Tucker Eskew forwarded:

> A few weeks ago, several rock critics, music journalists and a
> publicist got an 11-page photocopied manifesto in the mail. Called
> "The Rock Critical List," the homemade screed had one point, which
> it hammered for about 3,000 or so words. To wit: "Music scribbling
> out of New York-based national publications at this exact moment is
> unnecessarily lifeless, artless and idiotically panglossed,
> useless even as a `consumer guide.'" Signed by one "Jo Jo Dancer,

Wow, a man after my own heart. That made my morning. It's too bad 
that about 99% of rock criticism and writing has been reduced to 
smug, hipper-than-thou crap. I'd rather read something 
by Neal or Jon or Roy or many of the other writers in our circle than 
read the masturbatory drivel Neil Strauss, Christgau and the rest of 
those fuckers pump out. Nothing pisses me off more than a 
frustrated artist cum writer who tries to become the show. Guess 
what, Robert? There's a reason why the guy or 
gal onstage gets laid more than you do.

</bile off>

np: Alejandro - Bourbonitis Blues

Greater Newport Roots Music Page: http://w3.one.net/~newport
Twangfest Central: http://www.twangfest.com

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