Wink

Joel Selvin (March 2003)

A world where windshield wipers fall in love and some people making a business out of licking lampshades may sound like something Ken Nordine imagined, but his 1967 album Twink was actually Nordine reading a little-known Beat Generation classic somebody else wrote. Robert Shure wrote the strange little poems, first published in 1957 by City Lights Books, the San Francisco publishing company operated by poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti. It was a tiny little book, three or four inches across, illustrated with whimsical black and white drawings by Ray Zimmerman. Nordine, whose own cult classic, Word Jazz, was also first released in 1957, stumbled across the tiny gem years later, but instantly recognized a kindred spirit.

“Two voices, one head,” he said. “I knew it was going to be perfect.” He recorded the dialogue, talking to himself from opposite sides of the stereo spectrum, one voice recorded dry, the other drenched in echo. The album was released in 1967 while he was signed with Phillips Records. Nordine was experiencing a modest comeback at the time on the early freeform underground radio stations. Not only were tracks from Word Jazz and Son Of Word Jazz showing up on psychedelic airwaves, his most recent album, the intuitively trippy Colors, also was finding favor in those circles. But Twink disappeared without a trace.

Over the years, the originality and imagination of Nordine’s anomalous creations has become ever more evident. What once was viewed—with some beneficence—as a quirky, if entertaining, irrelevance now is more commonly accorded the status of a timeless classic.He was saluted as a hipster elder by such acolytes as Jerry Garcia and Tom Waits, both of whom participated in Nordine’s 1991 (yet another comeback) album, Devout Catalyst, on Grateful Dead Records. The more recognition accorded Nordine, the more his wonderful recording of Shure’s little masterpiece was missed. Along comes Mitzi Johnson of Asphodel Ltd., who arranged the re-release of Nordine's other Phillips album, Colors, whose next project was the CD, Wink, that you hold in your hands. The recording was given a new title for its digital incarnation at the insistence of author Shure, who believed the original title to be a word entirely of his own invention, devoid completely at the time of any of the implications the term has gathered over the years in the gay community. The hallmark of his original work was its unfeigned innocence, an atmosphere the original title, alas, could no longer convey. “It's absolutely free of angst,” said Nordine. “Oh, there may be a little sadness in it here and there.”

Almost Cool (Aaron Coleman)

I've been a big fan of Ken Nordine for some time now. He's a spoken-word artist who has a rich baritone voice that always seems to have a bit of playful knowing behind it. In addition to releasing his own work, he's collaborated with lots and lots of different electronic musicians (including DJ Food on Kaleidoscope and Lord Runningclam on Fun For The Whole Family), and even though his act is a little bit more on the novelty side of things, I haven't found myself growing tired of it yet.

Clear back in 1957, a man named Robert Shure wrote a batch of strange little Beat Generation poems originally published by City Lights Bookstore in San Franciso. It was a tiny book with odd little line drawings that went along with the words (which actually work like a split-personality talking and answering to himself). 10 years after the book was published, Nordine stumbled across the collection and knew he had found someone whose sense of humor was right up his alley. He recorded an LP of 34 of these readings called Twink, and it has now found a re-release under a slightly different name (due to unintended adoption of the word over the years).

As mentioned above, the release is comprised of tracks that sound like little dialogues taking place inside someone's head who ponders the little things just a little bit too much. The two voices are on the opposite sides of the stereo spectrum, one dry, and one with echo. In addition to the voices, there is minimal instrumentation as a backing, usually a mixture of chimey lounge and jazz. Sound effects relating to the little conversations pop up ocassionally, but it never really strays too much from a simple formula.

That said, there is some hilarious stuff on this release. The opening track of "Windshield Wipers" laments the sad story of wipers that are in love (but can never truly be together), while "Ping Pong" ponders the bravery of ping pong balls and why the paddles weren't left with a silk covering (because then the name of the game might have changed to "Blip Blop"). Everyday objects are given a life of their own, as desk utensils are sympathized with ("Blotter") and even injects a bit of social commentary into a couple tracks ("Moth" and "When You're Born"). The background music changes just enough to keep things fairly fresh, and although the setup is the same for most tracks, it's the simple yet clever wordplay that will bring a smile to your face more than once (I got more laughs out of the 20 seconds of "Suede" than I have in all of the bits of network sitcoms I've randomly caught in the past year). It's definitely not a release you'd likely listen to from start to end, but you can show your hipster edge by putting it on at the next cocktail party.

Rating: 7.25

All Music Guide (Sean Carruthers)

Originally released as Twink in 1967 (and changed because of the unrelated connotations the word has been saddled with since), Wink is not a typical Ken Nordine album. Instead of a word jazz album with poetry of his own design, Wink takes a series of pieces written by beat poet Robert Shure and sets them to music. Knowing that it's not Nordine-penned, it might be tempting to write this one off without even hearing it, but that would be a mistake; Shure originally wrote the poetry in 1957, about the same time that Nordine was getting his start with the Word Jazz series of albums, and both shared a surreal sense of humor and a love of wordplay. In fact, the concept almost sounds like it was custom-designed for Nordine. Two voices, both voiced by Nordine and both presumably different facets of the same character, face off against each other and have discussions about topics that are both mundane and absurd. In one piece, there's a warning about why you should be afraid of meatballs; elsewhere there's a discussion of gabardine potatoes; another piece details why people who like apple cider are idiots. It's not all about food, though: windshield wipers fall in love, the society that draws the cracks in sidewalks is revealed, and the lampshade-licking business is detailed. Like Colors, the previous album Nordine had recorded, none of the tracks here are too long — all of them are under two minutes — so while it never quite goes into the kind of depth Nordine is capable of in his own extended pieces, by the time you get tired of one of the motifs, he's already moved on to the next bit. (The one annoying bit is that because the pieces are so short, each is separated by the sound of various bells; it can get a bit annoying but it does have the side effect of making the beginning of each piece sound like a customer entering a store, with each piece a new transaction.) The musical backing here is varied, with a bit of rock and some sound effects, but many of the pieces have a jazzy style that Nordine fans will find comfortably familiar.

$5 Review (Joel Calahan)

Wink is a collection of classic beat poems by Robert Shure, read by Ken Nordine, originally published in 1967 under the name “Twink.” Shure engages gabardine potatoes, left-handed cigars, cellophane shoes, and orangeade tears in these timeless barbs and reflections. Told as conversations between two voices within the same brain in alternating stereo channels, the haunting political, social, and moral jabs are backed by cool jazz that reflects the mood of each poem. Some poems are clever, some are cutesy, some heartbreaking; all intelligent and poignant.