Following within the footsteps of the overdue nice Lester Bangs -- the main respected and irreverent of rock 'n' roll critics -- twenty-four celebrated writers have penned tales encouraged through nice songs. simply as Bangs solid new gentle on a Rod Stewart vintage together with his tale "Maggie May," a few completely unforeseen connection among an impressionable younger guy and an getting older, alcoholic hooker, the various, electrifying tales right here use songs as a springboard for a sort dubbed the lit riff.
along Bangs's vintage paintings, you can find tales by means of J.T. LeRoy, who places a getting better teenage drug abuser in a dentist's chair with not anything however the Foo Fighters's "Everlong" -- blaring throughout the P.A. -- to struggle the discomfort; Jonathan Lethem, whose narrator appears to be like again on his misplaced innocence simply as an extramarital affair careens to an finish -- this to the song "Speeding bike" as recorded by means of Yo los angeles Tengo; and Jennifer Belle, who envisions a prequel to Paul Simon's "Graceland" -- person who happens at a kid's birthday celebration replete with a true stay kangaroo.
With unique contributions from Tom Perrotta, Nelson George, Amanda Davis, Lisa Tucker, Aimee Bender, Darin Strauss, and lots of extra -- riffing on every body from Tom Waits and Bruce Springsteen to the White Stripes, Cat strength, and Bob Marley -- this can be either an wonderful selection of brief tales and a rare scan in phrases and song.
Soundtrack to be had from Saturation Acres track & Recording Co.

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Now little Dylan himself walks in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his hair a wild black heave—a seven-year-old package of pee donning not anything yet a Black Crowes T-shirt that’s no longer lengthy adequate to conceal his items. I may still yell approximately this, yet me and Morrison simply snort a few extra. the purpose is, I omit to examine the mail and don’t detect the letter from the dep. of Social providers. subsequent day I went to paintings, it was once hell as constantly. whenever she observed me, Mrs. Crailt, leader librarian, puckered her face as though she’d heard an insult. Too tall even in residences, that girl confirmed extra chins than I should still point out right here. “You definite you’ve cataloged every thing, and stacked the what’s lefts, Nanette? ” Why are girls so difficult on different ladies? Her hair used to be the stringy that pasta in a can usually is. After paintings I open my entrance door watching for the standard zoo, yet here’s Morrison and Dylan, either with reference to tears in entrance of the television, their heads down. Mo’s clenching his unfastened fist whereas a few gangly guy in a cardigan holds them by way of their palms. “Who the hell are you? ”—I’m attempting to sound like greater than the 5 foot 3 i'm. My arms are trembling. “Get the fuck out of my residence. ” “You don’t have to be alarmed, please. I’m trying to find Mrs. McQuaid—their mom? ” Cardigan has a breathy good-fairy voice and a large smile. “Ma’am, is Mrs. McQuaid your daughter? ” The guy’s obtained a decent grip on my boys; his fingernails are like Sno-Kones: pink, by way of a white that’s cold. “I’m the mummy, thank you,” I say. “Jim Plates,” the man singsongs. “Department of Social companies. ” He doesn’t permit pass of my boys. I’d been thirty-seven and years married while The Rave and that i did “blotter” acid in 1986. I sat on my own within the kitchen and it hit. I obtained so bring to a halt, Bono from U2 seemed. Bono wrapped me tight in freakishly large fingers, and he swept me from my house responsibilities, from my pondering myself. He spun me, his huge thumbs flicking my apron off, and earlier than I knew it Bono had me shut, his chest strong opposed to the mess of who i used to be. Bono held me in a fashion that he by no means could—he was once miles from me, within the eco-friendly television chair, ready on a beer—and i used to be comfortable in Irish palms within the kitchen. jointly we sang the “name” songs: “In the identify of affection” and “Where the Streets don't have any identify. ” Later, I squinted lower than emergency room lighting at a beaver-toothed med pupil. If he’d requested me, Do you're thinking that you’d turn out an outstanding mom someday? —or a mom in any respect? —I would’ve stated, close up and play yer guitar a few extra. yet I wiped clean up. Had the lads. And removed Dave the Rave (though no longer by way of choice). in any case that, the following i discovered myself in 2004 with gray-eyed Jim Plates, division of Social companies, a stranger throughout from me at my unset dinner desk. His breath was once a beesting in my nostrils. I’d despatched the youngsters open air. This Plates man says to me, “Mrs. McQuaid. ” He grins whereas he talks, that is a feat. ‘Tour son, uh, Dylan, tells me—” “Mr. Plates, how’d you get into my apartment? ” The breath smell’s no longer as undesirable if I breathe in via my mouth. i will be able to take keep an eye on of the location.

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