BLAST FROM THE PAST

After ten inimitably ribald adventures, it’s about time that rocker/raconteur Friedman served up an account of how he became a shamus in the first place, and so his magic carpet takes us back to 1979. Kinky, crashing with his friend Ratso Sloman, is quietly trying to consummate his relationship with new friend Judy on Ratso’s couch when some comments from a couple of passersby alert him to the attractions of becoming a private dick. In no time at all, the Kinkster’s got himself two cases: the mystery of Judy’s old lover Tom, shot down over Vietnam, buried with full military honors, and now turned up again, she insists, in the Village; and the question of why somebody is trying to shoot aging radical Abbie Hoffman, the man who invented the ’60s. It’s clear from this backward glance that Kinky was always a natural. As he goes through the motions of meeting such Vandam Street familiars as reporter Mike McGovern, rabbinical student Steve Rambam, and Mort Cooperman, NYPD, he floats through the introductions, and through the mystery itself, in the same Zen-like stupor you’d swear he’d taken years to perfect. En route to solving the case via his trademark method, breaking and entering (Abbie’s lawyer, William Kunstler, is the target this time), Kinky proves once again that no joke is too old, too low, or too irrelevant to work in somehow. By the time he pulls the whole train into the station, the ’60s are definitely over. Fully the equal of Road Kill (1997), though, as usual with Kinky, the hardest thing to detect is the plot.