Showing posts with label Miles Davis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Miles Davis. Show all posts

Sunday, 5 October 2025

Retratos de Jazz

by Haruki Murakami and Makoto Wada
translated by Juan Francisco González Sánchez

I saw this brand new book in the library and couldn’t just leave it there. But what’s this? First edition, March 2025? Spanish translation, © 2025? Is that correct?

Yes, it is. This is the first Spanish edition. The Catalan version, translated by Albert Nolla, also appeared this year. The book, as ポートレイト・イン・ジャズ (Pōtoreito in jazu), was first published in 1997 by Shinchosha and so far hasn’t been translated to English.

Even though the order of the authors on the cover may imply otherwise, the book is not a collection of writings by Murakami illustrated by Wada. Just the opposite: a series of portraits created by Wada to which Murakami provided short essays, with a recommendation of one album, from his vast collection of vinyls. The first edition of the book contained 52 portraits, and the for the second edition the authors added three “bonus tracks”, that is, portraits of Art Pepper, Frank Sinatra and Gil Evans.

What I found surprising is how unsurprising is the selection of the musicians. All featured artists are American, apart from Django Reinhardt, Oscar Peterson and Gil Evans, and then both Peterson and Evans spent most of their lives in the United States. This is not to say that I dislike any one of Wada’s choices. Besides, it’s the music both authors were growing with.

Of course, the same argument could be applied to album recommendations, although in this case they were chosen by Murakami. I was pleased to see there Ella and Louis Again, Full House, The Sidewinder, Waltz for Debby and Maiden Voyage; I completely agree with Murakami that the latter album is indeed the Herbie Hancock best work. I thought so in the 1990s, I still think the same in 2025. But I am puzzled why no original recordings by Tony Bennett, Glenn Miller or Fats Waller were recommended. There seems to be no good explanation apart from that the corresponding tribute albums just happened to be in Murakami’s collection.

As a curiosity, Murakami says that he wrote South of the Border, West of the Sun being convinced that he heard the version of South of the Border by Nat King Cole. In reality, this song was never a part of Cole’s repertoire. One of the albums that Murakami recommends is ¡Olé Tormé! which, indeed, contains South of the Border. I couldn’t find a confirmation that George Gershwin based character of Sportin’ Life on Cab Calloway, but it’s a good story anyway.

I like Murakami’s sense of humour, like, for example, here:

Desconozco cuántos fans de Eddie Condon quedan hoy en día, pero tengo la impresión de que no deben de ser demasiados. <...> Trataba de mimetizarse con la escenografía para no llamar la atención, y por mucho que uno aguzara el oído, no lograba entender qué estaba tocando exactamente a la guitarra.

Or writing about Oscar Peterson:

Su discografía no conoce obras fallidas; toda ella mantiene un nivel considerablemente alto, y, sin embargo, debo confesar que no me entusiasma demasiado, no como para correr a comprar sus discos. Es cierto que en casa tengo más de cincuenta de sus álbumes como solista...

The translation by Juan Francisco González Sánchez is a pleasure to read, albeit I have to say that the use of the words cedé (for CD) and elepé (for LP) irritated me a lot. There is a number of typos, such as Kind of Blues instead of Kind of Blue, and some catalogue numbers are wrong, although those could have come unchecked from the Japanese original. I hope they will be corrected in the future editions.

Soundtrack

Saturday, 8 July 2023

La Rive Gauche: Arte, pasión y el renacer de París, 1940–1950

by Agnès Poirier
translated by Ignacio Villaro Gumpert
A rhubarb what?
A rhubarb tart!
A Jean-Paul who?
A Jean-Paul Sartre!
John Cleese, Rhubarb Tart Song (1968)
Один Жан-Поль Сартра лелеет в кармане
И этим сознанием горд,
Другой же играет порой на баяне
Сантану и Weather Report.
Аквариум, «Два тракториста» (1981)

I haven’t read anything by Jean-Paul Sartre yet. The two quotes above pretty much summarise the extent of my knowledge of him before reading this book; that is, practically nothing.

To my surprise, La Rive Gauche places Sartre and his lifelong friend Simone de Beauvoir in the very centre of French cultural life of the 1940s. And not just philosphising, as philosphers do: apparently, Sartre was selling his books by truckloads. So pretty famous then*. Still, I feel he was given disproportionate space in the book. (Cf. meagre one page allotted to his neighbour on the book cover, one Miles Davis.) I have to say that both Sartre and the Beaver, together with the likes of Saul Bellow, Arthur Koestler and Pablo Picasso, come out as a thoroughly unpleasant bunch. Of course this is not the author’s fault although probably it wasn’t her intention either.

The book is carefully researched and lively written; also, well-translated. There is even a map to trace the characters’ perambulations around Paris.

Curiously enough, it was first published in English (not French, as I thought) and called Left Bank: Art, Passion and the Rebirth of Paris 1940–1950. “Left Bank”, what nonsense! Anyway, I read it in Spanish and the title sounds much better, n’est-ce pas? I found the Part One, Mi maestra fue la guerra: julio de 1938 – agosto de 1945 (“War Was My Master: July 1938 – August 1945” in the original), most fascinating. (Read the first chapter, La caída “The Fall”, here.) The story of Jacques Jaujard was a revelation for me — I wish the book focused more on true heroes like him rather than “the Family”.


* In the film I just watched, L’Événement, the literature students of the early sixties compare Camus with Sartre; the discussion does not go in favour of the latter who they feel is too opaque. By the end of the decade, I suppose, “Jean-Paul who” became largely irrelevant.

Wednesday, 25 March 2020

Miles en París

by Salva Rubio and Sagar

One day in April 1949, a 22-year-old trumpeter called Miles Davis received an unexpected phone call. His friend Kenny Clarke invited him to play at the Paris International Jazz Festival. After initial reluctance Miles, who had never been abroad before, accepted the invitation. In Paris he met the actress and singer Juliette Gréco and... Did I say too much?

How come that two Spaniards authored and published this book first in French, as Miles et Juliette, and the Spanish version second, I wonder. The dialogue in the “original” must be in Franglais because in Miles en París it is in Spanglish, or even Franglañol. So what?

Sunday, 10 March 2013

Tacones lejanos

a film by Pedro Almodóvar

Last week, La Sexta was treating us to Universo Almodóvar. By some reason, this film was shown even without Spanish subtitles, so there are, um, gaps in my understanding of the dialogue. So what. Bold colours, Miles Davis’s Sketches of Spain, great actors. The further highlights include one of the most funny lovemaking scenes I’ve ever seen; Rebeca’s confession live on TV (with sign language interpretation); and a totally unexpected prison-yard dance.

Lady prisoners dance the merengue: Pecadora by Los Hermanos Rosario.