RALPH, ALBERT & SYDNEY
from ...The
Transmigration of
Timothy Archer
by Philip K Dick
from ... Philip K Dick’s "The
Transmigration of Timothy Archer" (1982)
He now, as was his custom, abruptly shifted mental gears. "I'm commissioning a rock mass to be given at Grace this Christmas." Scrutinising me he said, "What is your opinion about Frank Zappa?"
I was at a loss for an answer.
"We would arrange for the actual service to be recorded," Tim continued.
"So it could be released as an album. Captain Beefheart has also been recommended to me. And there were several other names offered. Where could I get a Frank Zappa album to listen to?"
"At a record store," Jeff said.
"Is Frank Zappa black?" Tim asked.
"I don't see that that matters," Kirsten said. "To me, that is inverse prejudice."
Tim said, "I was just curious. This is an area I know nothing about. Does any of you have an opinion about Marc Bolan?"
"He's dead," I said. "You're talking about T. Rex."
"Marc Bolan is dead?" Jeff said. He looked amazed.
"I could be wrong," I said. "I suggest Ray Davies. He writes the Kinks' stuff. He's very good."
"Would you look into it for me?" Tim said, speaking both to Jeff and me.
"I wouldn't know how to go about doing that," I said.
Kirsten said quietly, ''I'll take care of it."
"You could get Paul Kantner and Gracie Slick," I said. "They just live over at Bolinas in Marin County."
"I know," Kirsten said, nodding placidly and with the air of total confidence. Bullshit, I thought. You don't even know who I'm talking about. Already you're in charge, just from being set up in this apartment. It isn't even that much of an apartment.
Tim said, "I would like Janis Joplin to sing at Grace."
"She died in 1970," I said.
"Then whom do you recommend in her place?" Tim asked. He waited expectantly.
" 'In Janis Joplin's place,' " I said. " 'In Janis Joplin's place.' I'll have to think that over. I really can't come up with a name off the top of my head. That will take some time."
Kirsten regarded me with a mixture of expressions. Mostly disapproval. "I think what she's trying to say," Kirsten said, "is that no one can or ever will take Joplin's place."
"Where would I get one of her records?" Tim said
"At a record store," Jeff said.
"Would you do that for me?" his father said.
"Jeff and I have all her records," I said. "There aren't that many. We'll bring them over."
"Ralph McTell," Kirsten said.
"I want all these suggestions written down," Tim said. "A rock mass at Grace Cathedral is going to attract a good deal of attention."
I thought: There is no such person as Ralph McTell. Across the room Kirsten smiled at me, a complicated smile. She had me; I couldn't be sure one way or another.
"He's on the Paramount label," Kirsten said. Her smile increased.
"I had really hoped to get Janis Joplin," Tim said, half to himself. He seemed puzzled. "They were playing a song with her (perhaps she didn't write it) on the car radio this morning. She's black, isn't she?"
"She is white," Jeff said, "and she is dead."
"I hope somebody is writing this down," Tim said.