lobsterman

Jul 9, 2007 at 10:58 PM
43 comments

With some trepidation, I ventured downtown after work with Emma and Yo Han for a Chuck Klosterman book signing/Q & A. I expected - more than a little bit, actually - that he would come off as a smarmy, self-satisfied douchebag, but I am pleased to report he was pretty much like I thought he'd be when I first started reading his work. Which is to say he seems like a reasonably cool and dorky guy with whom it would be enjoyable to have a few or ten beers. I might have over-thought things just a little bit. Or maybe he could be a colossal prick after all but has learned how to mitigate his prickish tendencies in order to move product.

I had a few questions at the ready but figuring most of his fans for music fiends, they were both sports questions. As it happened, most of the questions were sports questions, so I didn't ask them. Plus I'm a neurotic jackass who doesn't like to be the center of attention in a crowd of strangers. That also might have had something to do with it. All in all, it was a surprisingly more pleasant evening than I had expected. I just might join Daby and Nikki, who were unable to make it this evening, when they go tomorrow. Sure, he'll probably read the same piece, but the questions will be different. Who knows, maybe somebody will actually ask a question on the topic he writes about most. And then I can get in my sports questions.

And in the interest of padding this post, following is the best passage from his new book that I read on the way home. If you read it out loud and "talk like Poindexter" when you do so, you'll probably come pretty close to what Chuck Klosterman actually sounds like.

"Raspberet Beret," the best Prince song ever recorded, is followed by the Bangles' "Manic Monday," the best prince song ever recorded by somebody else. Prince supposedly gave "Manic Monday" to Susanna Hoffs in the hope that she would sleep with him. If I were Prince, that's all I would ever do - I'd write airtight singles for every female musician I ever met. As far as I can tell, the reason you write great songs is to become a rock star, and the reason you become a rock star is to have sex with beautiful, famous women. Why not cut out the middleman? Prince is a genius.

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Remind me sometime to tell you my creepy Chuck story, unless I've already told you it.

Hey Jodi, sometime you've got tell me that creepy Chuck story you mentioned.

I will, later.

No way, "Nothing Compares To You" is a way better song than "Manic Monday." And Sinead O'Connor is a way better singer than Susanna Hoffs. And with hair, Sinead is also more beautiful. Maybe also without hair. This Chuck guy is an idiot.

Have you ever heard Prince's version of "Nothing Compares 2 U?" It's terrible. It's so bad, actually, that a legitimate argument can be made that it's more Sinead's song than Prince's. The only Prince sung song by others that might be better than "Manic Monday" is "When U Were Mine," which Cyndi Lauper covered.

You can say that again. (You know about this Chuck guy being an idiot. I think he gets more and more full of himself with each successive book, and Chuck IV is so much utter bullshit that it's hard to believe someone published such bullshit).

How do you figure the new book is anymore bullshit than "Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs?" It's the same stuff, and it's all bullshit, really. Quibbling about it is like saying each Paul Westerberg record has gotten worse. They're all essentially the same record. I might agree if you were calling him out for publishing a collection of pre-released material, but that doesn't seem to be your point. What did CK do to you?

CK being creepy has nothing to do with how awful Chuck IV is. First of all, I knew going into it that it was an anthology of previously published stuff and one new, original story.

The story, a fiction piece, is so awful that I am surprised he allowed it to be published under his name. We're talking freshman creative writing awful.

Second of all, as he has published each new book it seems that Chuck gets more full of his hipster-dork persona, it's like he's believing his own press. It shows in his writing. A lot of the pieces in Chuck IV (that aren't about rock and rollers) have that "my perception is reality, so I have written, so it is" feel to them.
When I read this book (about a year ago), I got so angry with it that I wrote things like BULLSHIT! next to passages:
. . . by labeling things like Patrick Swayze as guilty pleasures, it somehow dictatates that (a) people should feel bad for liking things they sincerely enjoy, and (b) if these same people were not somehow coerced into watching Road House every time it comes on TBS, they'd just as likely be reading A Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man.

And while I know that a lot of these pieces are just magazine fluff pices, some of the writing is so corny and cliche that it's cringe-inducing.

If you want cringe-inducing, read "Perfect from Now On: How Indie Rock Saved My Life."

I rather enjoyed Chuck. He didn't insult stupid questions. He felt like the kind of guy you could have a beer with. What's the creepy story?

I like Chuck. I don't let the fact that I'm green with envy over what he does for a living interfere with that. Is it bad that I kind of agree with the Patrick Swayze passage?

Oh and on another note. I'd rather listen to Manic Monday than Nothing Compares 2 U, and I'd much rather look at Hoffs than O'Connor, hair notwithstanding.

Buuuut. Calling Rasberry Beret Prince's best song is beyond stupid. Everyone knows Little Red Corvette is his best song.

I don't even know who this Chuck is. From the passages you all have posted, he sounds like the scary love child of the American Psycho (I submit the profiles of Phil Collins, Whitney Houston, etd), and Nick Hornby. That's some awful, awful use of the English language.

But I thought about this some more. First off, the passage merely mentions Prince songs. Not Prince sung songs. And Nothing Compares to You is leaps and bounds better than Manic Monday. Manic Monday is bubble gum sweetened with nutrasweet, and Hoffs is barely more than a pretty face, much less a real singer. Lauper, I like. When You Were Mine is also a good song, but not as good as Nothing Compares to You. Sorry. 2 U.

Dave clearly doesn't have ears. Or eyes. Next you'll be going on about the wall of sound.

Look, if you were to tell me that Brad Pitt was hotter than, say, Ed Norton Jr., I wouldn't question your judgment. You'll just have to trust the heterosexual male contingent's stance that Susanna Hoffs is way sexier than Sinead O'Connor. My eyes work fine, thank you very much. As for the quality of their respective music, I've never owned an album by either, but I'd be less likely to change the radio dial if Manic Monday came on, because while it may be sugary and poppy, Nothing Compares 2 U (love that Prince spelling) is ponderous and overwrought, and I'll take sugary and poppy every time.

As for Herr Klosterman's use of the English language, I don't see any grammatical or stylistic flaws in either passage quoted here. So while you may disagree with his position on "Road House," I don't think his ability as a writer is in any real question.

Grammatically Klosterfuck is fine, it's the content not the mechanics I have problems with. If you like crappy pap, pop-culture bullshit, then CK is for you!

But really he's written the same damn book four times. He's a marketing genius, really.

For anyone interested, I'd get Fargo Rock City and skip the rest.

I, for one, appreciate someone willing to take an assertive position on "Road House." If I wanted to read bland simpering suggestions I'd visit Doc Paradox blog. "Hey guys, in my opinion maybe you want to kind of think about checking out [fill in the blank]." Fuck that. Grow a pair and convince me. And frankly, as Daby points out, his point about "Road House" is mostly right.

I will stipulate, though, that the fiction piece isn't very good. I only plowed through it because I'm a completist.

Also, in the Daby is right category (God, this is killing me): Susanna over Sinead. And it ain't even close. "Manic Monday" is a fine piece of bubblegum pop. And I sure do like me some Wall of Sound.

"Little Red Corvette" is Prince's best song. One a scale of one to ten, it's a ten. But "Raspberry Beret" (and "I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man," as well) is a nine point nine. One percent is an acceptable margin of error for claims on best song status. I could argue against them, certainly, and win - but it wouldn't be easy.

The bottom line is that Chuck Klosterman is incredibly adept at writing about the same meaningless shit that's important to me (football, heavy metal and the inferiority of soccer). Although I'm contractually obligated to hate him for having such a cool job, he makes me laugh my ass off, so it's tough for me to hold a grudge.

Have you read all his stuff?

Just Cocoa Puffs at this point, and a good amount of his contributions to Spin and ESPN. I bought Fargo Rock City today. I'm going to go all fan boy and have him sign it.

I just finished the new one this morning. I honestly have no idea what your problem is with it. It's inconceivable to me that anyone could like one of his books and not like them all.

Jodi, I think we all need to hear the creepy CK story. Dish.

When a writer becomes so derivative of their own work, it's easy to not like everything that doesn't hold up to their first, original piece.

Chuck's a one-trick pony. Which is great for him, because he's milking all the hipsters for their hard-earned dough and they are eating it up. buy the same product each time it comes out with a new package. Talk about polishing a turd. All the props to him and his people, they are all about the s-m-a-r-t.

I guess, if you take him as sort of brain-candy pop culture sweet nothings, he's okay. But I think Fargo Rock City was more than that, and it's just sad to see him reduced to paraphrasing himself over and over and over and over and over again.

Damnit, that was a bunch of poorly punctuated gobledygook. I'll shut up until I can actually come up with a coherent thought.

Is being "derivative of your own work" anything like "dabbling in everyone else's genre?" 'Cause I understand the concepts about the same. Though they seem to be diametrically opposite.

I guess it doesn't seem all that cynical to me. If I wrote a book expressing my opinions about soccer, Lloyd Dobler and Coldplay, I would be stunned and gratified if anyone saw fit to publish it. If a zillion little indie hipsters bought it up like it was the last life-jacket on the Titanic, I'd be awestruck...and I'd get crackin' sharing more of my opinions, cause lord knows I've got scads.

And doesn't his (apparently failed) foray into fiction indicate that he's trying to branch out?

I think being derivative of your own work means that you just keep watering down your original idea or voice. That's what Chuck is doing. Dabbling in genres means trying different things, at least to me it does.

Daby, I think you are helping me get at the crux of my problem with CK. When FRC first came out, I really fell for it hard. I thought it was funny and insightful and it revealed something about growing up in the midwest, his voice was original and fun.

Now, he's just relying on spewing his bullshit (albeit sometimes funny) opinions. I expected more from him and to see him take the easy way out is just disappointing. He's really just some two-bit hack who got lucky, no better, funnier, more original, or smarter than any of the 49 kabillion bloggers out there.

It's like he had this chance to really say SOMETHING and he's just saying nothing.

Well, I would submit that he is stylistically and technically better than most of those 49 kabillion bloggers (present company excepted, of course) which makes him a sort of uber-blogger for a certain generation (ours). I have yet to read Fargo Rock City (though I just bought a shiny new copy, and its next on the big list) but I found Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs to be jaw-droppingly funny.

It's hard to be funny. You can't fake it. Most people who try to be funny fail, and failed humor is one of the most depressing things on earth. Conversely, there may be nothing more satisfying than reading or viewing something that makes you laugh uncontrollably.

So the question is this: does it really matter if Klosterman doesn't have anything to say? Is that a venal sin? If he's consistently funny and stimulating, isn't that enough? Certainly there area plenty of authors who are neither funny, nor insightful, so can we give him points for batting .500?

See Daby, I would argue that he's not consistently funny and stimulating. Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puff was funny, I won't argue against that. But by books #3 and #4 the joke was worn thin. He needs a new schtick.

Maybe fiction is it. But he needs to work on that. Because that short story is beyond awful.

He doesn't need a new schtick. Book IV delivered just want I wanted: more funny and stimulating essays and artist profiles. If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

He said last night his next book is fiction. I probably won't read it. I want more funny and stimulating essays. I don't care about his fiction.

Oh I will read his fiction, just so I can continue being smug and superior.

I must say, my impression of him is, if anything, improved after last night's performance. He was engaging enough that I wasn't even too terribly annoyed at being cooped up in a hot attic, with a hundred or so ironic hipsters, and no air conditioning, in DC, in July.

He seemed like a genuinely cool, clever guy who was extremely appreciative of how lucky he was to make a living writing about Guns 'n Roses.

And yesterday wasn't even as good as Monday - in part because of the aforementioned lack of air conditioning and in part of retarded questions like "What's the best show you've ever seen, and if it's not Pearl Jam, why not?"

Couldn't keep Daby quiet, huh?

Hardy-har-har.

I actually asked him to list the ways in which Spider-Man was superior to Superman. He said he didn't have time, but would devote a chapter in his next book to it.

Oh good, more boring, inconsequential falsities from my favorite hipster poseur.

If your CK story (if you ever get around to sharing it) doesn't at the very least include him running over your dog or something, I'll never understand your hostility.

I'm not really hostile. I just don't think his writing or ideas deserve the accolades he gets. He's not THAT original or THAT funny.

And the creepy story has nothing to do with how I feel about his writing at all. It's just an interesting aside that I will write as soon as i have time.

Wait?? Spin and ESPN? We're talking about a guy who writes for Spin and ESPN? WTF? There's nothing hip nor cool about either of those outlets. I'm going back to bed.

a) He wrote for spin for many years, including a stretch where it was easily the best music magazine in this country. His involvement there has tapered off as Spin has gotten lousier, to the point of its current, unreadable state.

b) ESPN is neither hip, nor cool, which makes his writing for them stand out as an island of cool hipsterdom in a sea of unironic testosterone.

c) He's written for everybody. The NY Times the Post, a zillion other papers, which is what you do when you are a freelance WRITER. Unfortunately the hip, cool rags (Anime Monthly? Jangle 'n Strum?) don't pay the water bill.

Also, he was working for the Toledo Blade when his best (and first) book came out, Fargo Rock City. So yeah, I can't slight him for writing for SPIN or ESPN. It's the nature of the writing beast, you have to sell your soul to someone. Sugar Daddies are awfully hard to find.

That was the Akron Beacon Journal. Nobody remotely cool has ever worked for the Toledo Blade.

And now that I'm about two-thirds of the way through "Fargo Rock City," the premise is wearing a bit thin. And I like hair bands. Best book, my ass.

I knew it was some lame Ohio newspaper.

I don't see how writing about the shit that interests you for money is "selling your soul." The whole point is to get people to read it, right? But anyway, point being, when you write for a living, you sell your stuff to whoever is willing to pay for it, usually before checking their hipster "cred."

Akron is WAY lamer than Toledo. But admittedly neither are the shimmering cosmopolitan Gotham that is the Twin Cities.

And I dunno, Daby - "Shoegazers' Digest" regularly features new, young, hip writers. It's tough to imagine CK couldn't draw a paycheck from them if he'd tried before selling out to major national publications with millions of readers.

I don't really read music magazines, save for the handful of Pitchfork reviews of my own band (they never slammed us, but didn't love us). However, my experience with Spin's lameness goes back to my college radio days. Their writers' loserosity was boundless with all their skulking about New Orleans, chasing Ann Rice and Courtney Love. Then their tools would show up at various college radio events and just ooze hanger-on-edness. They'd have these bimbo blond cheerleader types host these parties, and then stalk the staff of the hipper stations trying to gleen the next thing. They'd be all "New York scene is so cool this" and "what do you think of this band? that" My impression of Spin was basically that they'd call up college radio DJs and ask them what was cool, and then they'd send their losers off to write about it. I'm sure not everyone, but their writer's individual interest in music seemed quite shallow. I can't adequately describe how lame they were, but there ya go. But I have reasons and personal experiences backing my dislike for Spin. As far as US music magazines go, my money is still on CMJ.

So, yeah Dave. I cannot join you AT ALL in calling Spin the best music magazine in the US. The mere idea makes me laugh out loud.

lobsterman

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