LENNY BRUCE The Real Lenny Bruce • (Fantasy) What I Was Arrested For (Casablanca)

Okay, let’s face it; things have got a bit out of hand here. Lenny Bruce has become not only a martyred near saint, but also one hellofa commercial property—plays, movies, books, T-shirts (watch for the cocktail napkins).

Sure he was a funny cat, sure he was hassled a lot—and ain’t junkies always romantic after they’re dead? The truth of it is that he was a man with problems and insights who was funny in the earlier days of his career. Near the end of his life'he was so obsessed with legal transcripts and interpretations of legal points as to no longer be doing what he did best: holding up a bitter and funny mirror to the weaknesses and hypocrisy of humankind.

But Bruce was not the first free-association comic who got out there and winged it on the brain flashes and sound-of-word blowing, working not only with thoughts, but rhythms and soupds as well—ever hear of a dude named Lord Buckley? I’ll bet Bruce did, I can hear some of the Lord’s feelflow in Bruce bits...

Buckley had the manner of an English aristocrat and the syntax and sound of a down-home black dude; his repertoire consisted of classic speeches (“The Gettysburg Address,” “Marc Antony’s Funeral Oration”) and biblical and historical tales (“Jonah and the Whale,” “The Nazz” and many of Aesop's Fables) all translated into black-talk. He worked clubs and occasional TV shots. Buckley lived a strange life too. He organized his own church, The Church of Living Swing—one service with him and a pair of belly-dancers was raided by the vice squad, and there were tales of a California castle with a dwarf servant and bowls of tailormade joints on end tables. He was ultimately put out of business by the fuzz, who took away his cabaret license. Losing it meant he could no longer work NYC, and he died not long after of a heart attack.

Though he did have stock “bits,” he also freewheeled and if anything his imagination and execution was deeper than Bruce’s. Why po Lord Buckley cults or exploitations? Hard to say—maybe it’s like why Eric Clapton instead of Son House...

The point is that Bruce didn’t invent the comedy form of hip free-association, jazzoriented blowing—he just took it to one extreme farther and with more flash than anybody had before. His later albums (most of the ones released after his death) are uneven, filled with lots of boring rambling about his trials and appeals. A few have great moments, when the chemistry worked right, but for the most part they’re/more philosophising and complaining than entertainment.

Okay, that was part of his trip too (“I’m not a comedian, I’m Lenny Bruce”) but on that level I’ll take Lord Buckley’s philosophy to Bruce’s anyday. Bruce was an embittered man, and sure he had cause—his appearances were filled with jabs and barbs, he raged at all the lies he saw (even some of his own)—but in the end he got caught in defending words and routines that mattered to him only in principle. What counts is not that he died a tragic death, but that he did a lot of good work when he was still swinging.

These two albums capture much of his earlier material. Both are mostly live, recorded in clubs, and both consist mostly of “bits” rather than the later convoluted, disorganized raps. The Fantasy double-set (with one exception) comes from earlier albums on Fantasy—it’s sort of a “best of” collection. The problem there is the usual one: some things included may not be your favorites, and some things are omitted you might think belong there, but on the whole it’s pretty well balanced.

The set includes most of his big ones: “Thank You Masked Man,” “Religions Inc.," "How To Relax Your Colored Friends At Parties," “Comic At‘The Palladium,” “Father Flotski’s Triumph,” “Lima, Ohio,” and an expanded version of “The Sound” (the bit where Lawrence Welk is hiring a junkie musician...here that’s only part of a fantasy jazz movie). The previously unissued track is a 2½ minute song/rap with jazz piano-horndrums backing—a bizarre little nqvely number apparently designed for radio or juke-box play. The set also includes a long insert booklet by Ralph Gleason, chronicling Bruce’s history and explaining some of the more esoteric and by now dated references in Bruce’s bits, as well as photos. Like I said, there are a few bits I miss (the routine about motels and hotels and trailers as places for seducing chicks), and a few I could do without (“Non-Skeddo Airlines”), but on the whole this is the most comprehensive and complete collection of Bruce’s early work. If you think that Dustin Hoffman was Lenny, then you owe it to yourself to cop this and find out the truth.

The Casablanca album has been kicking around on different labels and under different titles for several years now—it first came out on Douglas (as in Alan, the cat who’s remixing the Hendrix tape library) as To Is, a Preposition; Come Is a Verb. Like the Fantasy set it’s more bits than raps,'but here they’re mostly short ones—quick little flashes lifted out of longer performances. When originally recorded the album couldn’t be released because of the language and ideas. In these days of boob references on the Johnny Carson show and all those “expletivedeleted” remarks showing up on' Midwestern front pages it seems pretty tame, bqt at the time it was fairly incendiary. There are a few classics here too: “Tits and Ass,” “To Is A Preposition,” “Would You Sell Out Your Country” and a rap on “Dirty Toilet Jokes”. This album served as a source for several of the routines Hoffman attempts in Lenny.

Put both albums together and you got a pretty good idea of Bruce—he was a hip, bitter and often insightful dude, and when everything worked his raps were as real as street-talk. Unless you’re into^the martyr trip these are the sides that cover who Lenny was and what he did best. Now how about a Lord Buckley revival?