Dusty Springfield's Dusty in Memphis

What was so special about Memphis that producer Jerry Wexler took the diva of British pop there and created pop magic? Warren Zanes, 1980s teenage rock star in the Del Fuegos turned PhD (cultural studies) in the 1990s, has written a small book to find out, the first in a series on classic albums. Continuum offers its writers a lot more space than Greil Marcus did in Stranded - 32,000 words by my count - and Zanes uses it brilliantly. His essay isn't academic deconstruction but a mix of personal passion, acute perceptions and old-fashioned journalistic leg work. Being a musician helps his analysis of what makes the album so special, but even more so is his understanding of Southern culture. He writes of the creatures inhabiting the album; when he hears the opening to `Breakfast in Bed' ("You've been crying, your face is a mess. Come in, baby, you can dry your tears on my dress") he pictures Cloris Leachman in The Last Picture Show. To understand these characters means grasping how the South serves as the backdrop to it all. Not just the South that's there, but the South that's in the popular imagination. "Sweating, carnal, obsessed with the past, violent, agrarian despite the times, natural, authentic, certainly unpredictable ... it sometimes seems that [the weed] kudzu is simply the plant form of a mythology that has already covered the region." Zanes' ideas about the spirit of the South, how it connects with literature, with history, with civil rights and with trash culture - and how it shapes its music - are beautifully expressed and convey a deep understanding of the milieu. His book is unpretentious but profound, avoids hype and self-indulgence while going off on always-relevant tangents that take in Flannery O'Connor, Huck Finn, Alan Lomax, The Dukes of Hazzard and To Kill a Mockingbird. He talks to Wexler and co-producer Chips Moman and, best of all, tracks down Stanley Booth, recluse writer and professional Southerner, who wrote the original liner notes (and the sublime True Adventures of the Rolling Stones). He quotes the influence of a boys adventure book from his youth ("In the North, young men dream about the South. The more discriminating among them slide down the darkness and go straight to Memphis") and explains the magic of Memphis, and Springfield's uncanny way of capturing it. "Led by a singer in a mask, the team that made Dusty in Memphis went after beauty and came up with a little truth." Zanes' essay is the best extended think-piece I have read on music since "Mystery Train", or the contributors to "Stranded". The other writers in the first Continuum series (covering the Kinks' Village Green Preservation Society, Love's Forever Changes, the Smiths' Meat is Murder, Neil Young's Harvest and Pink Floyd's Piper at the Gates of Dawn) have a hard act to follow. (By the way, Linda Bowden's misunderstanding of what this book is about is typified by her connecting it to the Coltrane "Love Supreme" book: that is a completely different

Much more interesting than those dry, allegedly objective accountings of albums, this one takes into consideration the personality and experiences of person who is doing the observing and is therefore, at heart, a much more serious exploration of the transformative powers of art . Zanes' lively approach illuminates not just our understanding of a particular work but also delves into the fascinatingly complex relationship between myth and reality; his own, Dusty's, and maybe even yours, too. The insights in this surprising little jewel of a book will rattle around in you head long after you've put it down.

Dusty in Memphis was my first dip into the 33 1/3 series, and it's set the bar high. Zanes has the ability to write seriously, think seriously and create an enjoyable, often funny read along the way. His meditation on the American South gives the Dusty fan fresh perspective on her music and a new understanding of American music and culture as a whole. Thoroughly entertaining (see the story on his exotic childhood neighbor) and highly recommended.

Given the range of ways we respond to music, it's odd that we have so few ways to write about music.  This isn't the case with the visual arts, so why must it be the case with the aural arts?  In the visual arts, criticism often goes beyond straightforward history and evaluation.  If I've often wished that the same could happen in relation to music writing, Warren Zanes has answered my wish.  Zanes digs deep to understand how, in his words,  a seminal album, Dusty in Memphis, got under his skin.  In the process, he goes to some unlikely places.  But, most importantly, he reminds us that our experience of music is not simple--we make bizarre, even if unconscious, connections as we listen.  Music takes us to strange places, otherwise it would not be as important to us as it is.  If you want dry facts, perhaps this is not for you.  But if you want to see music writing expand its possibilities, then this is a book you should read.  I returned to my Dusty in Memphis CD with a new capacity to listen, really listen.