Great Christmas! My present to my better half Mr. Twister is running around wagging her tail and chewing a bone at
the moment.
And from Mr.Twister to me, a beautiful art book of luscious Japanese prints plus... this just published tome that's a real find: it's just so rare to find critiquing that matches the quality of its loftier subjects. I haven't encountered music writing this vivid since Nick Kent and John Mendelssohn in their heydays.
A writer of constant, breezy zingers
moored to an inquiring, feeling mind, author Nick Coleman
is your impassioned pal on a jag about rock and
soul, bon mots galore on every page, every paragraph. However, he's emotionally generous with enough depth to make this cynic get teary-eyed with his
description of Amy Winehouse's "...terrible, bone-eating pain that is
always the result of too much compulsion." Recommended read, bigtime,*
to remind us why we document great music...
*with this warning-- for American readers and others unfamiliar with this British scribe, there's a surprise, unhappy ending.
*with this warning-- for American readers and others unfamiliar with this British scribe, there's a surprise, unhappy ending.
No comments:
Post a Comment