The relationship between an artist and their most famous work is almost never simple. The song that the world associates with you — the one they scream for, the one that appears in every article’s headline, the one that will be in the first line of the obituary — is rarely the song you love … Read more
The relationship between Chuck Berry and Elvis Presley is one of the most complicated and least examined in the history of rock and roll. On the surface it looks simple: two foundational figures of the same musical revolution, operating in adjacent territory, sharing sources — the blues, the rhythm and blues tradition, the specific American … Read more
The first gray thread of dawn had just begun stitching itself across the ridgeline when the Harley’s low thunder rolled up the gravel road that dead-ends at my property line. I was already awake—had been for an hour—standing at the kitchen window with a cooling cup of coffee and the old Zeiss binoculars I keep … Read more
The relationship between a major artist and their record label is almost never a relationship between equals. The label controls distribution, marketing, the specific machinery that transforms a recorded piece of music from a private object into a public one. The artist controls the creation. And in the space between those two spheres of control … Read more
John Lennon was the most honest major public figure of his generation. Not the most diplomatic. Not the most strategic. The most honest. He had developed, possibly as a defense mechanism against the overwhelming unreality of his own fame, an almost compulsive commitment to saying the true thing even when the true thing was damaging … Read more
There is a version of yourself that the world knows and a version that exists when the world is not looking. For most people the distance between these two versions is manageable — a matter of degree rather than kind, the public self a somewhat more polished or more guarded version of the private one. … Read more
There are mornings that arrive after nights that should not have been survived. Nights so heavy with loss that the act of continuing — of breathing, of existing in time, of being a person in a world that has just done something irreversible — feels like an offense against the magnitude of what has happened. … Read more
The Yellow Dress She Was Afraid to Wear When Graham Weller came home that evening with a small white shopping bag, his wife knew what was inside before he spoke. It wasn’t jewelry. It wasn’t flowers. It was something far heavier. Graham stood in the doorway in his leather vest and motorcycle boots, rain still … Read more
December 8th, 1980. The news moved through the music world the way terrible news moves — in waves, person by person, each person absorbing it and then reaching for the phone because the absorbing required another person to absorb it with. John Lennon was gone. Shot outside his home in New York by a man … Read more
The night pressed down like a living thing. It was the kind of darkness that lived in the spaces between the sodium lights of the Marathon station off Highway 41, the kind that swallowed the edges of the parking lot and made the pine trees on the far side look like they were leaning in … Read more