Talk about covers, this is a wicked take on the Randy Newman son. She’s backed by the excellent Roots Band at the House of Blues in LA in 2001. She is so bad! I can think of another instance where she took a macho male song and turned it on its ear, a woman talking sexy to a man: “Work with me Henry,” years ago, cover of the classic, “Work with me Annie,” by Hank Ballard and the Midnighters.  She’s a powerhouse.

I was listening to Etta one time when I realized that great singers (like her, Otis, Sam Cook, Aretha, Al Green, etc.) always do exactly the right thing. There are many choices to make for a singer, and the tempo, timing, inflection, ad libs, etc. are always perfect. Zing! Right in there. I heard Howlin’ Wolf earlier today and it sounded so powerful — 50 years later. I’m afraid I’m going back and back in time in my musical tastes of late. Where is the equal of Muddy Waters in this day and age?

Things are poppin around here now. We’re approaching the finish line with the tiny homes book. pieces falling into place. It’s been a long haul, and still 6 months to go (Feb 2012) until books are in stores. This sure ain’t no instant book. Every day here is exciting right now. From our little recycled wood studio in the middle of a vegetable garden we’re in touch with the world via our many Macs and the web. Yesterday for example:

I did about a dozen emails preparatory to going to the Frankfurt Book Fair in October. It’s a huge event, been going on since the 1500s, the super bowl of the publishing world. I stay in a small hotel in the elegant spa town of Bad Homburg, about 20 miles north of Frankfurt,and usually use my 3-wheel K4 scooter to go the mile or so to the train station from the hotel; thinking of taking my new Bhangra long skateboard this year. So far I have appointments with publishers or agents from Germany, Spain, France, Italy, Scandinavia, Russia, mainland China, Taiwan, Korea, Australia, and South Africa.

We’ve been having repeated problems with our DSL connection, and may have, knock on the pine desk here, solved it yesterday when we talked AT&T into replacing the fiber optic card down the road. We’re really crippled when off-line. Thanks to Steve, our tech guy…

I feel like a juggler each day. Sometimes it feels as if things are skidding out of control. Permissions requests (mostly to reproduce drawings from Stretching), reprinting books when inventories get low, marketing, watching sales, trying to get the $$ to update our stretching software for Lion, and the big one: trying to figure out how to use the web to maximize publicity and sales.

Someone once said, at a publishing conference, that no one was in this business for the money. It’s true, and my publishing brothers and sisters know this: we’re doing this because we love books. We’re readers! And communicators. For some 40 years, Shelter has been tiptoeing through the publishing game, trying to get the money from bookstores in time enough to pay printers. We’ve always seemed to squeak by. In the old days, Random House would advance us money, Lately we’ve been making it on our own, but we’re approaching a very lean period, with sales down and the tiny homes book taking forever. We’re betting the farm on this new book.

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Check out the wonderful work being done by Playing for Change, putting together these clear recordings of musicians in different parts of the world

Sent us by Evan Kahn

I just had dinner at Han Bat, a 24-hour Korean restaurant a few doors down from the hotel. Meals served in stone bowls heated to near-incendiary temperatures, very exotic, many side dishes of pickled vegetables, almost all people eating there Korean. Like stepping into another country.

Upon the recommendation of Janice at the Spoonbill bookstore, I had dinner at Caracas Arepa, a Venezuelan restaurant a few blocks off Bedford last night. Hugely popular place, rightly so. Rum drinks. Their specialty is arepas, various fillings inside a wrapping made of white cornmeal, which is not fried, but grilled, then baked, making it crunchy. Wonderful food, wonderful place.

There were 4 girls having dinner at a nearby table. They had a pitcher of sangria and were having a great time. In the past week I’ve seen a bunch of girls-nights-outs at tables in various restaurants. So different without men. They’re really connecting, sharing, tuning into each other, comfortable without the big T present. Harmony.

Then I went over to the Ragegast Hall (a serious beer bar) on N. 3rd Street to see The Baby Soda Jazz Band. The bass player is Peter Ford and he plays a box bass that he sort of invented. (A year ago I finally talked him into making me one — I’d seen the band playing in Washington Square —  and I play it a little almost every day.) The band was in great form, doing ’20s-’30s music like Baby Won’t You Please Come Home and Struttin’ With Some Barbecue. Peter’s awesome on this one-string bass. A guest trombone player, who has played with Wynton Marsalis,  sat in. Great dancing, wonderful to see young people picking up on songs from this era. Diga Diga Doo…

Got in on Jet Blue red eye at sunrise. I never can sleep on planes, so got to my hotel at 35th and 6th Ave groggy and yes, a room was available at 7AM. Bliss! It’s the Hilton Garden Inn and I got a rate of $209 due to publishing friends’ corporate discount, it’s a place I would never have chosen, and it turns out to be perfect. Halfway between the Village and the park, nice room on 21st floor (window looks out at Empire State bldg.), cool staff (let me carry my own bags), Le Pain Quotidien for breakfast a few blocks away…

After showering and resting a bit yesterday, I headed uptown on 6th Ave. Got to Bryant Park, and the noise of birds in the trees was surprising. Hey, am I out in the woods or something? At the same time, cabs were hurtling down 6th, busses roaring.

San Francisco is my city and I love it for its beauty and variety and clear ocean air, but this here is the big daddy, the big sister, the Big Kahuna. Nothing like it. Something else fer shure. Each time I get here it grabs me.

I have with me in NYC, a K2 scooter, which I took out yesterday afternoon. (don’t understand why more people don’t get around this way.) I rode up to the park on 6th, then down to the Village on Broadway, using the green bike lanes in the street, or riding on the sidewalks. I can cover 2-3 times the ground I would walking, and it’s fun! Because of the handle, I’m a lot more secure than on a skateboard, plus it’s got a brake (press down on rear wheel fender). I fold it up to go into a store or restaurant.

Washington Square is really torn up right now; most of it is under construction and fenced off, but in a small section was an old guy on guitar, young harmonica player, sounding good. “Your mama can’t dance, and your daddy can’t rock and roll.” (Oh my!)

The city’s an energy infusion. Just walk out into the street, turn in any direction, and vwooom! The sights, sounds, smells, people, store fronts, the endless images — brain goes into overdrive. There’s a level of, what to call it? — maturity — here not found on west coast. Window displays, quality and variety of the shops, faces in the street, newspapers (Village Voice compared to SFWeekly), the CBS TV city newsroom anchors, the culture in general — it’s just the Big Time. There’s depth.

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