Writing about music, part 277: My favorite arrow

So why keep going on about my favorite band, about their music and how it affects my world, if, as I say, I'm really "over them" now?

Because there's something there, I'm convinced.

I just read a couple of early Ian Rankin thrillers that recently arrived at our public library. They get straight to the heart of this sort of disillusioned, late-40s career cop. His world is a kind of emotional desert: he's pared his life down to his work as a cop, not leaving much room for more. The action and perspective stays tightly focused on him and his thoughts. But in Rankin's more recent books, his detective, John Rebus, finds great solace in music. In fact, I've felt Rankin's become something of a publicity engine for the contemporary Scottish alternative music industry; he calls out other groups too occasionally -- I'm just waiting for his first Gomez mention).

And I think Rankin has created a richer character with his interest in music. So I keep writing about it, trying to capture something about performance, identity, feeling, expression, energy -- all those things music makes me feel and think about. I share some of the experience Rankin invents for Rebus: how that music can pull us through, like time itself or a plot device, getting us from one point to another.

And I love the ride when I listen to Gomez. I love the way they grasp hold of a song again and again -- how they made up the songs to include the reminders to keep paying attention, every time you sing a new verse or change tempo or add a new texture.

Ian Rankin's Scottish Cop Novels

Okay, I admit to having become completely addicted of late to Ian Rankin's John Rebus series of mystery novels. He's a maverick cop based in Edinburgh who works on instinct and is fueled by booze. I am trying to figure out why I haven't been able to stop reading them and have come up with a couple of answers.

First, Rankin is clearly as interested in music as I am, and works song titles and lyrics into his character's consciousness throughout. Many of the references are lost on me, but I'm often inspired to go check out some band he refers to.

Second, his books are well constructed and rich in detail about Scotland's places and peculiarities. I always delight in deconstructing the jargon (only a few bits have eluded me so far but a good example in the novel I'm reading so far is "paraffin budgies" for helicopters) and recognizing all the little Britishisms. They have quite the penchant for abbreviations and sometimes cutesy phrases (recce for reconnoiter, drinkies, walkies, and so forth). He explains Scottish terms for weather and national characteristics (how fat and sugar are the heart of the Scottish diet, and if you add alcohol you have the heart and soul, he says). The regional jargon and the twists and turns of the stories keep my mind sharp, and I enjoy them the same way others enjoy crossword puzzles.

Third, I thought I was just a bit of an Anglophile, having visited London a couple of times, but it turns out I have something of a feel for Britain as a whole. I've been told I have Scotch-Irish roots, so it figures, I suppose, that the atmosphere Rankin describes feels somehow familiar. Despite being a resident of the Western United States for my entire life, I've always felt so at home in Europe, in the Netherlands, Spain, Italy, and France. Germany felt too familiar, and I was not comfortable in Portugal, but I'm sure the latter discomfort was the combination of the language barrier (no, Portuguese is nothing like Spanish, the closest I ever got to a second language) and its being the first European country I ever visited (I was trying way too hard to blend in, which I no longer worry about but still get asked for directions in the native languages). I hope to see more of Britain, despite much of its reputation, not disputed in Rankin's books, as a fairly grim and dreary place.