BOOK: Gene Sculatti, ‘Tryin’ to Tell a Stranger ‘Bout Rock and Roll: Selected Writings, 1966-2016’
Even if retro rock and pop fans don’t recognize Gene Sculatti’s name, there’s a pretty good chance they have some of his work kicking around their record stacks. For decades, Sculatti has been one of the most prolific liner-notes writers in the business, penning essays for Beach Boys rereleases in the ’70s, Madonna’s greatest hits The Immaculate Collection in the ’90s, and, currently, a wide variety of reissues from labels like Rhino, Collector’s Choice, and Real Gone Music. (He contributed essays to such recent REBEAT reviews as the Staple Singers’ Amen!/Why and Brook Benton’s Rainy Night in Georgia singles comp.)
In addition to penning liner notes, Sculatti has also spent five decades as a rock journalist, writing for a myriad of publications including Crawdaddy! (the first periodical devoted to rock writing), Rolling Stone, Creem, the Los Angeles Times, Billboard, and Radio & Records, serving as editor of the latter from 1975-1981.
His new book, Tryin’ to Tell a Stranger ’Bout Rock and Roll: Selected Writings 1966-2016 (available in paperback and Kindle ebook) compiles reviews, interviews, features, liner notes, and lists from throughout his career into a relatively slim but potent volume.
Tryin’ to Tell a Stranger is structured less like Sculatti’s “greatest hits” and more like a bildungsroman, tracing the path of the juvenile hero as he comes into his own. The book opens with the 1966 feature “San Francisco Bay Rock,” more notable for its historic import (as the first national article on the Frisco rock scene) than for its workmanlike prose.
Published in the sixth issue of Crawdaddy!, the feature is followed by two reviews penned the same year for Mojo Navigator Rock & Roll News, the other first-wave publication for rock criticism. Sculatti’s pieces on Simon & Garfunkel’s Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme and the Kinks’ Face to Face endearingly read less like the over-the-top New Journalism-style rock criticism of the ’70s and more like book reports written by a bright teenager.
By the early ’70s, however, Sculatti had swerved in the opposite direction, in a florid, hyperactive style clearly indebted to his Creem colleague Lester Bangs — down to a contrarian review of a David Cassidy live album which he not-kiddingly (except sorta) praises the teen idol over his more critically beloved UK glam rock namesake.
However, a 1973 interview with John Lennon for Radio & Records, as well as the Phonograph Records feature “The Beach Boys: A California Saga” from the same year, find Sculatti developing the voice that would define his later work: smart but not show-offish, sardonic but not jaded, with a degree of wit and affability that makes his writing naturally engaging.
“Negative reviews?” Sculatti writes in Stranger’s introduction. “I’ve done a few, but with so much worth celebrating, why bother?” Still, the inclusion of some gleeful pans of America and the Guess Who add a little zip, while a 1980 feature on would-be Springsteens (“Born to Run Also-Rans Hit the Road”) and 1978’s genuine laugh-out-loud plea to “Free the Agent Noun!” (on the banality of band names like Player, Striker, and Trooper) make love letters like his 1976 review of the Ramones’ first album all the more striking.
Sculatti really hits his stride in the ’80s, penning features for the Los Angeles Times and Creem on L.A. punk rock, R&B label Solar Records, and, most amusingly, a study determining which “oldies” modern teens preferred. (Buddy Holly crushed Dylan and Hendrix, FYI.) An essay on “The Fine Art of TV Villainy” is pulled from Sculatti’s first book, 1982’s The Catalog of Cool, and is followed by his liner notes for the Four Seasons’ 25th Anniversary Collection. These longer, more thoughtful pieces play to Sculatti’s strengths: his enthusiasm, depth of knowledge, knack for humor, and personable writing style, which manages to be compelling without drawing too much attention to itself or dominating his subject.
Much of Sculatti’s ’90s work and beyond is split between liner notes for reissues and compilations — from Screamin’ Jay Hawkins’ Cow Fingers and Mosquito Pie, to the essential One Kiss Can Lead to Another girl-group box set — and pieces for niche outlets such as Scram magazine and Rock’s Back Pages writer’s blog, with titles like “The All-Time Top 10 ‘Next Dylans’” and “Yesterday Once More: Digging the Seventies’ Fifties Revival.”
Surprisingly, given that he’s been writing for half a century, over a third of Tryin’ to Tell a Stranger is devoted to Sculatti’s post-2000 work. The Internet Age has served Sculatti well, however, permitting him the freedom to write about what he chooses and the ease of reaching a specialized, appreciative audience.
Fittingly, the last piece in the book is the liner notes for an album by cult musician Ron Nagle, who, like Sculatti, has built up an eclectic, interesting body of work that’s nonetheless avoided mass acclaim. Sculatti may not have the name recognition of a Robert Christgau or a Greil Marcus, but Tryin’ to Tell a Stranger proves he’s a critic worth (re-)discovering.
