MiSC: Industrial Society & It’s Future, or The Unabomber Manifesto

‘Never forget that the human race with technology is just like an alcoholic with a barrel of wine.’ Ted Kaczynski

Several print versions are available.
An original manuscript.

I really like the quote at the top of this post. It’s from Ted Kraczyinki’s Industrial Society & Its Future, aka The Unabomber Manifesto. I like it because I think it captures extremely succinctly and very powerfully a very real trait of contemporary humanity, our addiction to technology.

Only the other day the latest copy of The Idler plopped through our letterbox, and the cover feature is an interview with Microsoft employee and tech guru Jaron Lanier (I’d never heard of him before!), and is about how the internet has enslaved us. At least according to the ‘strap line’!

I’m someone who doesn’t shy away from some of the darker rabbit holes of history. For example, my interest in WWII has lead me to read numerous biographies of Churchill, Stalin and Hitler.

Nothing too controversial so far, perhaps? I mean, Churchill is regularly described as one of the greatest of Britons. Hitler and. Stalin, tho’? I will admit I felt slightly grubby or suspect, even, just purchasing Mein Kampf, which I’m part way through reading at present (it’s a pretty stodgy read, before one even addresses the author’s ideas).

If one fears polluting one’s mind with dangerous ideas, ought one to even contemplate reading what might be the demented ravings of, say, a serial murderer, like Anders Brevik, or the Unabomber? [1]

Several modern serial killers have published ‘manifestos’. I don’t know this for sure, not having read much in that line, but normally, from what I’ve gathered about those by folk like Brevik and Brenton Tarrant, the Christchurch (NZ) Mosque shooter, they’re like the worst kind of modern school essays, composed from cut and paste plagiarism. Never mind the drivel that passes for the content.

Anyway, as I’m steering this from the less obviously or overtly threatening arena of biog’s of the ‘Great Men’ of history (great in terms of historical impact, as opposed to great as a friend/human being!), to the writings of convicted serial killers, one might reasonably ask, is this risking a rapid slide downhill into a moral cesspool?

Hitler, Stalin, even Churchill, all sent vastly larger numbers to premature graves, even if they admittedly didn’t personally perform any/many lethal acts themselves. In quantitative terms, at least, they put Ted K in the shade!

But enough prevarication! In this post I am talking about the ideas of a convicted serial murderer. A man frequently dismissed as insane; note the ‘brilliant madman’s essay’ bit in the pic at the top of this post. So, having just read Industrial Society & Its Future, this post aims to ask, is anything Kaczynski says true, interesting, valid, or worth pursuing further?

The young mathematics genius.
The older ‘lone wolf’ outsider.

Throughout the 35,000 word document Kaczynski repeatedly refers to himself as we, or FC (this latter purportedly standing for Freedom Club), something that is rather st odd with his outsider/lone-wolf m.o. But I guess he’s suggesting he speaks for more than just himself. And that could very easily be true enough.

On one occasion he even alludes to the fact that, without his having killed, he wouldn’t have attained his goal of getting his thoughts published and – he hoped – widely read.

Interestingly, having already waged a long lethal campaign of terror, successfully evading detection, he used the threat of deadly violence in two ways in relation to his manifesto. Violence had got him attention, and now it was to be both carrot and stick, when he approached parts of the US media with the aim of getting his thoughts published.

On the one hand, the carrot, he promised to cease and desist from his bombing campaign, if his manifesto was printed. But on the other, the stick, he threatened to kill again if his writings appeared in Playboy, preferring instead the more high-brow NY Times and Washington Post!

A facsimile of one of Kaczynski’s bombs.
Hugh Scrutton, one of Kaczynski’s fatal victims.

I read somewhere online – I can’t recall where – that Kaczynski claimed his killing of computer store owner Hugh Scrutton (pictured above) was ‘humane’, and the victim ‘probably didn’t feel anything’. Other and more reliable/plausible sources of information suggest Scrutton remained conscious and took about 30 minutes to die. Obviously such a gap between the perpetrators’ perception of his actions and the real consequences doesn’t cast the Unabomber in a good light.

Stepping back momentarily from the messy and personal nitty gritty of individual lives, deaths, maiming, etc, what at first appears mind-bogglingly awful – killing another person to get your views across – is in fact, historically, relatively normal human behaviour, albeit that this is not something so readily or so happily admitted to nowadays.

And to varied degrees modern societies tend to seek to quell or at least control this aspect of our natures.

But governments, and even corporations, continue to do it all the time. When governments do so, it’s called – depending on degrees of lethality – such things as Diplomacy, or Foreign Policy. Or at it’s most blatantly lethal, War.

When individuals outside of the traditional power politics frameworks act in this way, depending on their targets/motivations, it’s generally going to be labelled either freedom fighting or terrorism, depending also where the relative parties (and observers/commentators) stand.

But setting aside how Kraczynski got his platform, do the key ideas in Industrial Society & It’s Future have any useful insights or merit? I don’t really know why this suddenly became interesting to me. But it did [2]. And for this reason I wanted to read it. So I did a little ‘googling’, and soon found it, archived via the newspapers that originally (and with state/security forces backing) published it.

It’s a very long essay, in numbered paragraphs with quite a few footnotes. Some of Kaczynski’s former life as a student/academic/professor, clearly lives on! This said, structurally and in terms of content, and despite the author’s obvious intelligence, it is also quite rambling, and perhaps lacking in coherent structure.

Ted at his cabin.

Worse still, like many critiques of modern society, wherever they might originate from, left/right, anarchist, libertarian, whatever – oh, and America as a whole, and Kaczynski along with her, has serious issues with the whole idea of ‘leftism’! – it’s strong on critique and weak on solutions.

Anyway, I suppose now is the time/place to précis the contents. I, like Kaczynski, am fond of endless digressions, and feel a compelling need to qualify anything I might be thinking or saying to the nth degree. I’ll try and spare you that now! As simply and as brutally as I can, I’ll synopsise the TK/FC diatribe.

Rather bizarrely, to me at least, the whole thing is bookended, fore and aft, with his railing against ‘leftism’. For now I’m simply leaving that issue at that, i.e. duly noted. What’s much more interesting, to me at any rate, is his expatiating on modern society and our seemingly exponentially increasing dependency on technology.

To cut a long story short, I think he’s essentially correct in his analysis: in essence modern or post-industrial-revolution society is a vast and brutal ‘super organism’. And one that has gathered its own momentum, in which the human species has now been almost completely reduced to an enabling agent. Cogs in the machine, the grease that keeps the wheels spinning.

The consequences for individuals, in terms of the loss of personal freedom, have been very radical indeed, and are, by and large, a fairly recent loss. The damage is not wrought on the psyches of individuals alone either, but also on the ‘natural world’, or our environment. This is something Kaczynski feels keenly. As indeed do many nowadays, a lot of whom might be shocked to learn that Kaczynski is, in this respect, a ‘fellow traveler’.

Surreal… Ted’s cabin on the move!

There were times as I read this that I thought to myself, ‘Ah, but Ted, you’ve missed such and such’. For example he likes to say ‘The Industrial Revolution and its consequences have been a disaster for the human race.’ And he frequently harks back to the 19thC in particular, on this theme. But he does also, if only in passing, allude to the fact that humanity’s ability to affect nature may have deeper roots.

I recently read Against The Grain, in which James C. Scott goes much, much, much further back, placing humanity’s domestication of fire as the start of our leaving a discernible imprint on the planet. But Scott also makes the point that most of humanity remained living mostly outside of state control until very recently. And in this respect, despite differing in details, the essence of their sweeping vision remains much the same; only very recently has humanity become enslaved by the super-organism that is modern society.

The major issue, obviously, is what, if anything, can be done? And with Kaczynski, the lone wolf, that translates to ‘what can one do’, individually, about this new evolutionary context we find ourselves seemingly inescapably enmeshed in? Kaczynski’s answer is to seek to destroy it. That’s where he and I part company.

Some might say ‘why bother to read the ravings of a nutjob?’ Well, we might say Kaczynski’s nuts. But I’m interested in what sends folk over the edge. Maybe our society is in need of change, and maybe not all who oppose the status quo are de facto insane. Maybe even those driven to the most overtly shocking or barbaric acts can still teach us all something about ourselves?

I found Kaczynski’s ‘manifesto’ interesting, it didn’t seem to me like the ravings of a lunatic. His issues with leftism are things you can hear people say very frequently, both here in the UK and the US. Many of them could equally well be said of aspects of ‘the right’ (I hate the whole left/right binary thing, it’s so limiting in scope!). But as I said above, I’m not going down that rabbit hole in this post. His grievances with ‘Industrial Society’ seem genuine and, for the most part, understandable.

Ted’s cabin wound up in the ‘Newseum’.

What I take away from having dared to read the ravings of a lunatic, so to speak, is that our society does indeed face many serious issues, and that the answers are far from simple.

If you’re interested enough to want to read it, the text of the manifesto can be found here.

NOTES:

[1] My mum, bless her, was worried when I bought a WWII German tanker’s cap, at a ‘40s show (I also bought some British uniform gear), lest putting it on my noggin might somehow transmit evil Nazi brainwaves from cloth to psyche! I reassured her that it was a repro’ item, and not a genuine WWII piece.

[2] Possibly it came to mind around the 9/11 anniversary? At times like that we sometimes wonder – as well as mourning the passing of the victims of terrorism – what motivates the perpetrator/terrorist.

MUSiC: Inedito, Jobim, 1987/95

Well, this is the end of my Jobim solo album series, for now. I don’t currently have Passarim (‘87), Antonio Brasileiro (‘95) or Minha Alma Canta (‘97). So there are a few gaps to be filled at some future date. But I’ve written up brief pieces on 11 of his 14 solo albums, plus a number of others from his collaborations (I’ll be filling in the remainder of those blanks as well, in time). It’s been fun listening to all these great recordings again.

An absolutely stunning collection of twenty-four pieces by Tom Jobim, ranging from richly orchestrated band renditions, to incredibly minimal arrangements. From the familiar bossas (albeit often heavily reworked) to his less familiar ‘chanson’ style piano ballads.

This was for years a limited private pressing. Only ‘going public’ after Jobim’s passing. There are parallels with his fantastic 1980 recording, Terra Brasilis, for which Claus Ogerman supplied arrangements. On this later recording – 1987 – Jobim uses the same musicians (friends and family!) that recorded his official ‘87 release, Passarim, with Jacques Morelenbaum supplying arrangements (and cello!).

Jobim and Banda Nova.

Another notable feature is how, more than on any other Jobim album (at least that I’m aware of) he steps back from the mic’, sharing lead vocal duties with Paulo Jobim, Danilo Caymmi, and several female vocalists (including Paula Morelenbaum, Jacques’ wife, and his own wife and daughter!), and even occasionally rendering the vocals as richly harmonised chorales.

An utterly sublime recording. Essential for any real Jobim aficionado.

FiLM REViEW: Affliction, 1997

Egads! So bleak and dark, it could’ve been made in the ‘70s. Teresa wasn’t keen. In fact we bailed, first time round. So this was my second go. Affliction is a slow burner. And, like the snowbound New Hampshire hamlet it’s set in, it’s cold and bleak.

I’ve always loved Nick Nolte, from everything like his most mainstream stuff, 48 Hours or Prince of Tides, to his role as Neal Cassady, in Heartbeat, or artist Lionel Dobie, in Martin Scorsese’s segment of New York Stories, Life Lessons. And the rest of the cast includes heavyweights like Willem Defoe, James Coburn and Sissy Spacek.

Wade is not in a good place, in any sense.

Nolte plays jaded policeman Wade Whitehouse, who’s worsening toothache turns out to be the least of his troubles. When a visiting businessman is shot in a hunting accident, Wade’s paranoid reaction, compounded by his abusive upbringing, at the hands of his alcoholic father (Coburn), begins an unravelling.

It’s a dark and sad story, and relentlessly negative, which is hard going. But as a character study, it is powerful and engaging. The plot arc is kind of predictable, but strong nevertheless. Nolte and Coburn are both truly horrible, frankly. But we still feel for them, especially Nolte, as he descends ever deeper into his own lowering circles of hell.

It’s kind of like pulling teeth… literally.

Nolte has had some odd roles, from sending his own machismo up, as Four Leaf Tayback in Tropic Thunder, or Harry LeSabre in the bonkers adaptation of Kurt Vonnegut’s Breakfast of Champions, also starring Bruce Willis. In this movie he’s stuck in the cul-de-sac of what might now be called toxic masculinity.

Hardly uplifting, but I still thought this was a really strong film.

MUSiC: Terra Brasilis, Jobim, 1980

Belonging to what one might call Jobim’s ‘third age’ (I’ll say a bit more on this later), this is a mid to late period recording, and is utterly sublime.

If, like me, you really love the music of Antônio Carlos Jobim, then this is an essential purchase. It’s his 11th album, released in 1980, so perhaps around the middle of his career, and now about 40 years old.

There are many familiar tracks here, such as The Girl from Ipanema and Dindi. Then there are others less familiar, such as the the extraordinary Two Kites. But all superb, and the older numbers are given very fresh treatments, such that none are just routine reworkings. For example, Someone To Light Up My Life is terrifically re-imagined.

Originally a double album, it all fits conveniently on one CD. A key part of the albums charm is Jobim’s partnership with arranger Claus Ogerman, which reaches a kind of apotheosis here.

Jobim and Ogerman in the studio.

With twenty tracks, including versions of most of the ol’ favourites – but pretty much all reworked in refreshing ways (for example the final track is a vocal and piano only version of Estrada Branca, sung in English) – and a number of new pieces, it’s a smorgasbord, or an embarrassment of riches.

Perhaps rather ironically, one of the weakest cuts, at least to my ears, is his most famous, The Girl From Ipanema, which is relegated to opening side three of the vinyl, or track eleven on the CD.

As usual, the supporting cast are both diverse and stellar, with American jazzers like Bob Cranshaw (bass), Bucky Pizarrelli (guitar) and Grady Tate (drums) rubbing shoulders very smoothly with Brazilians Pascoal Meirelles (drums) and Rubens Bassini (percussion). It’s interesting that, unlike most of his earlier albums, no star horn players are mentioned.

Returning to my ‘third age of Jobim’ idea, I think this is a good example of how, after his youthful bossa period, in the ‘60s, then his leaner ‘art music’ era of the ‘70s, from this recording onwards, he achieved a kind of late-era synthesis, moving easily between vocals and instrumentals, large orchestrations and solo performances, simplicity and complexity.

If you’re building a Jobim collection, although I wouldn’t say this is the best or most logical place to start, it’s not a bad one either, as it contains something from almost all aspects of his career. For the experienced Jobimista, it is, of course, essential.

MUSiC: The Nightfly Live, Donald Fagen, 2021

Well, this has been a long time coming, and no mistake. It’s nearly 40 years since the original Nightfly spun his tales from the foot of Mt Belzoni.

Sometimes people ask if there is such a thing as the perfect album. Well, for my money, The Nightfly is one such special and precious thing. So a live recording has some ridiculously high standards to live up to.

But as I sit listening to this, for the first time since it arrived, I am not disappointed. My first complete listen is in the car driving to work today. I’m now listening on headphones, at days’ end. Much better!Becker and Fagen were infamous studio perfectionists. It’s quite possibly thanks to the surviving legacy of such rigorously high standards that this stood any chance of success at all.

But then, of course, there is the material. With songs as well put together as these – each one is literally a perfect work of musical art – and a crack team of musicians, who are up to the job of paying such masterpieces their due respect, well… to alter a famous phrase, they were, perhaps, doomed to succeed!?

As a drummer, one of the first things that struck me was how busy and ‘pretty’ some of Keith Carlock’s playing is. In particular his left hand ghost or grace notes on the snare drum. I thought, for a brief moment, uh-oh, he’s overdoing it. Some may feel he is? But as I heard more and more, and finally the whole thing, I grew less inclined to nitpick.

The Dan were notably hard on drummers, ultimately creating Wendel, and for The Nightfly Wendel II, as a way to make drum parts more precise. Carlock is metronomically tight (how much post-production quantising is involved here, I don’t know?), and pretty much everything he adds manages not to get in the way of the feel of the tracks as we know and love them, but rather to add a bit of snap, crackle, pop and fizz to things. Impressive!

Then there’s the duality of structure vs improv’, and how to handle that. I think these redoubtable folk get the balance just right. The songs all sound faithful to the originals in most significant and structural respects, with just a little wiggle room for improv, and variety. There are occasional tweaks of vocal melody by Don, some ‘live show’ variant endings (e.g. Green Flower Street), and even a little stretching out here and there.

Fabulously it remains in that honey-pot sweet spot, the much vaunted ‘Goldilocks zone’, of neither too little nor too much, but just the right amount!

Listening a second time it’s all so incredibly clean, precise and beautifully mixed and balanced, one can’t help but wonder how much modern tech has helped play a hand in realising such a stunning outcome. But to be honest, I frankly couldn’t care less! Because sometimes the ends justify the means. And here is a case in point.

The recordings are from 2019, and are performed by The Steely Dan Band, as the post-Walter Becker group is known. recorded at the Orpheus (Boston, MA) and Beacon (NYC) Theatres. Personnel is as follows:

Donald Fagen, vocals, keys, melodica
Jim Beard, keys
Jon Herrington, Connor Kennedy, guitar
Freddie Washington, bass
Keith Carlock, drums
Michael Leonhart, trumpet
Walt Weiskopf, sax
Jim Pugh, trombone
Carolyn Leonhart, Catherine Russell, Jamie Leonhart, LaTanya Hall, b-vocals

All things considered, this is ace! An essential addition to the Dan/Fagen catalogue.

MUSiC: Urubu, Jobim, 1976

Starting with Jobim (1972/3*), Tom’s music takes a turn for the more grandiose, or towards what we might term ‘art-music’, and concurrently is somewhat less mainstream or immediately accessible. It’s not, initially, a massive change, more several forms of tweakage. Although having said this, by the tone of Urubu, the change is markedly more pronounced

Echoing Jobim, this is a record of two halves/sides: side one is vocal, side two instrumental. The songs are the more obvious descendants of his former phase as a maker of popular tunes/songs. But even these feel as if they’re becoming more European and chamber music styled.

Side two might be film or TV music, and is more orchestral, albeit with some splashes of chorale, and some wider instrumentation than is usually found in Jobim’s music up to this point.

Both the vocal and instrumental sides are four pieces apiece: Boto, Ligia, Correntzo and Angela are all songs; Saudade do Brazil, Valse, Architetur de Morar and O Homem are all instrumentals.

As a great admirer of Jobim’s work I like this expansion of his range. But I can also understand the viewpoint of those who love his prior work more, and start to lose interest in this material.

The truth is I’m most likely to teach for Wave, Tide and Stone Flower, or a collaboration like Eli’s e Tom than I am either Jobim (even with its two tecirdibgs of Aguas de Marco!) or Urubu, or even later masterpieces, Like Terra Brasilis and Inedito, although these later recordings come much closer to achieving a synthesis of Jobim’s broader reach.

This makes scoring this hard! As I’m typing this a rather John Barry/James Bond-ish passage is playing, part of track seven (whose English title is rendered as Architecture to Live), and it’s terrific! And album closer O Homem (OMan) is bolder brassier and even fanfare-like in places, unlike any other Jobim heretofore.

Not the place for the uninitiated to start. And only really essential to the Jobimophile, like me. I toyed with scoring this four and a half stars. But I love it. So it’s getting five.

* It says ‘72 on my vinyl copy. But some webpages say it was released in ‘73… !?

HOME: Garden

The climbers on this arch are nearing the apex.

It’s nice to keep occasional tabs on the progress of things like the garden. I particularly like the above photo, which Teresa took (on my iPhone) recently. Thanks to mum, for the arch. We have roses and (?) climbing up both sides, and now, after about four or five years, nearly meeting at the apex.

Our apple tree; small but fecund!

The apple tree nearly died on us. I had to lop off a big chunk that appeared to be diseased, several years ago. So it’s a lot smaller than we’d like it to be. But it’s great it survived whatever afflicted it, and is coming back strong. It is producing a lot of apples this year. More than ever before. They’re only just getting ready to harvest. So I can’t report on their quality for eating, juicing or cooking just yet. Fingers crossed they’ll be nice!

Teresa’s clump of fig trees, all doing well.

Also producing a healthy crop are Teresa’s fig trees. There are, I think, four or five, all planted as cut sticks, about four years ago. I personally think we should lift one or two and transplant them elsewhere. But for now they’re staying put. We’ve harvested a few figs from them already, but not gotten around to trying any!

One of several chilli plants.

One crop we have been both harvesting and eating is a variety of chillis. Most of which are growing in the greenhouse. But a couple of which, inc the one pictured above, are outside, either in a pot in a raised bed, or the herb bed. These are quite varied, some being quite mild, others pretty ferociously hot.

A banana palm, bought from a Co-Op!

I often covet the big banana palms we sometimes see on TV, when Gardener’s World visits somewhere, or the public submit their own garden shorts. I spotted some at a recently opened local branch of The Co-Op, when buying some lunch one day last week. Small, and £6 each, I bought one. It’s in the greenhouse at present, and will stay there to be potted on to a much larger pot and allowed to really grow.

Our garden is, like our home, small and a bit on the messy side. That annoys me somewhat. I’d prefer a bigger home and garden, and even more than that, I wish we could vanquish the beasts of mess and clutter! But ultimately I love both home and garden. They’re our private refuges. And both are a constant source of succour to us.

MUSiC: Sinatra/Jobim, The Complete Reprise Recordings, 2010.

NB Jobim’s frequent collaborations are something I was going to get to later, after posting on all his solo stuff. But I got this, to fill some gaps, and listening to it, felt compelled to write something up and post it. I’ll be covering other ‘Jobim plus’ type recordings in due course.

I recently acquired Sinatra/Jobim, The Complete Reprise Recordings on CD. And I did so despite already owning the two previous official collaborations between these two legendary figures of 20th century popular music.

Why? Well, partly cause I’m a collecto-maniac, but chiefly because there have been two or three tracks they recorded together that have long been hard to get hold of. The reason was that Ol’ Blue Eyes wasn’t happy with his performances. They were Sabia, Bonita, and Off-Key (aka Desafinado).

1967’s first joint venture.

This has the weird consequence of resulting in one ‘proper’ or fully collaborative album, Francis Albert Sinatra & Antônio Carlos Jobim, (1967), and one that was more an affair of two distinct halves, Sinatra & Company, (released in 1971). Both are very good. But I always preferred the earlier and more fully Jobim-ised disc, and felt a little cheated by the more pop than ‘great American songbook’ side of & Company.

One of the oddest songs, to my ears, on this listening, is Sabia, rendered here as Song Of The Sabia, and almost unrecognisable as the song Jobim performs elsewhere. This is thanks not only to the quite different lyrics, but even more so Sinatra’s very Vegas delivery.

Perhaps it shouldn’t come as a surprise that this was one of the tracks that prompted Sinatra himself to quash the release of the intended follow up to Francis Albert Sinatra & Antônio Carlos Jobim, which was to be called Sinatra-Jobim.

The cover for the follow up that was pulled.

On the whole Sinatra does a very commendable job, across both albums, of adjusting his performances to the much mellower more laid back stylings of the bossa nova. But one senses it was something of a stretch for ‘The Voice’.

Rather intriguingly, one of the numbers where both this accommodation, and the lush orchestral arrangements, fuse into something really surprisingly powerful, is Someone To Light Up My Life. Some of Sinatra’s bombast or bravura leaks into his vocal performance, in a way that gives it a quality more authentically Brazilian renderings I’ve heard don’t have.

The half’n’half (baked) Sinatra & Co, 1971.

Actually, it seems to me that Sinatra feels more relaxed and better able, in the second set of recordings – actually recorded in 1969, just two years after their first collaborative sessions – to integrate his own usual mannerisms into the bossa nova setting. So it’s somewhat ironic that it was performances from the second batch that were binned.

Sinatra takes the vocal lead throughout, but Jobim is allowed to play the second fiddle in numerous duets, including The Girl From Ipanema (the first track), and Off-Key/Desafinado, the latter being one of the three tracks here that has a more chequered past.

It’s surprising how consistent all the bossa material is, across both albums, in terms of feel and quality. The only obvious major difference is that frequent Jobim collaborator Claus Ogerman arranged for Francis Albert Sinatra & Antônio Carlos Jobim, whereas the still very young Eumir Deodato handles arrangements on the later Sinatra-Jobim/Sinatra & Company material.

What a fabulous photograph!

It’s worth mentioning, even if only briefly, the non-Jobim tracks, Change Partners (Irving Berlin), I Concentrate On You (Cole Porter), and Baubles, Bangles and Beads (from the popular musical Kismet). These were part of the Sinatra/Jobim sessions, and you can hear Jobim scatting in them. In contrast, the second side of & Company was neither by Jobim, nor has him on any of it, either. Those selections, inc. tracks such as (They Long To Be) Close To You and Leavin’ On A Jet Plane, are not included on this release. (Thankfully!)

Listening to all these tracks now, including the lost sheep – Sabia, Bonita, Off-Key – it’s hard to understand why Sinatra got cold feet. It’s definitely great to have all this terrific music gathered together in a Jobim-fan-friendly format. I’m much more a Jobim fan than a Sinatra one. Although Tom plays lower on the billing than Sinatra, it’s largely his music, and that’s why I’m here!

So, not part of my survey of solo Jobim, but still essential for both the lover of great music, and especially so the lover of Jobimalia!

Sinatra also had Jobim guest on a TV special.

MUSiC: Jobim, Jobim, 1972

After a run of recordings made at the Rudy Van Gelder studios, whilst this allegedly shares many of the same performers, it sounds and feels quite different.

The Brazilian version started with the sublime Jobim classic Aguas de Marco, in its original Portuguese. The US and other markets started likewise, but had an extra version of the same track, sung in English, appended to the close of side two. I’d say this is a five star album simply for having this track, or rather tracks, on it alone.

The rest of the disc is rather more varied than previous albums. Whilst tracks two and three, Ana Luiza and Matita Pere are very much the Jobim we’d grown to know and love, from Tempo do Mar onwards things shift to a more TV/movie soundtrack type territory.

Personally I love a lot of this music, albeit that it is quite different from the ‘standard’ Jobim stuff we may have grown accustomed to. Tempo do Mar, Mantequiera Range, Themes From the Films Cronica Da Casa Assassinada/Trem Para Cordisburgo, Um Rancho Nas Nuvens and Nuvens Douradas are all more ‘compositional’ (a kind of classical influence?); except for a brief interlude in the longer Themes From the Films track, they are all instrumental, and more orchestral and thematic, less song like than usual.

This makes this recording significantly different from all his previous discs. And some don’t like that. Allmusic.com score it a paltry three stars! I find that shocking. It’s like the reaction many had to Alice Coltrane’s Infinity. Close-minded. This said, as much as I love and admire Jobim’s work when he veers off his own beaten track, I do listen to this stuff less frequently.

According to online info, Claus Ogerman is once again working with Jobim. And he has a lot more to do here, as a great many pieces are essentially Jobim at the piano, plus an orchestra, predominantly consisting, by the sounds of it, of strings, plus some flutes, and the occasional trombone. So there’s a lot less of the US jazzmen blowing their horns.

They do crop up, here and there, notably Urbie Green’s sinuously laconic ‘bone can be enjoyed in several places. Likewise Ron Carter and Joao Palma are credited. But have a lot less to do than in previous recordings. Making a ‘slight return’ on side two, with the two Nuvens tracks, and the added English language version of Aguas de Marcos.

The cover artwork is a bit strange. A rather naive modernist painting. Poss’ by a member of the Jobim clan? It’s kind of suited to an album that’s a bit of a departure into what might be termed a more personal or ‘art music’ type direction.

So, whilst I personally love this album, being a major Jobim fan, I wouldn’t recommend it as a starting point, as it’s quite atypical. But, again, for me personally, on account of the two versions of Waters of March, if nothing else, this remains utterly essential.

MUSiC: Aguas de Marco (Disco do Bolso), Jobim, 1972

This is a little oddity!

Today’s post concerns a wee 7” single – or Disco do Bolso (pocket record!) – which was given away in a Brazilian supplement to the Pasquim newspaper. On one side the debut recording of Joao Bosco, on the other, another debut. But this time from the venerable old master, Tom Jobim… read on.

Regarding the Jobim track, it’s the first recorded iteration of a Tom classic that’s gone on to become a signature song both for the composer himself, and Brazilian art music/culture, of the 20th century. Covered many times by many artists. A favourite amongst musicians worldwide, it’s less widely or popularly known – compared with numbers like The Girl From Ipanema or How Insensitive – outside Brazil.

Funky font on the 7” label.

This particular version is certainly not the best; it’s a bit fast, and the production values are fairly poor. But this earliest recording does capture the joy and energy of creation itself. The excitement Jobim’s performance conveys is both palpable and infectious.

It’s a quite rough and ready recording, like a demo, really. Not the sort of finessed kind of mix or production of most Jobim commercial recordings. But it has extra charm for just those reasons.

I initially supposed the guitar, vocals and layered flutes, and poss even vocalised ‘cabasa’ style percussion, were all by Jobim. Leaving me wondering who played bass and drums. But a little online digging led here, where I discovered it was otherwise than I supposed.

Tom is credited as arranger and vocalist, with guitar played by Eduardo Athayde, bass by Novelli, drums by João Palma, and Bebeto, Paulo Jobim (family!), Franklin, Paulo (another one; a family friend, apparently!), and Ratto, all playing flute!

Image from an online ad for the mag/disc.

If I had the money, I’d love to track down a copy of the magazine with the disc. I did find one – pictured above – on eBay, asking price circa $180! Interestingly both the lyrics and Jobim’s handwritten musical score are printed.

Oh, and I adore the artwork! Jobim squatting by a tree (or rock?), with his flute at the ready, apparently reading some music off a sexy bikini clad lady’s very fine posterior!

NB – Google Translate renders the info on the Brazilian wiki-link about this release thus:

Antônio Carlos Jobim's Tom eo Tal de João Bosco is a simple 1972 compact made for the Disco de Bolso d'O Pasquim collection, released by Tom Jobim and João Bosco. Side A of the single brings the first recording and release of "Águas de Março" and side B brings the song "Agnus Sei" by João Bosco (his first recording). Despite recording and tuning problems, the single is seen today as of great historical importance.