MEDIA COOL

MEDIA COOL

this Month’s Media Cool was written by Bill Holdship, Dave Segal, Richard C. Walls, J. Kordosh and Jeffrey Morgan

TRAPPED:

MICHAEL JACKSON AND THE CROSSOVER DREAM by Dave Marsh (Bantam)

As Marsh himself says close to the end of Trapped: “...the story of Michael Jackson has burned out...everybody is ready to move on to the next thing,” so, indeed, isn’t it a bit late in the day for someone to be writing a Jackson bio? Especially when it’s by someone like Marsh who should be above and beyond such hack prose? Obviously not. Every second chapter is devoted to his ongoing “Dear Michael” letter, the gist of which can be summed up in his rant on pages 205 and 206 wherein Marsh gushes, “I’m pissed off because the opportunity to do just one little thing—show people the lie on which racism is based—was squandered, thrown away, pissed upon.” Then again, a little further on, Marsh makes another complaint to Jackson, “Pretty tacky to put the Pepsi logo on a T-shirt that you were selling for 13 bucks, I thought, but bought three for my kids back home anyhow,” so I figure I guess I can understand his stooping so low to pen this epic. After all, if I shelled out 40 bucks for Michael Jackson T-shirts, I’d try and make my money back off the guy, too. J.M.

101 DALMATIONS (Walt Disney Films)

This was my favorite movie when I was five years old, and it’s still a delight 25 years later. Disney didn’t just create state-of-the-art animation; he created magic, especially when you consider this film in relation to most of the junk that passes for cartoons on Saturday morning TV these days. There’s a lot of thought behind the “kid’s story” here, not to mention dozens of laughs for “kids” of any age. It also saVs something about how we treat our furry, four-legged friends (i.e., fur coats suck), so it has a special appeal for animal lovers, especially those of us who are partial to dogs. Plus villain Cruella Deville was years ahead of the time with her salt & pepper haircut and decadent elegance—a true punk camp queen for any era. Take a child along with you for extra kicks. B.H.

THE ROLLING STONE JAZZ RECORD GUIDE Edited by John Swenson (Random House)

This worthy effort is a little on the skimpy side as though the participants were, finally, overwhelmed by the project. One of the main problems is the decision to limit the guide to records officially in print, since it leads to such glaring MIA’s as Marion Brown, Andrew Hill and Yusef Lateef. Really, the best way to deal with what Swenson calls “the maddeningly transitory nature of jazz releases” is to ignore it since so much of jazz record collecting is scouring the budget bins anyway. Still, a decent book for neophytes though the judgments often have to be taken on faith; space limitations usually prohibit in-depth explanations. An interesting browse for vets and checklist freaks, and I hope the groundwork for a more comprehensive attempt. R.C.W.

TALKING HEADS by David Gans (Avon)

It looks like a frivolous scrapbook judging by its cover—dig those zany “new wave” graphics and colors!—but this is a serious appraisal of the intelligentsia’s favorite rock band. Maybe too serious. Gans cuts the crap, tells it straight and lets the original four Heads do most of the talking. The dull photo captions and humorless prose style are overshadowed by the utterly fascinating info from David, Chris, Tina and Jerry on how they write.

From the band’s first rehearsals in ’75 to last year’s Little Creatures and all the spin-off projects in between, the workmanlike Gans places the Heads’ ever-changing music into perspective, vis a vis the spectrum of the rock world. Includes 72 B&W photos (in 132 pages) and the most thorough discography you’re ever likely to see. The book makes you ache to listen to the entire TH catalogue.D.S.

DANGERMOUSE (Syndicated TV)

Just listen to the theme song: “He’s the greatest, he’s the best... whenever there is danger, he’ll be there...Dangermouse... powerhouse.’’ Hey, the theme song isn’t kidding: D.M. (as he is known far and wide) is, indeed, the greatest secret agent in the world. That he’s also a normal-sized (albeit two-legged, one-eyed) white mouse shouldn’t surprise anyone, for (as the theme sing sez) “He’s the ace!” Along with his bungling sidekick, Penfold (a normalsized hamster), D.M. is dedicated to thwarting the unbelievably evil schemes of Baron Greenback (a normalsized frog), his arch-and-only enemy. A typical episode: the Baron is stealing the world’s tea, sending it to outer space. D.M. saves Penfold by hurling a saucer, frisbee-like, to earth, while the hapless hamster clings to the crockery. When Colonel K— D.M.’s harrumpish boss, asks how he managed that trick (pointing out that it’s scientifically impossible), D.M. explains: “But, Chief, this is just a cartoon.” I beg to differ...the only American series that compares for sheer non-stop nonsense would be The Bui twinkle Show. This British adventure in non sequitur animation is dry, puckish and, in general, the ace. J.K.