Recent Reads Vol. 1
The death of music criticism, Amanda Petrusich on MJ Lenderman, and the definitive biography of Terry Allen.
No Country For Old Men 01: This existential crisis gets a 3.9/10 by Son Raw via Passion of the Weiss
In mid-August, writer Son Raw–I assume a pseudonym–published the first of what aims to be a regular column on Passion of the Weiss called “No Country For Old Men.” If whatever follows is half as good as the introduction, it’s worth keeping an eye on. I nerd out on music–its creation, its promotion, the context and coverage of a release. Here, Raw asks an increasingly legitimate question: What’s the point of music criticism in 2024?
I had an insatiable appetite for criticism as a music blogger and mediocre, self-published critic more than a decade ago. Mostly because I desperately wanted to be a part of the discourse around the releases I cared about.
I said in the welcome post to this newsletter, I don’t have any intention to dive back into criticism. As a father of a preschooler, I don’t have the time for the dedicated listening required to pen an informed review. As Raw points out, there’s no money in that hustle anyway. That said, the thing I loved about writing an album review was figuring out, for myself, what made an album click. What did I love about it? It’s one thing to say, “I like this. I don’t like that.” It’s quite another to figure out why.
MJ Lenderman Keeps it Raw by Amanda Petrusich via The New Yorker
I’ve been obsessed with Amanda Petrusich since I read her 2007 contribution to the 33 ⅓ series for Bloomsbury on Nick Drake’s Pink Moon. At the time, I knew her as an occasional Pitchfork contributor. Since then, I devoured Do Not Sell at Any Price–her document of obsessive 78 RPM record collectors–and I’ve kept up with as much of her writing as possible.
In her most recent feature for The New Yorker, Petrusich profiles Asheville songwriter MJ Lenderman on the heels of his sensational new record Manning Fireworks. In the second paragraph, Petrusich describes Lenderman as a great hope for indie rock, a genre she subsequently defines with more accuracy than I’ve been able to manage in a decade attempting to do so. I may tattoo this line on my arm or put it on my tombstone: “scrappy, dissonant, guitar-based music that’s unconcerned, both sonically and spiritually, with whatever is steering the Zeitgeist.”
All of this is to say, you should read more Amanda Petrusich and buy the new MJ Lenderman record.
Truckload of Art: An Authorized Biography by Brendan Greaves
A while back, while highlighting the latest Jessica Pratt LP, I hinted at my addictive personality. In that post, I confessed one of my obsessions is Terry Allen–my favorite Texas troubadour. That’s a bold statement about a state that has produced some sensational songwriters. I’ve spent a considerable amount of time contemplating whether Allen’s Lubbock (On Everything) is the only record I truly need to own.
In mid-March, Brendan Greaves released the first biography of Terry Allen. And he’s the one to do it. As the head of the formidable Paradise of Bachelors, he’s responsible for bringing Terry to a new generation of listeners like me. This is a tome–more than 540 pages including notes and citations. I’m only through the first third of the book, but I’ve particularly enjoyed the insights into Terry’s family. When you start to get a sense of his father’s career as a promoter of semi-pro wrestling and music, the development of Terry’s artistic vision feels more inevitable than impossible.
This feels like the appropriate place to share a personal dream of mine: Indianapolis is home to the Eiteljorg Museum, focused on Native American and western art. In addition to his work as a musician, Allen is a visual artist. I have a dream of bringing him to Eiteljorg for a performance and exhibition of his visual art. Maybe the publication of this biography is finally the time to do it. Do you know someone at Eiteljorg? Let’s make it happen.