April 28, 2020 (In the Year of the Trump Virus)

April 28, 2020 (In The Year of The Trump Virus) For Marc Weinstein

Mentally I'm reaching the stars, but physically I'm hitting the basement. My legs are achy due that I have stopped my three-mile walks per day. If I listen closely, I can hear the left leg saying, "walk me, Master." The other leg is saying, "No Master, there is another episode of "Wanted: Dead or Alive" to watch. That is existentialism in a nutshell.

I compiled a major playlist for our Nik Cohn episode of "Book Musik." Over two-hours long, it is the history of pop seen through the ears and eyes of Mr. Cohn but selected by yours truly. My co-host Kimley and I usually do this together, but due to the size and zillion choices one can make, it's easier if one person does it. Otherwise, we would be on the phone for hours saying 'Nah, or 'yeah.' The next book we will be doing is a book on The Kinks. We're looking forward to the next episode.

Like a Zen Monk addicted to silence and space, I'm focusing on keeping myself busy. Even in the middle of the night, I find myself thinking about what I will do when I wake up. I'm excited at 3:45 AM, just tossing and turning in expectations of the next day. What disasters will arrive in our world? Sometimes I imagine myself as a prisoner. Oddly enough, I'm a restless soul. I like going out to record and book stores to reimagine a landscape of my choosing. Now, I don't have those types of choices, although I do spend a great deal of time thinking of being in a specific store.

Also, in the middle of the night, I'm thinking about being in Amoeba on Sunset Boulevard. Although the last time I was there, it must have been about two months ago. Still, I can recall each department and section of the store. Usually, when I go to Amoeba, I like to check out the new, used vinyl that just came in, and then I go to the "A" section of vinyl to see if they have that rare Kevin Ayers album. They never do, but it's the adventure of maybe it will be there. Then in alphabetical order, I check out the entire 'rock' section, and that will take me into the back room. I go into the jazz section to see if they have any Andre Hodeir or Michel Legrand albums, and then work my way to the classical section. I see if they have any Glenn Gould or Erik Satie records, and if I fail (which I usually do), I then check out their 20th-century classical music section. Then comes my favorite section of the store, which is the oldies. For the life of me, I don't understand why Scott Walker is in their oldies section. I understand The Walker Brothers, but Scott's "Drift" in oldies?

I end up in the foreign section, where I check out the French section, looking for later Jacques Dutronc recordings, which seems impossible. Then on the way to the exit, I look through Soundtracks, especially the Morricone section. If I time myself perfectly, I can leave the store, and get on the No. 2 bus back to Silver Lake. This is time well spent. Then I get out of bed.

- Tosh Berman

June 22, 2014

June 22, 2014

The bookstore Book Soup and yours truly have a long history together.  Both as a customer and as an employee.  My first ten years there were off and on, and I worked there full-time from 1997 to 2012.   So altogether around 25 years, I have been associated with the store.  Mostly as a bookseller and then from 2009 to 2012, as its book buyer.  But even as a buyer I spent a lot of time on the floor, monitoring sales as well as chatting with the customers and the staff.

My first time in Book Soup was when they were located up the street from where they are currently.  The space was cramped, small, and cozy.  One doesn’t go to Book Soup for space, you go there to be surrounded by books, and if you get hit in the head with a book, better yet!  And that is precisely what happened to me in the art section, when I reached out towards the top shelf for a book on the British artist duo, Gilbert and George, that entire shelf fell on me.  I remember the employee there was shocked when it happened.   I said I was fine, and was slightly embarrassed what just took place.  Although I was in a mild form of shock, I pretended everything was OK, and I even purchased the Gilbert and George book, just to save myself from further embarrassment by destroying their art section.

Through a recommendation from Michael Silverblatt, I finally got a job at the store, after working some years at a record store. I decided to make a huge jump from vinyl to the printed page, and doing so, I never looked back.  In fact, there is not that much of a huge difference between music and reading.  It always is and always will be an intense relationship between the listener/reader and the world.  The man who hired me, Glenn Goldman, was the founder and owner of Book Soup.  I immediately liked him, but was never sure if he liked me.  He was remote, slightly eccentric, and sometimes difficult to connect with, but that was also the reason why I liked him.  He struck me as the perfect person for the world of book selling.  In many ways, it has nothing to do with the ‘real’ life that is outside the store. Yet it consistently reflects on that landscape outside the door of the business.  In many ways, I felt like an outsider, but I was perfectly at home at Book Soup, because I felt it was the home of those who find a lifestyle outside the work, or place as difficult.

The clientele of the store is amazing, and truly famous and wonderful.  To be honest, I have never met a customer at the store who I disliked.  If they are willing to go in and share the adventure, I’m a fan or friend of that person for life. Including the legendary, the wealthy, the border-line insane, and some were convicted criminals - all wonderful people.  Time-to-tiime one is approached by the gossip media to locate information regarding what a specific customer is reading or not reading, and I just basically want to shoot the reporter or editor, because one, it is none of their business, and two, it is a sin to me to rat on my customers.  It is a bond that I hold up to this day.  Doctor-client, lawyer-client, priest-client, and bookseller-client.  Anyone who would distract that relationship was a person I would want to torture and burn for in perpetuity.

What I admired most about Glenn was his vision for the store.  I think basically he just wanted a business that expressed the good life, and all the troubles that goes with such a world.  It takes a certain amount of courage to open up a bookstore, but he either by design or luck, found a great location to open up a store that served not only the entertainment world, but also the whole world as well.  Our customer base was everywhere from New York City to London, to various locations in Asia.  Most were prominent people in their fields of interest and occupation, and it was truly an honor to serve their needs.  Also the beauty of the store was that it never dumb-down its inventory.  The trivial books were sold, but so were titles and authors who had a strong effect on the literary landscape.  It was common knowledge that if Book Soup didn’t have that title, then it didn’t exist anymore.  Glenn was a remarkable buyer for his store, and just working with him, I learned a lot regarding the subject matter of taste and how to present that ‘taste’ to our customer.   He had personal reading taste, but he also listened to his customers, and with the advice of various publisher’s sales people he built the perfect book store.

The shock of hearing about his cancer, was horrifying on a lot of levels.  One, I couldn’t imagine him being ill, and two, what will happen to Book Soup, a home for me for many years?  When he went to the hospital he requested that I take over his buying duties, and without even thinking about it I told him “of course.” It was one of those moments that happened so fast, and so unexpectedly that I never really thought about it in great detail, but it was a moment that changed my life.

Using Glenn as a role model, throwing in some of my knowledge in the mix, as well as listening to the staff, customers, and observing the industry, I felt confidante that I was in my true role in life.  To curate, to shape the inventory of a store is quite a remarkable adventure - but most of all, I never had someone trust me with such responsibility before.  Glenn, although never compliment me verbally, but by him giving me this job, it was probably the most touching thing that happened in my life.   Since today (June 22) is Book Soup’s birthday and therefore Glenn Goldman’s birthday as well (at least to me) I honor his memory, and also to the store that brought me a great deal of happiness.  Oh and books as well.

February 12, 2014

February 12, 2014

I went around Los Angeles taking photographs from my i-phone of landscapes that I know will be altered forever. Specifically the Sunset Strip area, which as I write, construction workers are tearing down the building toput up the new structures. Eventually if someone blindfolded me, turn me around five times, and then removed the blindfold, I don’t think I’ll recognize the area anymore.

People have a tendency to believe that Los Angeles has no sense of history, which is part of the charm of the place. It is very much rooted into ‘the now’ and not in its past. Nevertheless I feel compelled to document the changes that are taking place, and I imagine each location on the strip as if a ghost has lived there. La Cienga Boulevard and Sunset, which were always an awkward area to walk around in, due to the steep hill that meets Sunset. I imagine when crossing the street that I will topple over due to the gravity pulling me downwards. 

To be honest the two buildings that were recently torn down, are not of any interest, but throughout my life as I traveled back and forth on Sunset, I would see these buildings and often reflect my thoughts on them. Not once in fifty years have I ever entered those two buildings. One was the house of suede or leather and the other used to house the Petersen’s publishing empire, which consists of Hod Rod Magazine, Motor Trend, Guns & Ammo, and most important to me, Tiger Beat magazine. 

Now that they went missing, I have nothing but regret and a touch of heartache. It will be a matter of time when I won’t even remember these buildings, due to seeing the new structure on an everyday basis. My memory will fade, and therefore an important part of my history will disappear on the vacant lots. My favorite photographer Eugène Atget, obsessively took photographs of Paris at the turn-of-the-century and now we have visual documents of a city that doesn’t exist in a physical sense, yet it’s very much alive in one’s head and heart. 

I got off the Metro line 2 bus at the intersection of La Cienga and Sunset, and I wanted to get ahold of some sort of history before it disappears. It was around 1:00 AM and there were still people milling about the intersection, but I managed to break into the Petersen Building to hopefully locate something of importance to me, or something that will cause a memory of this location, before it changes into a version of ‘now,’ without the context of the past connected to the landscape. With a flashlight, I found the main staircase, which had no identity or design to it at all. Just a part of the building that appears to have no pride or interest in its welfare. If the building was a living thing, it was like it was telling me that I'm not worth living or existing on this world - especially on the intersection La Cienga and Sunset. 

On the highest floor, I found a room that wasn’t locked up. There was a desk, and in its drawer was a single issue of Tiger Beat dated May 1964. It had Mick Jagger on the cover, stating if one “is for them or against them.” The pages were yellowing and the magazine itself smelt damped, but I couldn’t tell if it was caused by water damage or just the aging process of its pages. I took the magazine, and carefully walked down the stairs, and out the front exit of the building. I looked back and gave a deep bow toward the building, thinking “thank you for being here for so many years.” I took a photograph of the building, and then took the Metro bus line 2 back to Silverlake.