “Monk” and there was an entry for a book published in 1983 with an article entitled “L’Affaire Maria Monk”!!!! Needless to say, I was floored!!!!!
Right away, I asked them to try to locate this book for me. (The book with that article is called Les Cahiers des Dix no. 43.) A few days later, the library put me in contact with another library that had some of these books. I called them, but they did not have THAT issue!!! So I put aside my researches as I wanted to see CURRENT research on this subject before starting my own. Now today, I FOUND IT!! At Concordia library. I went today at lunch, to look for it there, as I didn’t try Concordia yet. At first, I thought after looking at the computer search results, that I’d have to go to [the] Vanier building to see it, but after asking for a more detailed screen I saw they had it upstairs from where I was. BUT … this morning, I had given away ALL my change for a coffee and croissant, so I then thought I’d have to come back tomorrow with more change (to copy it). THEN, I remembered I still had a copy card. I looked and there was over $3.00 credit left!!! Now I will translate it from French (which is a piece of cake next to German) and be further ahead on this, finally.
I’m a happy man!!
From Keith Rawlings, March 11, 1997:
Got photocopies of a chapter from a book in McGill: FORGOTTEN LADIES, circa 1928. Guess who is one of the “forgotten ladies”? Maria Monk. There is even a portrait engraving, from one of her own books apparently, but I don’t think it’s a true likeness. At least the author thinks it’s not. He’s most likely correct. The picture makes her out as very pretty. Considering that her claims are suspect, so the likeness must be, too. As my French friend Serge would say: “It’s betting dan nodder!”
After getting home from T.O., I had a letter from a record company, that they sold 251 units of a record with my song “The Devil Likes Me” on it. It’s the same recording that 3 O’Clock Train did (mid-80s), but now on CD. It’s actually an anthology of their first two releases. The royalities are about $8.00, being kept until it goes up higher than $30.00, then they’ll issue me a cheque.
From Keith Rawlings, March 13, 1997:
Ann and I went last night to a stage show (at the Old Munich, now named Le Medley) called: YESTERDAY—LES BEATLES.
The concept was a musical group singing selected Beatles songs in chronological order, with films playing on screens overhead of them showing various scenes from the 60s—esp. of The Beatles, of course. (Did you know that The Beatles came to Mtl. in 1964? To the Forum, no less.) The show-group did not really look physically too much like the real Beatles, but the songs were done (live) letter-perfect, and the clothes evoked the various phases of their careers. The vocals sounded almost exactly like them, as did their stage movements. There were several costume and make-up (facial hair and wigs) changes. We both enjoyed it immensely, along with Kystyne, who bought the tickets last week. What struck me was the sheer genius of The Beatles’ song-writing and arranging! Every ending was a STRONG one! Even “Ringo’s” drum beats were amazing! Of course, the group at that show copied exactly The Beatles’ original recordings, so didn’t have to work too hard arranging, etc. George Martin was the fifth Beatle, as we all know, and probably was totally responsible for the fact that their recordings were so great!
From Keith Rawlings, March 27, 1997:
My MM research is coming along. Still gathering. My next task, when I amass enough materials, is to organise them chronologically. Such as who said what first, who replied to whose book, etc. That book THE MODERN RESEARCHER is amazing and inspiring. Thanks for loaning it to me.
Today, at my lunch I went to McGill’s microfilm library. I found microfilms of THE MONTREAL GAZETTE and looked up October 1835 and found their response to the first rumblings of the accusations against the Hotel-Dieu priests and nuns, JUST BEFORE MM got into it. The book AWFUL DISCLOSURES was published the next year, 1836. Just for fun, I also looked up THE GAZETTE from 1961. Somehow, though, I couldn’t find the Saturday COLOR comics pages! Perhaps they thought them unworthy to microfilm (?). They WERE a supplement back then. I found the B&W dailies, though. Plus I took a gander at the movie listings. I’m not finished with this sort of nostalgic look back, by a long shot. I’ll keep you posted.
From Keith Rawlings, March 30, 1997:
MM [Maria Monk] was definitely a real person. The pre-publication accusations against the priests and nuns of Mtl. were STARTED by her, and certain Protestants in New York. It all began when this Protestant organisation in New York said that they had a young woman who had escaped from the Hotel-Dieu in Mtl. with a tale to tell, which would soon be published. She wasn’t named in the GAZETTE’s response that I read. She was, after the AWFUL DISCLOSURES was published, later used by these Protestants in publicity against the Catholics, became well known, and was shown around during their campaigns. Eventually her mother spoke up about her for the courts (disparagingly), once the law got involved. I fully intend to copy some newpaper stuff—not just MM material, either, but some personal nostalgia. It is not expensive. While looking at the film, I just push a button and get a photocopy right away, for about 30 cents per.
From Debra Rawlings, January 1981 (?):
[My sister writes to me in Toronto after I had visited the family in Montreal for Christmas.]
How are you? How was the train ride home—did you sleep? What did you do on New Year’s Eve? I had a good time at the 607. First about 30 of us went out for supper then we all went next door to the 607. It was great. I saw people I hadn’t seen in ages. The band was good too. My pictures I took at Christmas turned out nice. There’s a good one of you playing the guitar. Some girls at work thought you were quite good-looking. Anyway, I have no more room, so have a happy birthday! It is your 31st, isn’t it? Have a drink for me and I’ll have one for you.
Please write.
From Debra Rawlings, January 30, 1982:
[My sister refers to a childhood memory from when I slept in an upper bunk and she the lower.]
I remember when you used to sing “Pretty Blue Eyes” to me. I even remember you trying to teach me the words. But unfortunately I don’t remember the artist.
From Heidi, a German friend, after her visit to Toronto, about 1995:
Dear Jerry [Gerri], dear Rodney!
I’m […] sorry for my writing too late, but when I arrived in Berlin, the next day my work began and I had many things to do.
Toronto is very wonderful and I think I love the town and the life/living there. Berlin [and] the people here are so hectic. The meets with you were nice and the games of chess with Rodney had been a lot of fun.
I’m looking here for a great chess partner—like Rodney—who teach me tricks and better playing, but I can’t find anybody.
Rodney’s magic show was very great. Eric had been right to say: “Rodney Copperfield!” How long had Rodney exercised for the tricks? It was very astonishing!
It’s a pity about my little English and so Eric gave me to my birthday in August an English-learn-video with a textbook.
As far as now I had no time to learning, but I hope to speak [and] understand better until my next visit to Toronto. …
Often I think about my wonderful holidays and [then] I’m looking at my photos and remember me.
To thank [you] for the nice hours with you, the very beautiful notepaper and for memory I send you some photos. I hope to travel as soon as possible to Toronto again.
Yours Heidi