James Jamerson.
Died 30 years ago today.

It was my dear old Friend Jeremy who alerted my ears to the genius of Jamerson.
I've written about him before, so I'd probably just be repeating myself if I tried to add more.  But for those who love and love to play the music that came out of that basement studio in that little house in Detroit where perhaps no less than a hundred masterpieces were created by an unsung, uncredited, underpaid group of musicians--  the unmistakable and irreplaceable James Jamerson has a special place in our hearts.  Today I'll think of him with a mix of sorrow and gladness--and a renewed appreciation for a man who with one finger on four strings made the world dance and sing with a sound that will live forever.

The Emperor circa 1902

EUPHEMISTIC (saving face) QUOTE OF THE DAY.

August 14, 1945. Emperor Hirohito informed his subjects of their country's unconditional surrender (after two atomic bombs, the loss of 3m people and with invasion looming) with the words, “The war situation has developed not necessarily to Japan's advantage.”


DRIFTER'S RANT OF THE DAY: 
I have issues with those who use the word "issues" inappropriately.  And I find it "offensive" when those who have issues with my issues concerning their inappropriate "issues" usage deem my  attitude inappropriate. I therefore propose that any and all use of the word "issues" be confined solely to use as a synonym for "topics"; that any and all usage of the words "appropriate" and "inappropriate" be limited to discussions of etiquette at formal dinner parties; and that the word "offensive" be banned unless used in the context of Sport.  

Flavor of the Day.
Beer Ice Cream. Really?  Really! 

HAPPY LITERARY NEWS OF THE DAY 
Bernie is Back!  

The incorrigible, incorruptible, indefatigable and incomparable Bernie Gunther has returned to fill us in on those middle war years that in eight previous books have been shrouded in mystery--despite the occasional mention that suggested it was a time too horrific to recount.  The Phillip Marlow-esque Nazi loathing German ex-Kripo cop who made his entrance in the 30s and 40s with the Berlin Noir trilogy and then continued into the 50's and 60's in five subsequent books as he made his way to Argentina, Cuba, The U.S. and then back to Europe again to relive it all under interrogation by a cacophony of cold war bureaucrats is still trying to do the right thing --this time while officially running a propaganda  errand for Joseph Goebbels, who he refers to as Joey the Crip-- in this latest by Phillip Kerr.  Kerr here seems to be uncharacteristically willing to let his narrative momentum stall a bit in favor of historical accuracy--and he's become a bit careless and lazy in spots where the language drifts into cliche--but damn, he's been doing this now for nine books and lord knows how he kept it fresh after the first three.  I think Kerr is now more interested in getting the history right  and he's clearly put in the hours at the archives-- and if you don't get too frustrated trying to keep track of all the different players, it moves along briskly with Gunther's voice setting the moral tone of disinterested disgust at the human animal at its most depraved.  Few historians can match Kerr's ability to examine the emotional and psychic toll that war takes on those who experience it first hand--and with Kerr that bell tolls on almost every page.

The slaughter of over 21,000 Polish military personnel and untold numbers of other luckless innocents by the Soviets (or was it the Germans?) is the context this time around, and it's a dark, chilling and all too sickening tale despite the pleasure of Bernie's laconic and existentialist comic/cosmic company. The cover art maintains the look of many previous ones with the Femme Fatale in prominent position--despite the fact that the woman (the only woman in fact) doesn't enter the stage till the the final act.   Ah, those sly marketing folks.

For more on Katyn Massacre:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Katyn_massacre