Oral Specs
As penance for my absence, please accept the above snippet of video shot live at my Vancouver book launch on October 6. Yes, that is Lisa Marr and Lisa G of cub reuniting live on stage. And yes, that is Lisa Marr’s 98-year-old grandmother holding up the lyrics. Thanks to Windwalker’s Anthony Hempell for shooting it. Yay life!
Anyway, hi. I know it’s been awhile, but in my defence I’ve been out there on the streets accidentally dropping the book into people’s hands—this is very hard to do with a computer in those same hands. Many of you were at the launch here in Vancouver on October 6, and for that I am super duper thankful. Photos are close to being compiled, as is a video of the night’s festivities (even more awesome than the above); stay tuned!
Further to the book dropping, I’ve just returned from a lovely book-related trip to Toronto, in which I got to sit down and chat with the awesome Chandler Levack one afternoon at Soundscapes (side note: Please go to Soundscapes if you’re in Toronto. It’s a great store and they deserve your business). In the course of our interview we spoke a bit about oral histories, and what challenges and benefits they entail. This got me thinking about oral histories in general, and why I like them.
If you can stomach the idea of comparing books to films (sacrilege!), I like the oral history because it is, on a certain level, similar to a documentary film with several subjects. You get the richness of all of those voices, a conversational flow, and a semi-objective lens through which to view your subjects. The interference of the writer is often minimal (though she/he is shaping the story by including or excluding certain pieces of conversation, and by the shape of the included dialogue), which allows the story to be shaped by events and causation rather than narrative dictates.
Most importantly, there’s an immediacy to the oral history that’s not often found in other forms of culture journalism. Furthermore, the oral history serves as a great way to consider the limitations and warping power of memory and emotion—what we remember can differ from telling to telling, and this form allows you to examine that firsthand. And most most importantly, to me: this was Mint’s story. The oral history form was simply the best way to tell it.
I’ve also been asked a few times which oral histories I like best. My top three cultural oral histories are:
1) Please Kill Me by Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain
Irresistably ragged tale of the New York punk rock scene through the 1970s. It begins with Lou Reed sitting down and saying “All by myself. No one to talk to. Come over here so I can talk to you.” And thus a grand conversation commences, between the most interesting musicians of the 20th century. The complexity and beauty of it is amazing and instructive. Best.
2) Walk this Way by Aerosmith with Stephen Davis
I am an unabashed Aerosmith fan, so there’s that, but it was also the charming, clippy pace of this that hooked me. Great storytelling, told by those with great stories. That people who do this many drugs have the capacity for memory these guys do is almost unbelievable (see also: #1, Motley Crue’s Dirt, etc.).
3) Live From New York by Tom Shales and James Andrew Miller
I am also a massive SNL fan. See the pattern? Oral histories, on the whole, are for fans—not really the casual reader’s thing, this. First of all, it’s over 650 pages. Be brave. (In some sense, this is the oral history that taught me whatnot to include as much as what to include.) But moreso, this book posits the oral history as celebration—an invitation to marvel.
Which leads to a final thought: Thinking about the oral history made me realize that oral histories tend to be written about LARGE, IMPORTANT cultural entities. This is because there’s a reverence towards the subject in this form, both in the sense that you wouldn’t dare edit their words, and that you would hold them at a reverent remove. Writing an oral history about a small Canadian indie label was therefore also a choice of positioning—to hold Mint Records aloft alongside punk rock, for example, is to say “They’re worth it. Vancouver is worth it. These people are worth it.”
So, there it is. Oral History 101. You all passed. Except you, Chevy Chase.*
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*Chevy Chase is a big dick in Live From New York. So much so that his charming turn on Community is almost enough to redeem him, but not quote. Yep, he’s that bad.