perfidy

I think I hate Doktor Frank. Upon reflection, that's a bit harsh. I ought to sharpen that a bit, and say I am gripped by a seething jealousy of Doktor Frank. There. That's more like it. The reason for my seething jealousy is this post. It's a wonderful discourse on the joys and perils of music wonkery, the nature of the individual experience of music fandom, and the subjective, atomistic nature intrisic to the experience of musical enjoyment. Except he's not an asshole about it like I am.

Also worthy of jealousy is this two-part post on My Completely Random Life (one, two), on the Culture Wars and the relative decline of Rock and Roll as the ruler of all. My compatriot mentioned this post previously in this same forum, but it's so good that I think it deserves a second glance.

Finally, Slate asks the irrelevant question, "Was Lester Bangs The Best Rock Critic Of The 70's?. Irrelevant doesn't imply un-interesting, though. An older wiser Lester would be the first to admit that everything he wrote about Lou Reed was, in the end, totally irrelevant. Irrelevant, but interesting, illuminating, tortuous, tortured, thoughtful, eager, and compulsively readable.

Watch, as I try to tie all this together like a monkey toying with a piece of twine. Go, monkey, go!