Sparks-Tastic: Twenty-One Nights with Sparks in London
Autor Tosh Bermanen Limba Engleză Paperback – 14 mai 2013
In 2008, Tosh Berman—author and publisher of TamTam Books—got on a plane with a single motive: Sparks Spectacular. It had been announced that the band Sparks would perform all twenty-one of their albums in a succession of twenty-one nights in London...a monumental experience for any Sparks fanatic, which Tosh certainly is. Part travel journal, part personal memoir, Berman takes us through the streets of London and Paris, observing each city's history and culture through the eye of an obsessive Sparks fan. Including album-by-album reviews of all twenty-one shows and beyond, Sparks-Tastic defines a place and time in music history that's too defining to be ignored.
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Specificații
ISBN-13: 9780983925583
ISBN-10: 0983925585
Pagini: 208
Dimensiuni: 140 x 216 x 18 mm
Greutate: 0.25 kg
Editura: Rare Bird Books
Colecția Rare Bird Books, A Barnacle Book
ISBN-10: 0983925585
Pagini: 208
Dimensiuni: 140 x 216 x 18 mm
Greutate: 0.25 kg
Editura: Rare Bird Books
Colecția Rare Bird Books, A Barnacle Book
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Notă biografică
Tosh Berman is the founder of Tam Tam Books, an independent publishing company specializing in twentieth century international literature—by authors such as Boris Vian, Guy DeBord, and Serge Gainsbourg—and devoted to the purpose of reprinting lost masterpieces, presenting them to a large English-speaking audience. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife, Lun*na Menoh.
Extras
What is the meaning of this strange obsession? It’s said that a man is defined by his work and friends. To me, a man is defined by his record and book collection. And, of course, the appreciation of the right type of fabric at the right time and place—Levi’s button-up 501s with the cuffs up an inch (enough to see the sock)—that’s pretty much all that’s needed for a man in the twenty-first century, right? Well, that...and the twenty-one albums by Sparks.
So, when I hear that my all-time favorite group (or obsession)—Sparks—is doing a series of twenty-one shows in London, each night devoted to a different one of their twenty-one albums, I think there’s absolutely no way I can miss this. But when I sit down to see what the trip might cost, it’s obvious that there wouldn’t be any possible way to make it. Then, just to be sure, I check again. Then again to be triple sure. By now, I’m quite secure with the fact that I can’t possibly afford to go to London for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I consider myself a responsible adult with a full-time job at a bookstore that my tax guy calls a hobby, and my publishing empire, TamTam Books. So, figuring my job and my additional career as a publisher of contemporary French literature that ninety-five percent of the population doesn’t care about, I realize that I really don’t make enough money to make this happen no matter how hard I try to convince myself that it could happen.
Have you ever worked at a bookstore? Not counting a time when you worked part time while you were in school or abstractly as a writer immersing yourself in the atmosphere of books—but as a professional bookseller working full time to support yourself because that’s the career path that you’ve chosen? It’s the kind of life that can be counted as seasons go by—literally—because that’s how professional booksellers go through life...by the catalog seasons that books are released. Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Fourth of July, Halloween, and then the ultimate season for the book buyers—Christmas. One measures the whole year and the four seasons when working full time as a professional bookseller. I really don’t have the time for twenty-one days in London to hear and see twenty-one nights of Sparks.
Aside from Sparks, though, the number twenty-one keeps me attached to the idea of going. It seems to be a magic number that is calling out to me. And it dawns on me all of sudden that I live in the twenty-first century. (For whatever reason, my head is really into the twentieth century.) In the U.K., the twenty-one gun salute is especially marked for royalty; for the city of London, it is always a twenty-one gun salute. There are so many songs and book titles that have the number twenty-one (hardly any with twenty or twenty-two). And when I think of Sparks having twenty-one albums and doing twenty-one shows, man, that really stands out. It just rolls off the tongue and seems impressive. And the truth is, it really is impressive for a group to have twenty-one albums in their career and still carry on as if there’s no end in sight.
I am also fascinated with the idea of writing about this experience of seeing Sparks. And it is obvious to me that I need to capture this experience on the page. A reasonable person, I guess, might fantasize about going to the shows, taking a few pictures, and jotting down a few notes. But I am an obsessed fan, and a book person. I need to explore all of this in words, book-length words. Sure, a picture can capture something that may take a thousand words to convey, but it can also be misinterpreted. Words expose the space between the letters and the joining of our careers as musicians (Sparks) and booksellers (Me).
There just has to be a way to make this happen. I need to sacrifice all, go into debt, and jeopardize the stability of my life. But it all slowly reveals itself as an inevitability. I speak to my wife, Lun*na. She says: “You have to go, Tosh. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience.” Those were the exact words I needed to convince me that I am not delusional (even though I am). Lun*na knows me like she knows every cinema house that’s playing Yakuza flicks in Tokyo. And that phrase...once-in-a-lifetime. It’s dangerously similar to putting a red flag in front of an angry bull.
So, do I go? Or do I falter and shake in front of mommy/daddy faith? Again, I look at the calculations on paper that scream at me: No way you can afford to do this! You’re insane to even consider it! With that logic running through my head, I choose to do what any reasonable person should do in this situation: Go! To do otherwise would be non-participatory with the world of greatness.
So, when I hear that my all-time favorite group (or obsession)—Sparks—is doing a series of twenty-one shows in London, each night devoted to a different one of their twenty-one albums, I think there’s absolutely no way I can miss this. But when I sit down to see what the trip might cost, it’s obvious that there wouldn’t be any possible way to make it. Then, just to be sure, I check again. Then again to be triple sure. By now, I’m quite secure with the fact that I can’t possibly afford to go to London for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I consider myself a responsible adult with a full-time job at a bookstore that my tax guy calls a hobby, and my publishing empire, TamTam Books. So, figuring my job and my additional career as a publisher of contemporary French literature that ninety-five percent of the population doesn’t care about, I realize that I really don’t make enough money to make this happen no matter how hard I try to convince myself that it could happen.
Have you ever worked at a bookstore? Not counting a time when you worked part time while you were in school or abstractly as a writer immersing yourself in the atmosphere of books—but as a professional bookseller working full time to support yourself because that’s the career path that you’ve chosen? It’s the kind of life that can be counted as seasons go by—literally—because that’s how professional booksellers go through life...by the catalog seasons that books are released. Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Fourth of July, Halloween, and then the ultimate season for the book buyers—Christmas. One measures the whole year and the four seasons when working full time as a professional bookseller. I really don’t have the time for twenty-one days in London to hear and see twenty-one nights of Sparks.
Aside from Sparks, though, the number twenty-one keeps me attached to the idea of going. It seems to be a magic number that is calling out to me. And it dawns on me all of sudden that I live in the twenty-first century. (For whatever reason, my head is really into the twentieth century.) In the U.K., the twenty-one gun salute is especially marked for royalty; for the city of London, it is always a twenty-one gun salute. There are so many songs and book titles that have the number twenty-one (hardly any with twenty or twenty-two). And when I think of Sparks having twenty-one albums and doing twenty-one shows, man, that really stands out. It just rolls off the tongue and seems impressive. And the truth is, it really is impressive for a group to have twenty-one albums in their career and still carry on as if there’s no end in sight.
I am also fascinated with the idea of writing about this experience of seeing Sparks. And it is obvious to me that I need to capture this experience on the page. A reasonable person, I guess, might fantasize about going to the shows, taking a few pictures, and jotting down a few notes. But I am an obsessed fan, and a book person. I need to explore all of this in words, book-length words. Sure, a picture can capture something that may take a thousand words to convey, but it can also be misinterpreted. Words expose the space between the letters and the joining of our careers as musicians (Sparks) and booksellers (Me).
There just has to be a way to make this happen. I need to sacrifice all, go into debt, and jeopardize the stability of my life. But it all slowly reveals itself as an inevitability. I speak to my wife, Lun*na. She says: “You have to go, Tosh. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience.” Those were the exact words I needed to convince me that I am not delusional (even though I am). Lun*na knows me like she knows every cinema house that’s playing Yakuza flicks in Tokyo. And that phrase...once-in-a-lifetime. It’s dangerously similar to putting a red flag in front of an angry bull.
So, do I go? Or do I falter and shake in front of mommy/daddy faith? Again, I look at the calculations on paper that scream at me: No way you can afford to do this! You’re insane to even consider it! With that logic running through my head, I choose to do what any reasonable person should do in this situation: Go! To do otherwise would be non-participatory with the world of greatness.