R.I.Fucking.P.
James Luther Dickinson died a few months ago. How did I miss this? The man was a genius, and now I’ll never get to interview him.
Seriously — the man who turned two Alex Chilton records * into masterpieces died, and I didn’t even know.
“Everybody goes as far as they can, they don’t just care/
You’re a wasted face, you’re a sad-eyed laugh, you’re a holocaust”
Goddamn, Jim — rest in peace.
[UPDATE (and the asterisk ***): Plus he produced yet another masterpiece, the one that led me to the Big Star and Chilton stuff.]
A crap biography….
… of Bowie, but I read on nonetheless. It’s factually flawed (Spitz calls this the “Event Harmonizer”???), occasionally infuriatingly written (dozens of unclear pronoun antecedents), and highly self-indulgent (the interstitial chapters are about Spitz not-meeting Bowie). But the arc’s compelling, as is the subject.
Someday, Bowie will write his own or authorize a good one. Until then, there’s always this.
World’s Worst Blogger Award
Six weeks? I am crap, aren’t I? Not even ambitious-but-crap. Just crap.