Bicycle Diaries
by David Byrne
(Viking Adult)

There’s something refreshingly edifying about cruising around the world by bicycle with David Byrne. On the one hand, you get some of the keener sights and sounds of the various cities he visits. On the other, you get Byrne’s keen-eyed take of the proceedings. And whether the former Talking Head is biking through Berlin or Buenos Aires, Sydney or Istanbul, there’s always something there which seems to shed light on something else.

Indeed, as Byrne notes in his “Introduction,” though “many of the things [he’s] written about cities might be viewed as a kind of self-examination, with the city functioning as a mirror,” he also believes “that a visitor staying briefly can read the details, the specifics made visible, and then the larger picture and the city’s hidden agendas emerge almost by themselves.” To Byrne, “[e]conomics is revealed in shop fronts and history in door frames.” And “as the microscope moves in for a closer look, the perspective widens at the same time.”

This being Byrne, of course, there are just as many sounds as there are sights, and they all somehow seem to connect. In Buenos Aires, he sits in with a local band called La Portuaria, whose singer, Diego Frenkel, is friends with Juana Molina, who had joined Byrne on his US tour. Molina’s father, Horatio, was also a musician, and the likes of Vinicius De Moraes and Chico Buarque were frequent guests in her childhood home. All this talk of bossa nova royalty comes after another evening crossing paths with members of Orquestra El Arranque and Los Autenticos Decadentes, the former endeavoring to fuse tango with electronica, while the latter has a singer who happens to be an expert in Mexican narco corridos, the ballads that glamorize the exploits of drug dealers and traffickers.

In addition to the music, Byrne takes an inordinate interest in what might best be described as “despot kitsch.” In Berlin, he visits the former headquarters of the Stasi, East Germany’s notorious secret police, and marvels at the “clunky spy devices.” And in Manila, he goes all agog over Marcos memorabilia, from the saintly paintings of Imelda to Fernando’s refrigerated glass tomb. And Byrne manages to maintain an almost wide-eyed wonder with every treacherous turn of the wheel.

As you might suspect, Byrne, who’s been biking since the ’70s, also has some very serious notions about how cities could better accommodate his favorite mode of transportation. And in New York, where he lives, of course, he’s become somewhat of a de facto advocate, doing everything from organizing a night of two-wheeled celebration to designing a series of one-of-a-kind bike stands that can now be found throughout the town.

Best thing about Diaries, though, is that you get to ride around the world and see it all through the eyes of a knowledgeable friend, and you get to do it without working up a proverbial sweat. – John Hood

Bomp! 2: Born in the Garage
Edited by Suzy Shaw and Mike Stax
(Bomp! / UT Publishing)

Taking its name from the Barry Mann hit of the same name, Who Put the Bomp (later called Bomp!) was one of the earliest rock ‘n’ roll fanzines, run by the late, luminous rock enthusiast Greg Shaw. In its ’70s heyday, the ‘zine was an early outlet for writers like Lester Bangs, Ken Barnes, and Richard Meltzer, taking the obsessive fan approach to both emerging rock artists and bygone underground sensations.

The first Bomp! book, 2007’s Bomp! Saving the World One Record at a Time, was a full-color combination of writing, photographs, interviews, and personal correspondence. To follow this up, the soft cover collection Bomp! 2: Born in the Garage buckles down to focus on the ‘zine’s written content itself. It features 300 pages of black-and-white, full-page reproductions of the magazine’s best material during its 1970-81 run, and alongside Who Put the Bomp and Bomp!, it also features several excerpts from Shaw’s private ‘zines like Metanoia and Liquid Love, originally only circulated among his friends and colleagues. The book also features new articles from Alec Palao, Jon Savage, Mike Stax, Ken Barnes, illustrator William Stout, and Suzy Shaw, Greg’s ex-wife and business partner, who co-edited this collection and provides a moving introduction.

These reproductions are fascinating, especially for the way they show how print music magazines functioned as an early form of social networking—bringing people together who might never otherwise meet, and providing an outlet for those inclined to typewrite complete discographies for their favorite band or label. Along with detailed scene reports, some of the most fascinating stuff here are the readers’ letters in the ‘zine’s “Feedback” section, which range from nerdy clarifications to outpourings of love for bands or particular articles. Although  the book features several other great writers, the lion’s share of the writing here is by Greg Shaw himself, documenting his various rock fascinations. Bomp! 2 is a terrific value, providing a very deep overview of an iconic ‘zine and an influential voice in the realm of rock journalism. – Michael Harkin

Eating the Dinosaur
by Chuck Klosterman
(Scribner)

People seem to either love or hate Chuck Klosterman. For a writer of music, pop culture, and sports, that is a great position to be in. His voice is pronounced enough that a lot of people have an opinion of him, and I’d say that constitutes many writers’ definition of success. I love the way Klosterman writes. I think he’s funny, self-deprecating, insightful, interesting, and I can relate to him. I find him to be completely unpretentious, and that can be a tricky thing to find in well-known music journalists. That lack of pretension is the singular quality by which I fell for him. Klosterman does, however, write himself into corners, and it affected the way I consumed Eating the Dinosaur. He makes sweeping statements, and then writes and writes himself into a place where he can’t get out. Here is one example of an inclusive statement like this in Eating the Dinosaur that I take with a grain of salt: “People don’t want to think about singers as humans; they want to think of them as entities who create songs for humans.”

However, as usual, Klosterman makes excellent insights, and if nothing else, he got me mulling over certain topics that I otherwise wouldn’t have spent too much, if any, time thinking about. There is a chapter on Nirvana’s post-Nevermind album, In Utero, where Klosterman argues, among many other points regarding that period in the band’s life, that this album that was intentionally made to alienate Nirvana’s fanbase, which in turn garnered them further critical and commercial acclaim that Kurt Cobain never wanted. All true. Klosterman gets into the psyche of Cobain, and it’s a tragic bit. I haven’t really thought about Cobain in a while, and I’m glad that I did. Another chapter is about Garth Brooks, most notably about the period in his life when he created an alter ego for himself called Chris Gaines, and how this ties into his personal authenticity, as well as our collective understanding of authenticity as a culture. There is a chapter on ABBA where Klosterman claims their music is not “ABBA music” but “ABBA Music” because the band is a genre unto itself. Not sure I agree with that, but Klosterman makes an interesting case. Additionally, I found out that ABBA was once offered one billion dollars to reunite. Klosterman also discusses Weezer’s inability to please their fans, football, time travel, and the manifesto of the Unabomber. All interesting topics, no doubt.

I’ll never doubt Klosterman’s intellect or ability to pen an eloquent sentence or even hundreds of pages bound within the covers of a book. At times, I may scoff in disbelief, but in the following passage, I’ll probably learn something new, and possibly even profound. Love him or loathe him, Klosterman can still produce great writing that inspires you to think about social norms and practices. Whether he’s right or wrong, he’s generally worth the read, and Eating the Dinosaur is no exception. – Angela Zimmerman

The 50th Law
by 50 Cent and Robert Greene
(HarperStudio)

The Tao of Wu
by The RZA with Chris Norris
(Riverhead Books)

Let’s get right down to it. 50 Cent was catapulted into super stardom after coming within an inch of his life following an assassination attempt from an old drug-related beef. The RZA formed the Wu-Tang Clan and signed with Loud Records—but his insistence on each member of the Clan being able to go outside of Loud for solo gigs expanded the concept and reach of a band beyond what was thought possible. Both of these artists’ books contain valuable lessons, whether you’re trying to overtake a label or just struggling to maintain.

In Fifty’s corner, there’s the estimable co-writer Robert Greene, whose Machiavellian The 48 Laws of Power has become a tome in hip-hop circles: Read, recited, and adhered to. Like that book, The 50th Law uses historical and philosophical examples to illuminate key moments in Fifty’s ascent from crack peddler to music beast slayer.

While Fifty was recovering from his near murder, he dealt with two problems: Columbia Records had dropped him out of concern for his violent associations, and there was still someone trying to kill him. So in order for him to wage his mixtape campaign on the streets, Fifty needed security. He convened his 20 best-armed friends at his grandma’s house and painted his vision:

“[Fifty] was going to forge a business empire and he wanted to take all of [his friends] with him. Whatever any of them wanted, he would provide, as long as they proved themselves dependable… ‘You are like my pack of wolves,’ he explained, ‘but none of this will happen if the alpha wolf is killed.’” Security in place, Fifty began his astronomical rise.

Like Fifty, RZA struggled through jail time and spent time dealing before hitting his stride. After beating a bogus rap, he meditated until he was prepared to found the Wu-Tang Clan. RZA called a curbside meeting—Method Man almost missed it, as he was walking straight into an ambush when RZA hollered at him across the street—and set out the parameters of his plan:

“I said, ‘Give me five years and I will take us to number one […]’ I said that no one could question my authority. It had to be a dictatorship. I didn’t say I was the toughest nigga in the crew, but with what I had in mind, I had to be the so-called leader.”

RZA’s vision sold millions of records during those five years, but he eventually ceded power. No matter, The Tao of Wu (co-written with cultural critic Chris Norris) is not about power, it is more generally about living. RZA’s worldview borrows strains from Islam, the Five Percent Nation, Christianity, martial arts, Buddhism, numerology, mathematics, and beyond. “I’ve been able to talk to people about my life, to tell them I’m not a Muslim, a Buddhist, a Christian, a gangster, a thug, or a prophet. I’m not any one of these things, although in a way I’m all of them.”

I can’t possibly offer a simple conclusion; both books prompt further thoughtful discussion. But for everyone looking for a tidbit that doesn’t apply to music industry takeover, here’s how each book deals with conflict avoidance, something you can use in your everyday life:

50 Cent: “The way I learned it, the kid in the school yard who doesn’t want to fight always leaves with a black eye. If you indicate you’ll do anything to avoid trouble, that’s when you get trouble.”

RZA: “[There] was a big, loud party. [A]fter I burned these MCs down, this one dude got jealous and pulled out a gun […] So I started talking shit right back. I held up a bag I was carrying and started laughing—saying, ‘Yo, I got the biggest Tec in the world!’  [T]hat bag didn’t have anything in it but my lessons and a screwdriver. Even so, my projection backed that dude down.” – David MacFadden-Elliott

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