I'm guessing this was the first Robbe-Grillet retrospective in NYC. Even though Last Year at Marienbad had been a fairly big art-house hit in the States—Robbe-Grillet wrote the screenplay—his subsequent films as writer-director had not made as big a splash. They remain somewhat obscure.

I got heavily into the guy in college after reading a book or two in lit class and then seeing Marienbad. Any description of the film makes it seem unwatchable: shots and sequences are repeated with minor variations throughout, dialog is sparse, and there is no plot. Many shots feature background actors frozen in position, or slow tracking shots through hotel corridors with monotonous voice-overs and Messiaen-like solo organ. Nonetheless, for a certain type of audience the proceedings are fascinating. I include myself in that audience, at least when I'm in the right mood. I was certainly in that mood in college, exposed for the first time to Kafka and Borges, the Theater of the Absurd, modern architecture, and twentieth-century academic music, heady stuff for a rube from Columbus.

Robbe-Grillet was one of the leading lights of the Nouveau Roman, the French new novel of the 1960s. Books I was first exposed to included La Jalousie (Jealousy), Projet pour une révolution à New York (Project for a Revolution in New York), and especially Pour un Nouveau Roman (For a New Novel), a 1963 book of essays that explained the theoretical underpinning of his work.

Unfortunately this book had a profound effect on what I was writing in those days. I published a shamefully derivative short story called Room With a Couch, a miniature of Jealousy, in a Cincinnati literary magazine called Syzegy. A short screenplay called Lakewood, a miniature of Marienbad, becames a large-scale student production when I secured academic credit for anyone who joined the crew. I'd also secured access to the Broadcasting Department's television studio for the entire summer, along with a broad selection of 16mm equipment. One part of that equipment pool, a Sony sync-sound deck recommended by a film teacher, doomed the entire project. We unknowingly recorded every piece of dialog out of sync. I could fix it today on the computer, but in 1975 it was impossible.

Here's the gear I was using, set up on a table in my bedroom for months. In the top two photos is a 4-gang synchronizer, which theoretically allowed me to align a strip of mag film containing the audio with the images. Below that is the Moviescop, which let me see the results. Finally there is a the 16mm splicer where I made the cuts and glued together the two newly-shortened strips of film. If the equipment looks antique to you, it is; everything I used (except for the tape head to read sound) could have been found on an editor's table in the 1920s.

Even if we had succeeded in finishing Lakewood, my Robbe-Grillet infatuation guaranteed that no audience would understand what the fuck I was doing. I had little understanding myself except that I wanted to write like him, and if my audience didn't get it, their fault not mine. This attitude has never been much of a template for success. Of course I was unconcerned with success; I was going to be an artist. For more photos from the Lakewood epic (or How My Film Career Was Nipped in the Bud) see this 1975 entry.

Despite the insisting asterisks in the program above, Robbe-Grillet was there taking questions at every screening I attended. He was teaching a literature class at NYU only a few blocks from the Anthology. I imagine that he was excited to see his films with an actual New York City audience.

The band was in the middle of the set when we stepped outside for a couple of snaps. Anna (the owner of both Downtown Beirut bars) can be seen in the foreground. She gave us the space and a keg as a wedding gift. Bill Pritz the baker brought a huge carrot cake from his shop up in Harlem, also a gift. When I first saw Carolyn in the Betsy Johnson dress it took my breath away.

Friends Roy Edroso and John Terhorst (along with Gene from Bad Tuna on the kit) generously gave us a rocking, total-skronk set for the reception. Loud and pure noise at its best! What a gift: I'd like to know who else in the world can say the Reverb Motherfuckers played at their reception.

It was an extremely casual affair. I recruited my best man Bob, the guy who took this photo, out in the parking lot before we got started. Originally slated outdoors for the Park of the Roses, an hours-long deluge forced a shift to the reception venue, the women's club next door. Power was knocked out for half of Columbus; we got dressed for the ceremony in the dark.

Technically this was still part of the honeymoon, an overnight ferry between the Shetland Islands and Iceland. I sectioned it off from the rest of the trip because the place was so extraordinary. The only way these photos could do justice to what we saw would be to print them billboard size.

The Iceland ferry route starts in a channel between rows of massive monochromatic peaks; I ran out of color film soon after the passage began. It's almost hard to say which prints are in color and which are in black-and-white. Most were Tri-X, my favorite film stock then and now. I’ve confused things even further by tinting the last image and then giving it a title: to me it looked a century-old print found in a junk shop.

Like a switch being thrown, the second we cleared the channel we both became seasick. Gone were dinner plans; we spent the rest of the evening horizontal in our cabin. Carolyn crawled out for Dramamine at one point; she pantomimed vomiting for the woman who kept a supply at the service desk. During the night the sea swells became intense; wallet, brushes, books, and change on a night table went flying. Note that the night table had raised edges to prevent this from happening. Our cabin was four decks above the waterline and we saw rising waves higher than our porthole.

I'd been dreaming of ocean adventure for years, dreams like George Bailey’s fantasies in It’s A Wonderful Life. Now all I could think about was how cold the water would be, how dark, how deep.

By 1989 it was becoming difficult for me to distinguish what tune came from which source. I was still buying 45s and LPs; the last LP I bought with new music on it was Janet Jackson's 1989 Rhythm Nation. I don't remember my last 45 purchase, but even I had to acknowledge that the CD was suddenly, overwhelmingly, there, and I was going to have to make the change.

I looked forward to it; I was glad the tryanny of the turntable with its pops, scratches, and vulnerability had finally been overthrown. The first CD I heard was a 1983 release from Jesseye Norman singing the Four Last Songs of Richard Strauss. I have written about this experience elsewhere but the most significant takeaway for me was the space between tracks: there was nothing there. No surface noise, just absolute silence. I was in audiophile shock.

1989 was one of the best years I ever had and it was all there in the music. Carolyn had made all the difference; we married in August. I started graduate school at NYU in September and I loved all of it; I'd given up teaching junior high school for the interim. Carolyn had also returned part-time to pursue an English degree at Hunter. She was still working at the bar; that was the whole of our income aside from the $25k I'd borrowed for school.

I was probably at the height of my interest in great producers; for me this meant Phil Spector, Brian Wilson, and Glenn Gould. Spector's Rare Masters LP was the gift that kept on giving; two of the songs on it joined my desert-island collection, Why Don't They Let Us Fall In Love from Veronica (Ronnie Spector) and Quiet Guy by Darlene Love. (I wrote a piece about the Rare Master collections when I briefly worked for Time.com, the magazine's website.) At the end of '88 I witnessed a remarkable concert at The Bottom Line: Spector's Christmas album recreated on stage with Darlene and Ronnie both in attendance. There was a sizable ensemble behind them and a gimmick that was the icing on the cake, Sonny Bono in person recreating Spector's cameo appearance on the LP, his address to his Philles Records audience.

Carolyn gifted me her interest in Sean McGowan and The Pogues; I love them to this day. I was still obsessing over soundtracks like La Dolce Vita and Blue Velvet, and I continued to listen to innovative bands like The B-52s and The Pet Shop Boys (particularly their work with Dusty Springfield). Rap or hip-hop or whatever you wanted to call it was introducing great new acts and great new singles: there was Voodoo Ray, I'll House You, Me Myself and I. Roberta Flack's 12" of Uh Uh Ooh Ooh Look Out (Here It Comes) was a superb dance track.

Outside of mainstream pop I was finally catching up to Caetano Veloso, Gal Costa, Ben Webster, and most importantly, Thelonious Monk. His solo piano version of 'Round Midnight is another one for that desert island. In the years that followed Monk led me to Miles and Miles to Coltrane. It's been a hell of a ride and it continues.

Another interesting note: we were told by a music-industry customer from the bar that The Cocteau Twins' early shoegaze track, Carolyn's Fingers, had been inspired by—wait for it—Carolyn's fingers dancing across the ancient Beirut cash register! The industry guy swore he'd brought a member of the band into the bar one night, but the tale can't be verifed since the lyrics are in a made-up language. It's a good story verified or not, and certainly a great single.

(You can watch the fascinating fingers of that famous bartender in my video Night at Downtown Beirut.

Deep Purple: Nino Tempo and April Stevens
Rainy Night in Soho: The Pogues
Deep Sleep [from the 12" EP Mesopotamia]: The B-52s
Blue Velvet Main Title [from the LP soundtrack Blue Velvet]: Angelo Badalamenti
Someone To Watch Over Me [from the LP Stardust]: Willie Nelson
Bulrushes: The Bongos
Why Can't A Boy and Girl Just Stay In Love [from the LP Phil Spector's Rare Masters]: April Stevens
Fall On Me: R.E.M.
Breakout: Swing Out Sister
I Get Weak: Belinda Carlisle
It's Getting Harder: Debbie York
God Will [from a cassette]: Lyle Lovett
Out of Nowhere [from the LP Charlie Parker With Strings]: Charlie Parker
Dream Lover: The Paris Sisters
Notturno O Mattutino [from the soundtrack LP La Dolce Vita]: Nino Rota
She Brakes for Rainbows [from the LP Bouncing Off Satellites]: The B-52s
Round Midnight [from a cassette gifted me by a friend, Thelonius Monk Piano Solo: Thelonious Monk
O Leãozinho [from the LP Beleza Tropical: Brazil Classics 1]: Caetano Veloso
Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground: Willie Nelson
Melt Away: Brian Wilson
I'm Into Something Good: Earl-Jean
Elusive Butterfly: Bob Lind
Via Veneto e i Nobili [from the soundtrack LP La Dolce Vita]: Nino Rota
Carolyn's Fingers [from the LP Blue Bell Knoll]: Cocteau Twins
In Your Room: The Bangles
Lullaby of London [from the LP If I Should Fall from Grace with God]: The Pogues
Fast Car: Tracy Chapman
All Strung Out On You: Nino Tempo and April Stevens
Why Wait (La Dolce Vita-Finale) [from the soundtrack LP La Dolce Vita]: Nino Rota

Nothing Has Been Proved: Dusty Springfield with The Pet Shop Boys
Chelsea Bridge [from the LP Ballads]: Ben Webster
She May Call You Up Tonight: The Left Banke
Keep On Movin' (club mix from 12"]: Soul II Soul
Baby [from the LP Beleza Tropical: Brazil Classics 1]: Gal Costa
Voodoo Ray (original mix from 12"): A Guy Named Gerald
Keep Your Hands Off My Baby: Little Eva
Get On the Dance Floor (Skye King remix): Rob Base and D.J. E-Z Rock
Why Don't They Let Us Fall In Love [from the LP Phil Spector's Rare Masters]: Veronica
Eres Tu: Moceadados
Bali Ha'i: Rosemary Clooney with Perez Prado and His Orchestra
You Don't Have to Say You Love Me: Dusty Springfield
excerpt from Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White: Perez Prado and His Orchestra
Uh Uh Ooh Ooh Look Out (Here It Comes) [from the 12" Arthur Baker remix]: Roberta Flack
What Have I Done to Deserve This: Dusty Springfield with The Pet Shop Boys
Pet Cematary [single version from 12"]: The Ramones
Little By Little: Dusty Springfield
Act of Contrition [from the LP Like a Prayer]: Madonna
Love is Blue: Claudine Longet
I'll House You [12"]: The Jungle Brothers
Saturday Night at the Duckpond: The Cougars
Me Myself and Eye: De La Soul
Highway to Hojo [from the LP Route 666]: Reverb Motherfuckers
Goldberg Variation #30 [from the LP Bach: The Goldberg VariationsZ 1956 version]: Glenn Gould
So In Love [from a Singer-Saints cassette compiled by Richard Mortifoglio]: Mabel Mercer
Canadian Sunset: Hugo Winterhalter

Kansas cannot be depicted in Academy ratio; it is a place made for widescreen, like Zinneman’s Todd-AO version of Oklahoma. In this photo I was cropping to 70mm aspect ratio (as was often done in Hollywood). If the desert vistas looked that good in Lawrence of Arabia, why couldn't Kansas?