“I held the face of mister angel like a baby or a football in the crook of my arm and bashed him with my knuckles, bashed him until his teeth broke and through his lips. But there are lots of prominent verbs: people are always doing things, the action is always moving forward. It isn’t just that there isn’t any hooptedoodle – there aren’t even many adjectives. The result in Fight Club is sparse, fast-paced and direct. I don’t want all that other extraneous stuff, all those abstract, chicken-shit descriptions.” I want that immediacy when I read a novel. “I try to tell a story the way someone would tell you a story in a bar, with the same kind of timing and pacing. “I like to cut to the chase,” the author told O’Hagan. In an Observer interview with Palahniuk in 2005, Sean O’Hagan wrote: “If I were to hazard a guess as to why Chuck Palahniuk has so much money, and such a devoted global fan base, I would say that it is mainly because he writes novels for the kind of people who don’t normally read novels.” Dan Brown is also said to appeal to people who don’t normally read much - and the assumption I always take from that is that his prose is so bad, those poor people will never open another book. Fight Club is worth preserving for its aphorisms alone. You don’t need me to tell you that this book is endlessly quotable - the chances are that you’ve heard all these lines repeated many times before. “I wanted to destroy everything beautiful I’d never have.” It’s only after you lose everything that you’re free to do anything.” “The things you used to own, now they own you. “This is your life and its ending one moment at a time.” Tylor Durden may cause endless controversy, but there’s no arguing about how forcefully he expresses himself: After all, it’s the skill in the writing that gives all those concepts and ideas such impact. The ideas in the book are all so fist-in-your-face, I didn’t pause to think about whether I should open the discussion on the Reading Group last week by asking about Fight Club’s politics - it just felt right.īut now, I’d like to redress the balance. The ideas and politics in Fight Club are so overwhelming, it is hard to focus on it simply as a piece of writing. It took a while for Fight Club to go big: when it came out, it was the debut novel from an unknown writer with an initial print run of 10,000 copies (which took years to sell). It’s also possibly because there weren’t that many critical reviews in the first place. This is partly thanks to the fact that it came out in 1996, just before the internet started preserving book reviews for posterity. What I haven’t seen is much discussion of the book as a work of art. I’ve also seen lots of political opinion purportedly built from the book, on the likes of the websites that mentioned in last week’s Reading Group article. I’ve seen dozens of articles about real life Fight Clubs, about “constructs of masculinity”, patriarchal power, and similar.
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Ok, true, it gets a little carried away, especially the bass player, but since that bassist (and song arranger) is a pre-Zeppelin John Paul Jones, we’ll let him off. Dusty Springfield demonstrates the promise Arif Martin could see in her, as he transplanted her, if briefly, from the supper clubs of the UK to Memphis and Muscle Shoals. Dusty Springfield–Piece of My Heart (Erma Franklin cover)įinally, a slow and starker take on “Piece of My Heart,” where the less fuss in the background is undoubtedly more. I am not sure how much emotion is conveyed in his stylized croonings here, but the brittleness is curiously effective, a bleaker and colder approach. Ferry seems again in the ascendant, as an elder statesman and live performer, the world perhaps as ready for these arch interpretations as at any time during his waxing and waning critical worth. Coming from his debut solo outing, 1973’s These Foolish Things, with Roxy mark one still very much a going concern, this all-covers LP is possibly due for reappraisal. Bryan Ferry–Piece of My Heart (Erma Franklin cover)Ĭoming as a pleasing plate cleanser, Bryan Ferry’s trademark kitsch is here in spades. “Just say no, kids” exuding out of every open pore, David Johansen’s near-death mask visage and frame is as scary as is his “what key is this” vocal. I had to run around the back and play it again, so astonishing I found it and on so many levels. What it lacks in vocal prowess, it more than makes up for in sheer chutzpah. So I was delighted to dig out this extraordinary live 2004 version from the reformed remnants of the New York Dolls. Speaking personally, I can’t stomach many of them, through the gargle of Melissa Etheridge to the gravel of Nazareth. Given BB&THC were nominally a rock band, it is unsurprising there are many such rock versions of “Piece of My Heart” out there. New York Dolls–Piece of My Heart (Erma Franklin cover) Hill later put out what was supposed to be a punchier version, showing she had now heard Janis, but, again, her first cut is the deepest. She’s aided and abetted by the Nashville production, for once demonstrating the ditch between country and soul, rather than the more frequently found similarities when the one genre covers the other. Thus, with no fear or taint of comparison, she actually gives a whole different nuance to the lyric. It was probably just as well that Faith Hill had apparently never heard either the original “Piece of My Heart”–or, indeed, any other version of the song–when her producer put it to her as an idea. Faith Hill–Piece of My Heart (Erma Franklin cover) There are innumerable live versions and recordings, but it is this one that first blew away the cobwebs, and it is still the best. It made a superstar of the singer, remained her signature song for the rest of her foreshortened career, and ultimately sealed her fate as being too big for the band. Their 1968 version of “Piece of My Heart” kicked Erma’s dignified rendition around a bit, adding Joplin’s heart, liver, and lungs to Franklin’s soul, along with the electric guitar of James Gurley, taking it to #12 on the charts. And Janis, once unleashed onto the stage, became a frenzy of sweat and tears, her voice a coruscating tsunami of wracked angst. They took on the quiet bespectacled singer who catapulted them to fame, Janis Joplin. That may well have been that, had it not caught the ears of a certain band beginning to make waves in the Bay Area.īig Brother & the Holding Company–Piece of My Heart (Erma Franklin cover)īig Brother and the Holding Company, already an established band locally, were short of a strong vocalist. (Berns had, unsuccessfully, first offered it to Van, which could have been intriguing.) Her rendition was good, very good even, hitting a credible #62 in the chart. It was Aretha’s little sister, Erma Franklin, who first tried out “Piece of My Heart,” in 1967. Berns was responsible for, amongst other things, our first glimpse of Van Morrison, performing the early singles of Them, “Here Comes the Night” and “Baby, Please Don’t Go.” Ragovoy also had a hand in “Stay With Me, Baby,” arguably the other song of a heart breaking in explosive slo-mo. “Piece of My Heart” was written by Jerry Ragovoy and Bert Berns, both jobbing songwriters with a slew of hits to their credit, individually and collectively. So, fewer hidden nuggets to unearth, but more fond reminders of times mislaid to be gained by revisiting. But surprisingly (and not a little disappointingly), whilst there are many of them, most are known nearly as well known as the first cover, many making waves in the charts of their particular day. You would think there would be a ton of good and/or quirky covers of “Piece of My Heart,” it being such an icon of overwrought emoting. |