"Oktobar 1864" (1987)

One of the most refreshing and fascinating pop bands that came from 1980s Belgrade music scene, Oktobar 1864 were decidedly cult artists who flourished with passionate, urban following - they were never commercial enough to be embraced on national level by mainstream audience - and its exactly this high level of musicianship that perhaps worked against them initially but makes this debut album sound so interesting 30 years after its release. Compared with other than-current stars who were far more commercially viable, these guys were actually modest with handful of albums and few minor hits but than again, almost all big stars flirted with folk and gimmicks, while Oktobar 1864 never strayed from their path.

Listening it today - with greatest pleasure, as it brings memories - I am surprised how good it all sounds, almost better than what I remember. Synthesizers and production place it straight in 1980s and music is kind of reminiscent of 1980s pop swing of Matt Bianco only much moodier, whatever misgivings I had back than about extremely vague and impressionistic lyrics, they are perfectly fine now as their generic quality guarantee certain timelessness and because there were no short-living, attention-grabbing gimmicks, they appear fresh as yesterday. Besides obvious stab at big hit (cover of Four Tops) the rest of material is surprisingly strong although nothing here spells chart appeal - its all about swagger and attitude, moody late night club music for hipsters and occasional jazzy flourish (guys are excellent players) that aged surprisingly well as it was never overplayed. Back than, as today, my main object of fascination was girl singer Tanja Jovićević who must have been the best new female voice around (very soon she will be voted best singer of the year) and what she brings to music - her tone suggest seduction, strength and power all at once - cannot be underestimated or even imagined with anybody else, she was that good. Some 30 years on, I actually remember all the lyrics and can sing along. 

"Šta Mi Radiš" by Zdravko Čolić (1983)

We actually never had such a pop megastar as Zdravko Čolić before and when he exploded in 1970s his appeal became social phenomenon, discussed in newspapers and dissected by journalists and politicians who wondered is this good influence on our youth (the conclusion is, he was clean cut and harmless, as opposite to rock band Bijelo Dugme that had bad reputation for dabbling in drugs) - there were other singers in previous generations who had certain following but Čolić appealed to everybody and when this good natured, charismatic singer embarked on national tour (backed by carefully choreographed dancers) it was an earthquake unprecedented in former Yugoslavia, his posters adorning walls across the borders, from Alps in the north down to Greece in the south. Music, mostly masterminded by his old pal Kornelije Kovač, was deliciously intoxicating, breezy pop but that was just part of the magic, the most important thing was that Čolić as singer was untouchable - even though Kovač previously worked with some of the best voices in the business, this guy loved to sing and when he lustily soared with that golden voice, the whole country listened.

By 1983 it seemed that his career came to a slight lull, not that Čolić or his team lost touch but more likely such forceful momentum was not realistic to keep going continuously, besides there was also (in my opinion) a matter of overexposure and the fact that new names continued to get more attention. Carefully planned as showcase that 30-something is still force in business, this album was recorded in London with local musicians and produced impeccably for the standards of time, utilising several composers and material that quickly brought Čolić back on charts. It is actually much better than what I remember and listening it again, from current perspective I find it disarmingly entertaining and light, although there is - as always, since he depended on composers and producers - always a question of filler, which in this case means that comparing it with mega-successful 1977 album "Ako Priđeš Bliže" that was delight from start to finish, this time listener is aware that not everything is immediately catchy or hit. Not that he didn't bring any - title song and ballad "Stanica Podlugovi"  became huge radio hits and deservedly so, but this is still far from his previous peaks, where everything he recorded became smash. In all honesty, less played songs on this album sound perfectly fine because they are not overplayed and are rewarding listening. Unperturbed, Čolić continued on, though from now on he will enjoy certain status that perhaps didn't depend so much on new releases. Lyrics by wonderful Arsen Dedić are easy to spot as they are always high above any competition. 

"Outlander" again (third time)

Three years ago - according to my blog here - I have re-read Diana Gabaldon's "Outlander" and kind of apologetically explained myself why decision to revisit something so obviously entertaining with all those big, serious, life-affirming and world-changing books around. Well, dear reader, as soon as I found myself comfortable and curled in frost covered countryside (finally free from any work obligations) guess what I took lovingly again - yes, "Outlander" again and this time I am not even apologising, it became dear & trusted friend, perhaps little forgotten as I actually didn't really remember all the details but I knew it is a perfect escapism and even with tons of other books I could have selected, none 100% guarantees the pleasure of being completely far away and lost in the book as this one.

One of the reasons why I took to "Outlander" again is that I was entertaining the idea to continue with sequels but to my biggest embarrassment I couldn't really remember where exactly the story ended and what exactly was happening - after few years the only things I remember were vaguely rough locations and skeleton of the story - after all, we usually remember only impressions, so without any remorse I made myself comfortable next to open fire, with glass of wine for support and before you know it, I read it with greatest pleasure like its first and not third time I am reading this. Looking back, perhaps its no wonder that this kind of historical fiction appeals so much to me because in a way it is a spiritually connected to some things I loved & enjoyed during my formative years (it has echoes of "Grička vještica", Angelique" and every possible damsel in distress adventure novels you can imagine) so even though I am obviously middle-aged now, some things still thrill me with the same power. I do discipline myself into occasionally reading classics but never ever read them so breathlessly and completely absorbed as now Diana Gabaldon. The fact that 20 million readers loved and bought the novel does not exactly prove that this is something in the same league with Tolstoy, but nevertheless it shows that impressively large number of readers shared my enthusiasm. Its definitely worth mentioning that Gabaldon has wonderfully entertaining writing style and often I giggled with unabashed joy, thinking "this is exactly how I would write" - it made me feel almost childishly familiar with author and as she is already a good friend, after all this is third time that I am reading the same novel.

Roughly described, "Outlander" is historical, time-travel fiction with the main heroine being British Army nurse Claire Randall who in 1946 visits Scotland with her husband, a history professor (kind of like second honeymoon, as they were separated in war) and during curious walk around local, ancient standing stones Craigh na Dun (in countryside place called Inverness which I actually visited) she gets transported in the same spot but 200 years earlier. In almost cinematic scene, she is now surrounding with barbaric looking clansmen who are puzzled with her clothes and identity but quickly let her take care of wounded warrior, since she obviously knows about healing and from here she slowly asserts her authority as 20th century, modern woman in 18th century world where life is often brutal and very primitive. In clever gender reversal Gabaldon makes young warrior faint - in typical historical romances it would have been heroine who faints - and as Claire comes to accept life in Castle Leoch, she somehow gets closer to young James Fraser while at the same time she gets accepted as a healer, although nobody is really sure in her identity and people suspect she might be spy. During the entertainment in the castle, with old ballads being played after dinner, she notes the pattern that the transported women are so often gone for about 200 years—but do sometimes return home so her intention is to somehow return to standing stones and escape back to her time. There is also a local woman Geillis Duncan who is also knowledgeable about herbs and medicine, so two become friendly with tragic results as local village people eventually turn against them. Subsequently Claire is brought to British army officer Jonathan Randall (sadistic and brutal ancestor of her present life husband) who interrogates her as a spy, just to have young Fraser saving her life ... and it just gets better and better from here. 

I truly enjoyed "Outlander" third time around and in fact, I often giggled and wept (thanks to wine) while reading, purring like a cat from sheer pleasure. I don't even have to mention that right now I am already on a sequel, which I also read but completely forgotten. 

and here are some photos I took during my visit to Orkney Islands, Scotland where I saw standing stones 

"Stranac u noći" by Massimo Savić (1987)

Sandwiched somewhere between his art-pop beginnings with the band Dorian Gray and later middle-age renaissance, singer Massimo Savić experienced curious chapter in his career, where for short time in late 1980s he almost became genuine pop star, courtesy of composer Zrinko Tutić who at that time was untouchable as Pygmalion behind many other artists - Tutić, who was previously fine singer himself, somehow saw potential in powerful-voiced young Savić and decided that with some tweaking and re-designing he might even became commercial. It is very curious match, since they apparently come from different worlds but older composer perfectly understood that singer had unique talent that might just need some nurturing and assembled forces to present him in professional setting, presenting him as a first-rate soul singer that Savić always was.

While this collaboration eventually resulted in  only handful studio albums, this one is perhaps strongest of them - in spite of heavy synthesizers that place the album squarely in 1980s, it had lots of fresh ideas and not only that Savić thrives in this surroundings but it gave him several really big hits ("Stranac u noći", "Samo jedan dan" and a widely played re-make "Zamisli život u ritmu muzike za ples" with Jura Stublić) that suddenly made him commercially visible without compromising his status. Vocally, I have always considered Savić as some sort of Croatian variation on theatrical baritone of David Bowie and Scott Walker (this obvious similarity bothered me a bit when he first arrived with Croatian cover of "The sun ain't gonna shine anymore" and while everyone flipped about the song, I kind of found it gimmicky) - cover of Walker's "Stay with me" (in itself a cover of US original) points at the past while the rest of the album showcases his strong and tender voice in the most interesting light. Seriously, the more I listen to Savić, the more I am inclined to find him one of the most unusual and original voices around, in fact he might be in the same league with legendary Josipa Lisac as they both share uncompromising and highly recognizable style that is always ready to experiment. Even though this could have been just another Zrinko Tutić-produced album (ubiquitous Marina Tucaković shows up as a lyrics writer) it actually placed Savić prominently on hit charts and hinted at possible longevity in the business - if Dorian Gray was just a short lived youthful experiment, this showed that with the right guidance he might stick around bit longer. 

"Živim Po Svom" by Doris Dragović (1997)

It seems like another lifetime now, but when Doris Dragović first came to public attention, she was a member of fine pop band "More" and that particular line up left breezy, light funk 1983. album that sounded as a perfect summer music. Than came whole decade of hugely successful solo years where she somehow got distracted (or should I say sidetracked) into folksy weepy schlagers that were immensely popular but it made you wonder whatever happened to pop music - collaboration with composer Zrinko Tutić was profitable and fruitful, however with time it started to sound predictable and formulaic so when change of composers took place, it really came as a breath of fresh air.

Almost everything on this album came from Vjekoslava and Tonči Huljić, established songwriting team from Split who connected the dots and skillfully brought Dragović to upbeat, current pop music while simultaneously preserving just a touch of folksy ingredients that already became her trademark. As result, singer sounds invigorated, energized and inspired as she have not been in a long, long time, in fact this is probably what her old band would play had she stayed with them. Its really uplifting to hear her sunny and young again, after spending way too long with melodramatic folk ballads that threatened to pigeonhole her in certain box - occasionally she even dares to stretch vocally, as in rock ballad "Zapjevaj" where she wordlessly vocalises together with snarling guitars, this is definitely something we never heard from her before. Petar Grašo guests as a duet partner and even contributes previously mentioned song. There is also gentle, atmospheric ballad "Nespokoj" that might be the highlight of the album (it comes in two versions here) and one song by Pero Kozomara ("Tek iz navike") that fits perfectly with the rest of the selection. One of strongest albums in her discography.

Josipa Lisac in 2016

Croatian artist who had a huge impact and influence on my formative years is still going strong, despite slowly reaching the age when most of her contemporaries have already retired. When I was growing up, Josipa Lisac was literary the only female rock singer we had and I was absolutely fascinated with her although my family viewed this with amusement, as this was not some really popular or commercial artist, in fact my spontaneous choice of music idol happened to be more of a cult singer who appealed to a certain, urban audience but nowhere near chart smashing successes of other, more mainstream names. On national level, she enjoyed huge respect but was not universally embraced in a way some of her show business colleagues were and I clearly remember countless insufferable entertainers clowning on Sunday afternoon TV shows, while Lisac (being acquired taste) was invited only sporadically. It was a true mystery of my teenage years that the rest of the world did not recognise this fabulousness, since everything about her music, image and looks spelled true star to me and nobody had to explain this to me, I simply knew this was someone special. 

It was much later that I eventually started to understand that this uniqueness (which so much appealed to me) might have been a problem for majority of mainstream audience who simply couldn't place Lisac in any box - from the very beginning she was assertive, urban chick who could sing circles around other colleagues, was equally skilled in maddeningly wide choice of music genres, had unrepentantly  mannered style and on top of it all thrived on extravagant, theatrical costumes so audiences in distant, provincial or rural places simply had no connection to it. Everything that so much fascinated me simply did not appeal to people who were conditioned to accept entertainers while Lisac never clowned, she was the white crow in a bunch and enjoyed it. When I was teenager I seriously thought I just have been the only person who loves her and hence my surprise when I eventually found myself in a very crowded concert sometime in 1983-4 where audience clearly knew every single song. Being only female rock singer also meant that she never had any competition around, though I feel that she would have liked it (Serbian artist Slađana Milošević came good decade later and she was nowhere near vocally interesting) but to my biggest surprise, during subsequent years and decades Lisac eventually came to be accepted as national treasure and people slowly realised that eccentric, unusual and odd as she might have been, she is constantly around and the whole generations of singers came and disappeared but Lisac is still here.

Although she performs and tours regularly during rest of the year, Lisac always organises a special concert annually in December, which is tribute to late Karlo Metikoš who was love of her life, her partner, composer and biggest supporter. In fact, the determination to keep his memory alive is probably the main motivation for Lisac to continue singing as she insist to sing songbook he wrote specially for her - Metikoš was extraordinary talented composer who wrote only for her and encouraged her to be as creative, wild or brave as she wanted (in fact, for all her alleged eccentricity, he might have been even more so). Seeing the pictures taken during the concert earlier this December I am truly happy that her career goes strong and that audiences admire someone who started back in 1967. At this point she had outlived careers of everybody around. 

Sevdah - second part

Roughly three years ago (already!) I wrote essay here about traditional folk music from Bosnia called Sevdah - its a kind of hard-core traditional music dating centuries back and usually associated with Bosnian folk singers who created art form from it. In its purest form it was also immensely popular in post-WW2 years everywhere in Balkans, when local singers cherished this kind of music, however during 1960s and 1970s new composers came with their own material hence the whole new generation of musicians started recording new Sevdah-inspired hits, until eventually it metamorphosed into completely new music sub genre. You could always tell pure Sevdah because it sounded more serious and melancholic, while new songs (simply called folk music but that was very generic description) were more upbeat, or this is just the way I hear it. I never cared for Sevdah while growing up, because as a kid I was more interested in foreign pop music (and it was something always associated with rural tradition) but unconsciously I must have picked on some vibes and atmosphere of our kitchen radio, because nowadays I truly enjoy this kind of music, out of sheer comfort that it gives me - like Proust's Madeleine cake, it suddenly makes me feel cocooned, protected and comfortable in my own kitchen. Its my kitchen music and I have no problem whatsoever switching from opera to Sevdah when inspiration takes me.

"Beba Selimović" (1971)

First proper LP album by Bosnian first lady of traditional folk music is actually compilation of her best known work up to that point and collects tracks recorded mostly in previous decade. Majority of these songs were originally recorded either on EP or singles, so its interesting to note how the music changed during 1960s - earliest "Tugo Moja" (from 1964) was still mournful but later songs, while always preserving some lilting quality, slowly became more upbeat, even though lyrics were mostly always serious. Selimović might have started with traditional Sevdah but was very well served with the whole list of new composers who tailored hits for her, particularly notable was Jozo Penava whose music always stands out amongst competition. Very much adored and idolised in Bosnia, Selimović was a role model of how female folk singers should sound, look and behave - in traditional society, where position of professional musician who constantly travel might have been looked upon as something frivolous, she managed to project stately dignity, sophistication and elegance, her talent being undoubtedly recognised and loved. Not every girl singer managed this feat and quite large number of them relied on provocative dresses, hairstyles and such, however Selimović (although very attractive woman) was always first and foremost singer with naturally beautiful and expressive voice that was her God's given talent and she took it seriously, hence her career went on forever.

"Nada Mamula" (1971)

This is one of cornerstones of Bosnian traditional folk music and its place cannot ever be underestimated - because of its artistic merit and influence, it grew to represent iconic status and was amongst many homes treasured possessions. Amongst all the titans of Sevdah, there is undoubtedly one woman who will be forever remembered as the most important female singer of all times and her name was Nada Mamula. Strangely enough, Mamula was not Bosnian at all - she was born, raised and educated in Belgrade where she started singing on the local radio, before marriage took her to Sarajevo. Embracing rich Bosnian culture, tradition and music, she was also embraced by Sarajevo where audiences just couldn't get enough of her soulful singing - there were other singers who knew and cherished tradition, but Mamula was exceptional.

There is a song on this album, "Ah, meraka u večeri rane" that was actually very song Mamula sang for radio Sarajevo - it represents her spiritual rebirth, as from this moment on she started towards the path leading to her true destiny as voice of Sevdah. If until that point she was just one of the many talented folk singers back home, here in new surroundings she blossomed into trailblazer who awed listeners and represented the best of the genre. What made Mamula so significant was her total command of emotional impact on listeners - not only that she was born with naturally beautiful, majestic alto voice but she sang from the heart, with conviction and feelings unmatched anywhere around. When Mamula sings, you listen with attention because she seriously meant every word she sang. 

Around 1971 Jugoton started to seriously focus on LP albums by single artists and released several albums which were actually compilations of greatest hits up to that point, previously known and loved from single and EP recordings, so this album is not only representation of some of the absolutely classic music in Sevdah (and Sevdah influenced newly composed songs) but also testament to Mamula's work that will never be forgotten. She was hugely important and beloved in her time, in my opinion this is kind of singer born once in generation.

"Safet" by Safet Isović (1972)

Slightly younger than Nada Mamula, Safet Isović basically belongs to the same generation of post-WW2 singers who made a huge career out of continuing tradition of Bosnian traditional folk music and promotion of new composers who wrote songs in that style. Isović had not only natural talent (spectacularly beautiful, instantly recognisable and strong tenor voice of great flexibility) but also a great love and understanding of this kind of music, in fact he is a perfect example of artist born and raised in this culture, who intuitively knew all the nuances Sevdah demands of any singer. 

Like many other classic Sevdah singers, Isović actually goes way back to 1950s and he had already been superstar when this LP compilation was released, bringing some of his most famous recordings from previous decade. "Sinoć dođe tuđe momče" and "Sa jablana crven listić pao" for example, are from 1963 and 1964 respectively, while "Jablani se povijaju" was one of the hits from folk music festival Ilidža in 1964. "Vrbas voda nosila jablana" is even older, dating from 1962 - later recordings show elegant move from strictly traditional Sevdah to repertoire written by composers like Jozo Penava and Safet Kafedžić who basically kept the exactly same spirit like ancient music but these were new songs. In a way, this album represents changes in folk music and how it metamorphosed with time. New generations of singers will eventually follow this path even more prominently (to the point that folk music will eventually split into two branches, traditional and newly composed) but Isović will never be challenged as his place on the throne was deserved, assured and constantly re-affirmed in subsequent decades. 

"Ima jedna cura" by Nedžad Salković (1967)

Nedžad Salković was a perfect example of younger generation of 1960s Bosnian folk singers who eventually found success with completely fresh written songs by new composers working in the same spiritual style as ancient Sevdah music genre. They all knew, loved and understood Sevdah but needed fresh material and this is where Sevdah slowly metamorphosed into relatively more modern sub genre - at least, this is how I understand it - popular folk festivals like Ilidža promoted these new faces and this kind of music was immensely popular in Bosnia, where it surprisingly flourished in perfect harmony with other music genres - Sarajevo brimming with music talents, had at the same time rockers like "Indexi" and singers like Salković, they happily worked rubbing shoulders next to each other and there was never any problem with that. You could in fact see both of them usually in the very same TV show.

Although known and loved locally, Salković will actually have to wait almost two decades until in 1980s he found himself with mega spectacular hit "Ne klepeći nanulama" that became his signature song and finally brought him national recognition on previously unprecedented level. That song was actually embraced by such huge audiences all over the country that it became phenomenon, as it obviously touched a nerve with people who never before cared for this kind of music, including rock critics and radio DJs who played it to death next to current foreign hits. 

"Naj - Najlepši" by Silvana Armenulić (1967)

This cute, little EP recording by late Armenulić might have been just perfect sign of the times back in 1967 but to my ears it sounded so absolutely Greek that I didn't know what to make of it. Not that anything is wrong with it, its just that I didn't expect that Greek influence spread so much into our traditional folk music to such large degree - I knew and understood that during 1960s Bosnian Sevdah experienced changes and new composers brought fresh ideas, but this is completely Greek. And no wonder, as music recorded here is actually all Greek covers with translated lyrics by Aleksandar Korać. This kind of music was apparently very much loved and accepted by audiences and since I heard some of Greek artists from the same time, it came as a surprise to find it transplanted into completely different country. 

Armenulić was of course, famous beauty who started in traditional folk music but found her success with newly written music in very much same style and she will eventually find even bigger fame with later songs about despair, heartbreak and drama, where her personal sorrows were perfectly channelled into music but from everything I have heard, this cute little EP - recorded on a brink of fame - is by far most interesting, along with her recordings of traditional folk music. 

"The Fatal Hour" by William Nigh (1940)

Delicious old black & white crime mystery - one of the many similar produced in relatively short period of time, when Monogram Pictures enjoyed success with these kind of inexpensive, low budgeted little crime stories. Decidedly non-Asian looking, towering and gaunt Boris Karloff is again Chinese detective helping his good pals to solve the murder case, as previously we have very much the same team of policeman Grant Withers and pretty blonde journalist Marjorie Reynolds who is very much comic relief and gets pushed around and ordered to "scram". Because character of Mr.Wong is basically so serious and dignified, this time we actually get more kick from following Reynolds as she unwittingly puts herself in dangerous situations, insist to phone her newspaper and faints in the most inappropriate situations - her character is actually so entertaining that its a wonder nobody thought about making her focus of her own series. It is a sign of the times that Reynolds being a woman could not seriously compete with guys and she was constantly portrayed as good natured but brainless blonde bimbo - another woman in the movie is Lita Chevret whose main function is to be attractive, mysterious dame involved with crime underworld and therefore tarnished by association. As much as Karloff is delight in main role, this is the first Mr.Wong mystery where all sorts of small roles have entertaining little scenes - the whole pleasure of these old, low budgeted movies is exactly in the ways how director William Nigh created something with such limited resources. 

"Mr. Wong in Chinatown" by William Nigh (1939)

It seems that in the late 1930s Monogram Pictures were on a roll with these Mr.Wong movies - low budgeted but intriguing enough, with added star presence of wonderful Boris Karloff, there were so popular that audience got no less than five parts in only six years. Just in case you perhaps doubt the decision that Chinese detective was played by obviously British actor who towers above everybody around, when Karloff backed out of them, the series stopped.

This third part is far cry from simple beginnings when everything seems to have been filmed on a parking lot and character of Mr.Wong was submissive and servile towards policemen - now we have quite a lot exterior scenes and Mr.Wong not only walks around with a walking stick like some aristocrat but is extremely politely referred to by everybody.

In fact, he is equally at home in luxurious homes of wealthy bankers and in dangerous China town, where locals treat him with respect. When at the beginning of the movie, some unknown female visitor gets killed in his house, Mr.Wong gets involved in a crime case that might have perhaps a little too much characters spread around and its quite complicated to distinguish them all from one another, specially as most of these men wear exactly same clothes, fedora hats and talk to each other in barking voices (at least I had problems with telling who is who). Basically the only one I could recognise immediately was Mr.Wong because he looks so different from everybody else. The story meanders a bit left and right, with humorous couple of stressed policeman Grant Withers and pushy journalist Marjorie Reynolds as comic relief but our attention is always focused on Karloff since he is the only one with calm presence and brain. The ending is surprising, since every Mr.Wong mystery always zooms on least expected suspect and even though these movies are at this point ancient, I can never guess the murderer. Enjoyable for 1930s standards, though hardly very memorable.

Gone but not forgotten - Leonard Cohen

Royals surrounded with Croatian matryoshka singers and dancers

Just found out that Prince Charles and his wife decided to use most unusual picture for their Christmas card - picture was taken in March this year, as they travelled trough this part of the world and I remember there was a big fuss in Croatian media about who was invited to dinners, presentations and such (in fact, the whole excitement was apparently more about people who showed up and what they wore than about famous guests). The whole affair was very amusing, clearly showing how people behave in a such small, provincial country where appearances mean so much to locals always ready to show off their superiority - I honestly think that Prince Charles and Camilla couldn't probably care less who was invited and who was not, because these names mean nothing to them + they continued their tour later in different places anyway, but Croatian newspapers were full of descriptions of who was wearing what and even pointing that certain people regularly visit church on Sunday like its something that needs to be put on display. Gogol would write very inspired satire if he was alive and around during this royal visit. I clearly remember one article cattily remarking that some politician's wife was wearing dress that showed very good taste and eclipsed Camilla like our royal guests came for some sort of fashion competition (I didn't think that dress deserved any special mention and was in fact very dowdy in my opinion, but Croatian journalists obviously found it just perfect).

Prince Charles and his wife eventually found out that picture taken during their visit to Croatia turned out to be truly delightful little thing - they were captured surrounded with some singers and dancers dressed in colorful traditional costumes and these young people were obviously truly excited to have such prominent guests in their surroundings. Almost like Gods have somehow fell right in the middle of their laps. Actually, the thrill on their happy faces is touching and genuine, far nicer than anything that pompous local dignitaries and their stuffy wives showed during royal visit. I honestly love this picture because its full of character, though it bothered me a little bit that everything looks so unusual that this might as well be Northern Mongolia - specially when you consider and understand that Croatians are very sensitive about being taken seriously as a part of Central Europe, with dignity and history that connect us with Austro-Hungarian empire - alas, dear reader we have these traditional folk costumes that looks like something straight out of Russian folk tales, so there you are. Prince Charles and his wife loved the photo so much that they decided this will be their Christmas card this year. And now the whole world will think this is how we dress, oh well. It is a truly delightful picture, I admit. The more I look at it, the more I like it.

"The Mystery of Mr. Wong" by William Nigh (1939)

Even though the very first Mr.Wong movie was just a inexpensive little fluff, filmed at the parking lot and what it appears inside two closets, it was popular enough to get a sequel. And what a sequel it was! Far better produced, with several actual outside scenes and typically exquisite, elegant Hollywood house full of nicely dressed dinner guests amassed in order to provide Agatha Christie kind of whodunnit, this was markedly upscale product that gave Boris Karloff proper setting to be unusually gentlemanly Mr.Wong and this time nobody screams or shouts at him, in fact he is treated kindly and respectfully. Even the rest of Asian characters are all ether servants or evil (or both) Mr.Wong belongs right there with the elegantly dressed smart set, almost like some kind of Asian Sherlock Holmes - others serve him drinks, greet him warmly and remind him on parties  where they met previously. He is exotic looking outsider and naturally, Karloff actually don't look Asian at all, since he is unusually tall man. 

At the beginning of the movie we encounter wealthy Mr. Edwards who is some sort of Bluebeard with history of cruelty towards his wives and current wife is similarly taunted by his jealousy though it makes you wonder why is house full of young men who could be her potential lovers - almost like he is dangling them in front of her just to see her reaction. Mrs. Edwards is actually more than ready to fall into temptation anyway, being oh-so-sensitive and unhappy, so what else is wealthy wife to do. There are also several Asian servants who we suspect have mysterious agenda, as they all behave very unusually and the cursed gemstone smuggled from China, fantastically named "Eye of the Daughter of the Moon" hidden in a safe (and apparently bringing bad luck to his owners) but surprisingly, this part of the story is not really so important because right in the middle of elegant dinner party someone gets killed in front of guests and this is where Mr.Wong steps in to untangle everything. First he needs to eliminate and separate suspects, find potential motives and so on - I must admit there were so many red herrings that I couldn't possibly guess the identity of murderer until the very end where Mr.Wong collect everybody in his room and than cleverly plays with their nerves until grand finale eventually points the least suspecting person. Even Agatha Christie herself might have enjoyed this movie, because it fits right up her alley. As usual, all eyes and ears are on Boris Karloff who carries the whole movie on his shoulders and without him this could have been just another contrived little parlour crime story but he is such charismatic presence that everything turns quite enjoyable. This whole Mr.Wong series are such a discovery for me, I truly like them. 

"Mr. Wong, Detective" by William Nigh (1938)

Back on vacation and pampering myself: one of the things that truly make me happy is to curl with some ancient black & white movie, older the better and preferably with absolute minimum of any technical wizardry: its not only that current cinematography bores me with saturation of special effects but honestly I always loved old black & white movies that used good acting, strong story (or sometimes neither of these) to play with our imagination. Just as a kid, when I preferred to use anything but store bought toys to play with, later in life I found greatest comfort and pleasure in old, simple movies that used every stereotype and cliché under the sun, sometimes even using same scenery from some previous movie.

Today is less known that wonderful Boris Karloff - who became immortal thanks to his monster roles in Universal movies, also made a pretty good career out of playing character of mysterious Chinese detective Mr.Wong in a series of several highly successful movies. Well, successful back than - today they are hardly remembered and this obscurity just make them more interesting to me. The trend actually started a decade earlier with very famous character of another Asian detective Charlie Chan who was refreshing change from previously evil Asian characters - Charlie Chan and later Japanese secret agent Mr. Moto were immensely popular fictional heroes so this is how Mr.Wong came along, not coincidentally all three were actually portrayed by Caucasian actors, not only because there were none really big Asian cinema stars in Hollywood but also because big companies wanted to play safe and to bet on already popular actors - of course, it could be argued that for this kind of role it could have been just perfect to promote real Asian and to simply nurture new, authentic star with the right background but tell this to Hollywood producers of 1930s. (By the way, when Hollywood finally relented and replaced Karloff with real Asian actor, the series ended as people were simply not interested.) As Mr.Wong, our dear old friend Boris Karloff does not really change make up drastically, he just smooths his hear and attempts some incredible meek, servile posturing but on the other hand he is far more clever than anybody around him and comes to conclusions better than police agents who are portrayed as incredibly brash, naive and comically inept. So the message is almost subversive, since here we have genius Asian detective who is usually pushed around but is the cleverest person in the movie.

This was the first in the series of movies about Mr.Wong - apparently it was made with shoe-string budget, because everything on the set looks incredibly should we say inexpensive and Boris Karloff had obviously enjoyed completely different treatment while working for Universal but even here, with less powerful Monogram Pictures company he brings lots of dignity to his work. I don't think that Karloff in any way lost it or that he was reduced to act  in small-budgeted movies - I don't think any less of him for playing Mr.Wong and in fact this brings even more admiration for him because just like Bela Lugosi, he was a strange looking foreigner in Hollywood who simply needed work and this was paid work that his family lived from. By all accounts sensitive and soft spoken Englishman who probably had much more talent in him that he was given credit for, Karloff was typecast as either a monster or outsider so the role of Asian detective was perhaps just perfect for him. By the way, Lugosi played exactly the same character also but his Mr.Wong was evil. 

The most obvious thing about  "Mr. Wong, Detective" is that is deliciously low-budgeted little bite of crime novelty - everything happens very fast, people are very plain looking, everything seems almost cartoonish and some scenes are really just a minute long. People scream, come and go, there is absolutely no deep psychological analysis or reasons why some of these characters are here as we never see them again (the office cleaning lady basically have one minute and off she goes, never to be seen again). There is a murder plot  hidden somewhere inside but so ludicrous and full of pointless red herrings that at the end we only focus on Mr.Wong who seems the only reasonable person around. There are businessmen who drop dead, screaming & shouting policemen who behave like retarded and several mysterious, dangerous characters who are supposed to be bad guys but we don't really understand why are they bad in the first place since their part of the story concerns some ship and Monogram Pictures could not really afford scenes filmed outside of what is clearly a small studio. So the final result looks very much like some primary school production and its absolutely delicious because of it. What a threat!

"Killing Jesus: a history" by Bill O'Reilly & Martin Dugard

I have never read Bill O'Reilly & Martin Dugard books before (apparently they wrote three other, highly successful, popular history books titled "Killing Lincoln", "Killing Kennedy" and "Killing Reagan") so I was just curious - as usual - what they have to say about one of my favourite subjects, namely search for a real, historical person behind the story about Jesus Christ. Perhaps this fascination started way back with Dan Brown and it slowly continued from there - "Holy Blood,Holy Grail", "The case for Christ", "Rex Deus", "The Passover plot", books by Lynn Picknett and Colin Wilson, "Zealot: The Life and Times of Jesus of Nazareth", "Murder at Golgotha", you name it, I have already poked my nose in there. Every single of these authors had a different approach, some even suggest this is just a combination of several previous traditional beliefs (highly possible), however my opinion is that story is based on real, historical figure but with time embellished beyond recognition in order to suit ruling classes (church and kings, hand in hand) therefore we have this strange paradox of religion that initially appealed to outcasts, poor and powerless, just to become a legal weapon in hands of the powers. Jesus himself would probably recoil in horror upon seeing what Spanish inquisition or conquistadors did in the name of religion. All this books tried - one way or another - to lift the veil from something that happened 2 000 years ago and so far Reza Aslan and Hugh J. Schonfield in my opinion, went the furthest in explaining what kind of person a historical Jesus might have been, however, this book really goes even further and now presents this ancient story as a popular history book - written as a fast-paced, bombastic thriller brimming with interesting historical facts but mostly speculations.

For the first time ever, I felt like I am reading the actual, true version of what was happening long, long ago in the far away corner of mighty Roman empire. It is quite an achievement because we are all familiar with the story, but this story has been so stylised trough the century (via rituals, ornate celebrations, Latin language and basically highly theatrical show) that we grew to just accept it - in fact, we were even told to accept it without questions - and now, suddenly, there is somebody who paint the familiar picture with strong colours and brings ancient Jerusalem to life. Bill O'Reilly & Martin Dugard meticulously researched historical period and carefully present the moment in time - what it meant to have been born in Judea at that time, what kind of armour & clothing Herod's soldiers wore as they marched into slaughter of the Innocents, detailed descriptions of Julius Cesar, Cleopatra, Marc Anthony, Octavian (Caesar Augustus) and Tiberius. They explain what all these religious traditions and practices meant (Passover), they describe Temple in Jerusalem and what it looked like (we actually understand the architectural plan of it, there was a chamber of the Lepers, amongst other rooms), how people lived in Nazareth, what did they eat, wore - they even describe what was probably hanging above the doors of Jesus home:

"Mary and Joseph are devout in their faith and have gone to great lengths to pass this love of God on to Jesus. A small wooden box containing a parchment scroll hangs on their doorpost. On it is written the Shema, that most elemental of Jewish prayers: “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One.” It is a prayer that the family recites upon rising in the morning and after bringing the animals into the house at bedtime each night."

Of course, this is all a speculation - we cannot for sure know was Shema really hanging above the doorstep of Joseph and Mary, or were they called by these names in the first place. But by researching into the world of ancient Judea, we understand this is how people lived back than and in all probability most of the homes actually had Shema at the entrance of the house. So far, the book is very enjoyable and engaging reading - also very breezy, you can simply wallow in zillions of historical details that paint the picture with clear, bright colours. At this point I just came to John the Baptist (who as a wandering priest precedes Jesus) and naturally its all really interesting because I always loved the subject. I suspect that John the Baptist will soon end up brushed under the carpet, because this is what catholic church always did - they couldn't really ignore his part of the story so they made him official predecessor although everything points at the fact that he was very important preacher indeed and large amount of his followers eventually joined Jesus, who might have followed his teachings. (I always look between the lines when it comes to John the Baptist, because the whole story is absolutely fascinating) 

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Finished the book. It was surprisingly fast reading because the writing style was just so skillful & fast paced that I actually couldn't put it down. Of all books about Jesus, this was probably the most accessible - perhaps this is the book I was waiting for all this years. The only slight disappointment is in the way authors clearly stayed away from any controversy and were following New Testament almost literary to a letter, without once even considering different approach (Mary Magdalene, for example is still a prostitute for them, although latest historical research suggest this was not the case). It was entertaining and exciting read but it could have been completely different if the authors were not so reverential. 

"The Royals" by Kitty Kelley

The original Rita Skeeter digs her nails into British royal family - it seemed as a good idea at the time, but unfortunately for Kitty Kelley, just as the book was published, princes Diana was killed in a car crash so the public sympathy for her definitely damped the success of this book, because people felt like royal family was abused enough. To my knowledge, this unauthorised biography was never published in UK but you could get it elsewhere and just bring back, as some of my British acquaintances did. It took me almost 20 years to actually approach this book, as I was expecting list of lurid details, gossip and such - surprisingly, it wasn't as half as bad as I imagined.

Because I lived there, in London, during mid-1990s, I clearly remember the avalanche of negative press persistently haunting every royal step. Nothing this people did was ever right and they were constantly condemned by clearly prejudiced newspapers who simply gloated with smug satisfaction every time someone had unflattering photo, was caught up picking up the nose, words were taken out of the contests and basically it was clearly a witch hunt. British tabloids were actually making up the scandals, just for the sake of high sales - they would film Diana-lookalike riding someone around the room (from a great distance, making it look realistic, I guess) with the titles screaming for her beheading, just to denounce it next day, like nothing happened. The Queen could fight political turmoils, pacify foreign diplomats, give money to charities and hold on to her dignity but tabloids would still focus on her handbags. Even as a foreigner, I could tell this was extremely biased, trash culture that apparently titillated housewives with nothing better to do but to envy other people's wealth. 

Perhaps I was already familiar with all the exposé or because I actually enjoyed Kelley's writing, either way this was not nearly as negative as British tabloid press: she simply meticulously collects all the data, anecdotes, memoirs and such, than wraps it all neatly into a book, but honestly hers is not an mean-spirited volume. Sure, there is a certain amount of hearsay but that is expected. If you approach it as a litany of royal gossip, well its your own perception - I thought it was deliciously entertaining but simultaneously I was aware that this can never be confirmed, not only because Brits still defer to medieval notion of nobility but also because people like to keep their sources of information secret and occasionally it can backfired at them. Unfortunately for late princess Diana, without royal protection she was easy target and every hairdresser, masseur, grocery seller and fitness instructor she had ever met, wrote a best-selling book about her. The worst offender was the sleazy owner of her gym who took pictures of her (trough the hole in the wall) doing exercises and sold them for big bucks to be published on front pages, really this British press must be without competition when it comes to mean-spirited, morbid curiosity.

Some impressions:

Lots of negativity in this book comes from very simplistic, basic envy. They have castles and I'm sitting here. This is good for British press but it shows what kind of readers they court and what mentality apparently prevails in UK. Reading this book made me realise that I have never in my entire life gave one moment to someone's else car, house or anything material - it simply never mattered to me and I just assumed that people take care of their own priorities, if this is what makes them happy. What irks me much, much more is this irrational submission to the idea of nobility, where Brits still bow to medieval lords because they were born into old families - the whole idea of class distinction (based not on any other merit but on hereditary inheritance of title) in our days and age sounds so absurd that I truly feel repelled with it. Many times trough this book, you could find instances where perfectly fine, decent people were dismissed because they were commoners as opposite to ones born with a blue blood. I must have some revolutionary blood in me, because personally this goes against everything I believe in. 

Kay Starr (1922-2016)

One of my all-time favourite singers had passed away recently so today we are going to talk about wonderful Kay Starr who was one of the last living stars of long gone big band era. She had outlived most of the colleagues, including both Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley, which is interesting as Starr herself had solid background in both swing and rock music. To describe her music as either swing or rock is just simplification, because she happened to be a perfectly versatile singer in those particular times - Starr could sing absolutely anything with great conviction and if she started today, she would have found some way to fit that powerful voice in modern trends. As it happened, she recorded in the years between 1939 and (roughly) 1970s, so her career followed changes in popular music as it was back than.

Kay Starr belongs to that generation of singers who did not rely on smoke bombs, dancers, choreography or special effects - it might sound completely strange to young audience today, but there was a time when singers actually came on stage and simply stood still in front of microphone (occasionally snapping fingers in rhythm) projecting emotions trough voice as the only true instrument on disposal. Guys were crooners (ballad singers) and girls were songbirds, usually added as extra attraction to already famous big bands who played dances - neither were terribly important, as the main stars were instrumentalists or band leaders, until at certain point people like Sinatra eclipsed the fame of bands and (gasp!) went solo, which started slow decline of big bands - they will go forever, but starting with Sinatra in 1940s, singers would move to radio and become phenomenon in their own right. Without exception, the 1930s and 1940s singers started in big bands, as extra cameo on some popular songs and ask anybody from Frank Sinatra, Mel Tormé, Tony Bennett, Anita O'Day, Doris Day or even Ella Fitzgerald, they all had to go trough same apprenticeship with gruelling touring, living on the buses and trying to appear elegant on stage. This illusion of glamour was constantly attracting new talents who inevitably started with swing and jazz (predominant genres of popular music back than) but eventually they might have explored other possibilities or even (as in case of Doris Day) successfully branch out into movies. 

Highly unusual, since she was so versatile, Kay Starr was everything at once: she was basically Oklahoma gal (in her own description,"hillbilly singer", which is an old fashioned term for a country singer) who grew up with jazz and swing, so she was equally convincing in either of these genres. Along the way, she also loved, recorded and performed gospel and her 1959. album "I Hear a word" might be my top choice, but her greatest success and fame came in neither of these genres - her everlasting legend is based on a string of 1950s pop hits that combined little bit of everything. And I mean everything. Because Starr attacked every song with the same gusto, passion and energy, producers would throw anything at her - waltzes, polkas, early rock, country, duets, ballads, swing, you name it, she recorded it. I doubt that she honestly liked it, but she always gave 100% commitment and that powerful, lusty alto voice just boomed trough the radio waves - not unlike Frankie Laine or young Tony Bennett, Starr had that wonderful, heroic bravado that sounded highly convincing, energetic and winsome, no matter what kind of song she sang. 

If pressed to describe Kay Starr as a singer I would say that stylistically, she stands somewhere between bluesy Dinah Washington and country torch of Patsy Cline. The best of both of them was somehow distilled in her singing style, therefore you'll find Starr's recording full of swagger and delightful melodrama. She was highly regarded amongst critics and her fellow colleagues, being named favourite singer by both Billie Holiday and Édith Piaf. In its heyday, it was a truly powerhouse voice, strong, booming and commanding, no matter what music genre she worked in. Jazz critic Will Friedwald praises Starr in his 1996. book "Jazz singing" and points how successful excursions in pop music might have alienated portion of jazz purists who otherwise idolised singers like Nat King Cole and Kay Starr, since they both started with jazz and moved onto wider audiences - Cole eventually became the world's foremost ballad singer and gradually stopped playing piano, while Starr arguably replaced her big band roots with pop hits. 

Personally, I had no problems with Kay Starr's versatility and its precisely this wide range of genres that makes her discography such joyous adventure - I had heard her unusually strong, passionate voice for the first time back in 1995 on some 1950s female singers compilation called "Songbirds" where she was lumped together with names from the same generation, like Dinah Shore - now, Shore might have been a big deal decades ago but her vocal styling sounds hopelessly out of date today, same could be said for majority of singers from that time. Than Kay Starr comes along and there is suddenly a huge difference, because she had such a volcanic presence, remarkably strong and powerful voice than all the other ladies immediately appear just timid and somehow smaller when compared with her. Her 1950s hits are numerous and well-known but myself I prefer anything that came before and after the golden hits era, because they just might be more interesting in describing where Starr's true heart was: the earliest recordings from 1930s and 1940s are joy because they capture young, chirping singer singing her little heart out on standards like "If I Could Be With You (One Hour Tonight)",

"What A Diff'rence A Day Made", "Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall"  and "Stormy Weather" while backed with musicians like Joe Venuti, Glenn Miller, Wingy Manone and Charlie Barnet. There is also a wonderful 1940s compilation that collects obscure radio recordings like "Tell Me How Long The Train's Been Gone", "Down Among The Sheltering Palms", "Mama Goes Where Papa Goes" and even "The Hucklebuck" that precede rock craze that would eventually rule charts in the next decade. When you listen to Starr's studio albums from 1950s onwards, its interesting to note they were always peppered with jazz standards, so even though she went multi-platinum with hit singles, there was always a place for something like "Rockin Chair", "Georgia On My Mind" or truly out-of-this world swaggering take on Duke Ellington's famous "Night Train" so I don't understand where the criticism about "going commercial" comes from.

Like most of the singers of her generation, Kay Starr eventually lost a hold on charts once rock music came along and majority of showbiz veterans gradually found second careers performing in casinos, hotels and such (her biggest hit, "The Wheel of Fortune" kind of made her the Goddess of Las Vegas anyway). Lucrative as these offers might have beens, they did keep senior celebrities a bit away from the public eye, so her 1960s and 1970s recordings were very rare but still worth exploring - going back full circle to her roots, Starr recorded three country albums with songs like Willie Nelson's "I Really Don't Want To Know", Eddy Arnold's "Make The World Go Away" and even "Tie a Yellow Ribbon 'round the Old Oak Tree" , while on her 1975. jazz album (fittingly  titled "Back To The Roots") she sings same old standards that she started with, like "What Can I Say After I Say I'm Sorry". One of her very last albums was 1986. live concert recording where she adds contemporary songs to her repertoire and joyously sings Neil Sedaka's "The Hungry Years" and Kris Kristoffersson's " Help Me Make It Through The Night"  - in her sixties when this concert was recorded, she still had that famous energetic stage presence, although the voice had at that point started to show some serious wear and tear. We heard last from Kay Starr, as she was one of the many celebrity guests duetting with Tony Bennett 2001. album "Playin' with My Friends: Bennett Sings the Blues" - it was affectionate gesture, to invite 79 years old veteran for a song, but we should always remember her as she was in her glory days -  young, vital and powerful performer. 

"Baby, Let's Play House: Elvis Presley and the Women Who Loved Him" by Alanna Nash

Perhaps the title and the marketing of this book does injustice to author Alanna Nash, because it might suggest cheap sensationalism, where in fact the book is dark, chilling and often very disturbing cautionary tale about effects of fame, money and success. Nash wrote the book with the help of the whole army of passionate aficionados, historians, and fellow authors but her chief inspiration was clinical psychologist Peter O. Whitmer, Ph.D. who provided her with knowledge about psychological motivations and how the medical science explains it. 

A good decade earlier, Peter Guralnick wrote his masterful two-volume Presley biography ("Last Train to Memphis" and "Careless Love") still considered to be definite and for many critics, last word about the subject. For me, Nash is the other side of the coin, a perfect mirror image of Guralnick's work - where Guralnick focuses exclusively on Presley professional life and occasionally overwhelms the readers with detailed lists of recording dates, concert tours and tiniest details, Nash goes the other way around and meticulously researches every single aspect of Presley's private life, including long-forgotten letters, private photo collections and interviews with people who were there at the very beginning of phenomenon. If you think this book is cluttered with details, you should check out Guralnick - his books are results of borderline obsessive research, with description of every parking lot Presley ever visited.

Surprisingly, Nash is not mean spirited but cautiously clear eyed - her mission is not to tarnish the memory of the King - to set the record straight, she turns to clinical psychologist for explanation how the mind works and examines not only Presley's obsession with his dead twin brother, but his connection with the women as well. As she puts it so eloquently, at the beginning and at the end, Presley had women around him: "Gladys and Ginger, bookending his life. One watched too closely, the other not at all." Between overprotective mother, who baby-talked to her adult son (and refused to admit to herself that he represents sex symbol to the whole world) and the last girlfriend, who couldn't even bother to check on him while he died in the toilet, there was the whole lifetime of various women who, one way or the other, not only influenced his life but played different roles to his different personalities. Some were "ladies" that he treated formally and loved to show off in the public. Some were "chicks" who threw themselves at him and were quickly forgotten (or handed down to his entourage). Than there was his obsession with teenage virgins who appealed to him because they were so innocent and gullible - adult, strong women apparently scared him - the whole world took it as completely normal that 14 years old Priscilla was send to Graceland with her parents blessing (!) to be groomed as his potential future bride. Perhaps only Ann-Margret perfectly matched him as she was star in her own right, passionate, sexy and wild enough to be his female mirror image, but Presley could not make up his mind between needing a spiritual soul mate and wanting the old-fashioned Southern lady to stay at home and raise the family while he runs around. At the end, he had neither - Priscilla grew up and left him, while the never-ending list of temporary girlfriends meant nothing to man who slept with the lights on, feeling empty and lonely. 

The list of women infatuated with his looks, fame and charisma is long - there are 34 chapters detailing every single girlfriend so it does get a bit tiresome occasionally and they all tend to blend into one nameless mass - though Nash does not mentioned it explicitly, same could be said for any member of Presley's entourage who followed him around because he paid them and showered them with gifts. Constantly surrounded with parasites, ruled by manager who exploited him, avoiding to step on people who threw themselves at his path, Presley eventually became delusional recluse who needed not a girlfriend but a nurse to make sure he does not choke on all the pills doctors were willingly supplying him with. Towards the end, the book really takes a dark turn and his whole life seems to become a train wreck where the end was not just near but inevitable - everybody was aware that he was on self destructive path and each single girlfriend would eventually leave, scared and disgusted with needy, clingy, self-absorbed ruin he became. Parasites continued to use him even posthumously -  one of Presley's cousins accepted $18,000 to secretly photograph the corpse and the picture was published in National Enquirer's biggest-selling issue ever. Ginger, the last girlfriend, sold the rights for her exclusive interview for $ 105 000. Manager continued to exploit Elvis-souvenirs and music rights for years, until court ruled that the rights belong to Presley's family and estate.

Personally, I find the whole concept of the book absolutely fascinating - Nash and her psychologist friend discuss in detail the medical knowledge behind human motivations and how parents/childhood shapes our lives and destinies. Same could be probably said not just for subject of this book but about each and everyone of us, to a certain degree we are all product not only of genes but also of what our parents instilled in us. Presley happened to have been fascinating subject but there is no doubt that under magnifying glass we could all be subject of psychological analysis and very fat book indeed.