Reviews of three new books.   Girl in Hyacinth Blue by Susan Vreeland (MacMurray & Beck, 242 pages, $17.50)   A math professor invites an art professor over to see a painting that he claims is an original Vermeer. But he won't reveal how it came into his possession or why it's not documented. What's the deal? Through the magic of fiction, the author traces the Dutch masterpiece through a series of owners to its conception in the 17th century. Vreeland displays her writing strengths and weaknesses throughout the chapters, each of which takes place in a different historical period. In one, set in 1747, a beleaguered Dutch family finds a baby and the painting left in its boat with a note: "Sell the painting. Feed the child." In another, set in 1940, a Jewish family in Amsterdam buys the painting at a benefit for German Jewish refugees. Predictably, some chapters are stronger than others, but the beauty of the painting becomes more real with each page. Vreeland displays imagination and verve with her unique use of structure and plot. As a reader, there's something satisfying about having important information that the book's characters can never hope to gain. Girl in Hyacinth Blue explores art as an investment, art as a political statement, art as a moral dilemma, art as a bargaining chip and, finally, art as art. Susan Wickstrom   Generation Ecstasy: Into the World of Techno and Rave Culture by Simon Reynolds (Routledge, 454 pages, $17.99) For people who don't know their Orb from their Orbital, their MDMA from their MIDI, Simon Reynolds' Generation Ecstasy--now out in paperback from trendy academic publisher Routledge--is the answer to their techno troubles. In 400-plus pages, the self-confessed anglophile and former senior editor at Spin lays out the sociocultural history of techno, from its early days in Detroit to its present reincarnations in the clubs of the United States and Europe. This ample book is divided into 19 chapters, each dealing with a noticeable shift in the trajectory of the music, such as the Madchester rave 'n' roll phenomenon; the second wave of Detroit techno; gabba and happy hardcore; and drum and bass. To complement each chapter, a discography (of almost 40 pages) is included at the book's end. Though by no means definitive--as the author himself has noted--it does give the reader a decent idea of the more influential tracks in genres ranging from breakbeat hardkore and ambient dub to big beat and speed garage. Walking the line between obsessed fan and detached critic, Reynolds carefully traces the variety of developments in techno and its accompanying drug culture over the last decade or so, interweaving interviews, analyses of specific tracks and albums, personal recollections of raves, political commentary and much more. Though massively informative, Generation Ecstasy has a flaw or two, one being the excess of the author's metaphorical flourishes. Another involves the pseudo-academic nature of the work, with its passing references to the likes of Adorno and Lacan. When adequately developed, however, the theoretical tangents can be quite enlightening, as is the case with the discussion of Antonio Melechi's idea of the rave as a form of "internal tourism." A book like this is bound to rub a few fans the wrong way. Some have argued that it focuses too much on the British scene, although the reply to that would be that rave culture has been huge there for more than 10 years now, infiltrating everything from the soccer stands to the churches. Its few flaws aside, Generation Ecstasy is an admirable book, serving as both a valuable history and a useful reference work. Jonathan Morrow     The Deadhead's Taping Compendium, Vol. II: An In-Depth Guide to the Music of the Grateful Dead on Tape, 1975-1985 By Michael M. Getz and John R. Dwork (Owl Books/Henry Holt & Company, 756 pages, $32.50)   For most people, the word "Deadhead" conjures up images of zonked-out longhairs sporting Birkenstocks and patchouli who are endlessly twirling in a nostalgia time warp. While there is some truth to this tired generalization, the most hardcore 'Heads at a Grateful Dead show are usually the fans located in the tapers' section. There, amid a forest of microphones, DAT recorders and electrical wires, true Deadheads nightly seek to capture a piece of history by legally recording every note the band played. This makes the Grateful Dead the most bootlegged group in rock history, and any Deadhead worth a damn knows that the boys' best work was never on any album but was captured by these devoted masses of tapers. In '98, authors Getz and Dwork released a book that was almost as impressive, compulsive and invaluable as the act of taping these shows. The Deadhead's Taping Compendium, Vol. I listed, discussed and deconstructed every taped Dead performance from the pre-Dead years of 1959 up through 1974. It was then considered the most important book on the band (and believe me, there are too many others to count). Now, one year later, the authors have topped their original creation by detailing every tape of every show (over 700!) that the Dead played between 1975 and 1985. In addition to lengthy reviews of each performance--a number of which are more scathing than any rock critic has ever written--the book provides the source (audience tape or soundboard), the length and the genealogy of each tape discussed and grades its quality. They even take time to point out highlights from each show (e.g., "The 'Fire on the Mountain' on 5/8/77 was smoking!") and list the essential tapes worth seeking for each year. For Deadheads, this staggering undertaking is indispensable. If you hate the band, perhaps the book will alter your stereotypical opinion of Deadheads. Some say there's nothing like a Grateful Dead concert. This mind-blower demonstrates that the same sentiment extends to the fans. Dave McCoy - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Willamette Week | originally published September 15, 1999