VLVL Tiny Tim and Wild Man Fischer

[davemarc]

From: jbor <jbor at bigpond.com>

> In the novel Pynchon's exemplars of "hippie" musicians who
> achieved fame through self-parody are Tiny Tim and Wild Man Fischer.

I would describe Tiny Tim and Wild Man Fischer as Pynchon's real-life
exemplars of the way-off-the-beaten-track musicians who were able to land
significant recording contracts when a window of opportunity opened in the
late 1960s. Neither achieved fame through self-parody. They achieved fame by
sticking with their strange acts at a time when there was a high degree of
interest in signing such acts. The "hippie" description doesn't necessarily
suit either musician, though perhaps Fischer would qualify.

As quoted previously:
>
>     For one demented season the town lost its ear, and talent was signed
>     that in other times would have kept on wandering in the desert, and
>     in what oases they found, played toilets. (283-4)
>
Writes Irwin Chusid in Songs in the Key of Z:

"...Tiny Tim was not comedic fiction. He was genuine. He was also a fluke: a
guileless eccentric who suddenly attained heights of mega-stardom
unprecedented in the annals of outsider art--then just as quickly spiraled
back into the abyss of obscurity.

"It was, after all, 1968. In the aftermath of LSD-sparked psychedelia, pop
music was never weirder. Tiny had long hair. Maybe TV viewers thought he was
a flower child. Actually, in his loathing of drugs and loose sex and his
adoration for Nixon, Tiny was an anti-hippie.

"Tiny Tim was a star for the 90s--the 1890s. He briefly tracked on the
nation's cultural radar by doing what he'd been doing for almost two
decades, and what he would continue doing for three decades thereafter:
rescuring melodic relics from dusty cellars and practicing equally
antiquated chivalry in the worship of womanhood." (13)

In 1959, he had played Hubert's Museum and Live Flea Circus, in the basement
of a penny arcade in Times Square. After his burst of fame, he toured in a
circus sideshow. "His bookings included urine-stenched clubs in
Greyhound-circuit towns where a half-dozen drunken patrons would taunt
him--but a few admiring fans (known as "Tinyheads") might also turn up to
bask in what they considered his genius. County fairs, hotel lounges,
riverboats--his compulsion to entertain was unquenchable. His perseverance
earned him much respect from those who appreciate talented, neglected
performers who circulate in the margins." (18)

Chusid quotes Brother Cleve (of Combustible Edison) recalling Tiny at a dive
bar in Boston. The description is uncannily Pynchonesque (think V. as well
as the Spike Jones liner notes): "Tiny was the kindest, sweetest, most
clueless idiot savant I've ever had the pleasure of working with. He played
songs that none of us knew, in keys we couldn't deduce. He'd absorbed this
incredible backlog of songs, but had no idea how to give directions to other
musicians, except to say, 'When I spin my hand like this, play faster.' He
had a peculiar concept of rhythm, and would change chords out of meter,
without warning. I guess that's the result of decades of solo gigs. Yet he
was unarguably one-of-a-kind, a performer whose faults became his charms."
(19)

As for Fischer, Chusid recounts that Frank Zappa "found the demented drifter
howling his ragged serenades along L.A.'s Sunset Strip during the height of
hippiedom....

"....With Wild Man Fischer he seemed determined to produce an album with
*negative* sales appeal. Fischer was an obvious, albeit likeable, nutjob. He
couldn't carry a tune in a dumptruck...." (190)

By the time of the album Nothing Scary (1984), Fischer was recording over
the phone and in parks and tunnels as well as the recording studio. Chusid
describes him as "an industry outcast" circa 2000. (197) He also quotes the
musician's friend, actor-producer Bill Mumy: "Larry is a unique artist with
a one-of-a-kind mind....He literally combusts with songs. His melodies are
primitive and memorable. His lyrics are heartfelt, ranging from great pain
and angst, to the most innocent, genuine love imaginable." (198)

Chusid quotes Fischer as saying, in 1997, "I don't have much of a career
anymore. I've given up. But they're still talking about that album I made in
1968. Is that pretty good, or what?" Mumy describes him as living "poorly,
but with dignity." (198)

d.