So this is how the world ends, not with a Bangs, but a whimper

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	• Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung: The Work of a Legendary Critic: Rock'N'Roll as Literature and ... Lester Bangs Anchor, 1988 - 416 pages average customer review:based on 46 reviews view larger image
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highly recommended

CRITICISM 101

This is how it's done! Lester probably never would have posted a review on Amazon. Maybe it's fortunate he never lived to see it. MTV pretty much killed him. Sure there was the Darvon, Valium, Amphetimines and cough syrup, but I'm pretty sure it was Martha Quin and the Buggles that put him over the edge. He would have hated the plasticine strip-mall tone of the highest ranking reviewers here.

Lester wasn't just a music critic. He was a manic Socratic rock addict. He had a passion for the thing. He had expectations of his idols which were frequently not met. His adoration for Lou Reed was too huge to sustain. It could only be met with bitter disappointments...and nobody could write about that pain, about coming up short, with more honesty than Lester Bangs. Critics are wankers and Lester would be the first to tell you that, but since we're infected by soul-crushing insecurities constantly wrestling with our even more diseased egos...well, everyone's a critic. Very few could turn it into art. Lester was a master at it.

I've worn out three copies of this book. High-lighted them beyond reason. Anyone who wants to be a writer, claims to be a writer,or plays at being a writer owes it to themselves (and others who may read their drivel) to read this collection.

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The Only Book You Will Ever Need

If you are at all interested in Rock And Roll, buy this book.

The cover is in tatters. I should have got a hardcover version. I carried this book with me wherever I went for months.

But enough effusive praise; the real reason you should get this book is because the words, the diction, the sheer energy in the sentences are rare indeed, especially in the nonfiction world. This is a primer for writing itself. I wish I would have read this when I was in High School.

The purchase pays for itself (intrinsically) with the chapter focusing on his correspondences between Lou Reed. Part Pop Culture history, part hyperbolic onslaught, part soap opera, part Oedipus, these pages are packed with drama.

For weeks my boyfriend and I had the TV off and we read to eachother in bed. You won't be disappointed.

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Awesome Read!

My husband loved this book! It is chalked full of rock n roll history and the bonus of this is how it was presented in a different manner. Lester Bangs' colorful descriptions keep my husband laughing, reading, and passing it on for the next person to enjoy.

This was a great buy and my husband recommends it highly!!!

So this is how the world ends, not with a Bangs, but a whimper

Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung: The Work of a Legendary Critic: Rock'N'Roll as Literature and Literature as Rock 'N'Roll is a collection of writing by the late Lester Bangs, edited by other writers and released posthumously. It begins with an appreciation of The Yardbirds, told by Bangs as an old geezer addressing the youth of the future. After establishing once and for all the awesomeness of the legendary supergroup, who boasted at various times not one but three awesome electric guitar virtuosos in Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, and Jimmy Page, he goes on to wax poetic about the Count Five, a garage band out of San Jose best known for their hit, Psychotic Reaction, which is pretty much a note for note rip off of "I'm a Man" by the Yardbirds (which was also a rip off of the bluesmen who wrote it, though it could be argued that The Yardbirds brought it to the next magnitude of awesomeness). He goes on to write about the Count Five for many more pages and paragraphs. He claims that even though he knows it is recycled trash, it stays enshrined on his turntable. Yes, so many records that you think you should like, that are technically perfect and have all the virtues you could ask for, and yet...

At first he was bummed out that such an obvious copy became an even bigger hit than the original. "It bummed me out at the time, but now that I think about it, it is totally appropriate. The song was a schlockhouse grinder, completely fatuous."

At some point in the career retrospective I begin to suspect that he is exaggerating to make a point, perhaps the second and third albums described by Bangs were never actually recorded. He is pulling our leg or indulging in an elaborate fantasy. I googgled Carburetor Dung and found no mention of it anywhere. And yet Bangs said it was their foray into progressive rock. He had me going there for a while.

The Count Five came from the suburbs of San Jose, and I know this because that is also my home town. I remember The Count Five, but they were older, and they played High School Dances that we missed, being only in Junior High School, or perhaps even Booksin Elementary, at the time. I remember a girl named Valerie whose claim to fame was that her brother had been in The Count Five, Gary, his name was, and later a friend of mine noted that Gary, the former member of The Count Five, refinanced his house. Of course, it was an Adjustable Rate Mortgage and he can no longer afford the payments, but is upside down and will probably be evicted soon. Oh, that Valerie was a hot chick. I was hot on her tail but only managed to take her out on one non-date that didn't lead anywhere. A friend of mine had better luck, but then an ex boyfriend of Valerie's smashed bottles on his fence and when he came outside he got beaten up.

I remember there were garage bands and you could just hang around and listen to them, and that is how you learned to play music. Another guy's older brother had a band that was pretty good. I remember he gave me a business card, and it looked really cool. Business cards were a big part of garage bands. That, and thinking of a cool name. They had a fabulous name, The Malcheck Plebbies, and it was lifted off of the liner notes of a Rolling Stones album that had been written by their manager Andrew Loog Oldham, and he in turn had lifted it from Anthony Burgess in Clockwork Orange. The book was later made into a film by Stanley Kubrick, and in the book and film the teenagers of the future spoke in a strange argot that mixed Russian, Slang, and Cockney Rhyming Slang into a mixture called Nadsat. According to the glossary, Malchick was the word for a male, and its source was Russian. Andrew Loog Oldham owned the rights to Clockwork Orange and wanted to make the film with Jagger as the story's protagonist, Alex. He never got around to making the film, but just as well, because it is doubtful that he could have topped what Kubrick did. He did, however, use a bit of the slang for the liner notes, mixing it up even more, and coining a great band name that my friend's brother was astute enough to lift.

Lester Bangs was kind of a mentor to Cameron Crowe, and is played by Phillip Seymour Hoffman in the film, loosely autobiographical for Cameron, Almost Famous. Though not as good a performance as his portrayal of Truman Capote, which garnered him an Oscar, it was a pretty decent portrait of the man, but I see him as darker, in both hair and persona. He reminds me a little of my old friend Rosenblatt who I have no doubt is dead or in prison by now.

One of the themes that run throughout this book is Bangs' tendency to champion the worst noise he can. It seems like he wants to describe it as some magnificent experience that will cause you and I, John Q. Public, to rush out and buy the record that then turns out to be the worst garbage imaginable. Like, Metal Machine Music by Lou Reed. But also L.A. Blues by Iggy and the Stooges, or Sister Ray by the Velvet Underground, or even the electric music by Miles Davis such as Agharta. Or how about Berlin by Lou Reed? The most depressing music ever made, save perhaps for Gloomy Sunday by Billie Holiday that was documented to have inspired several suicides.

There are also amusing pieces that talk about The Troggs, touring with The Clash, being asked by Van Morrison to help him write lyrics (a total fantasy) a rumination about the true nature of Rod Stewart's relationship with Maggie May, or even what must be either a clever parody of the idol worship surrounding Elvis, a cannibalistic necrophilia fantasy about Elvis, or perhaps a tribute to the man from Memphis, I'm not sure even Bangs knows. He also seems to have quite a fixation on Lou Reed, not only for his work with The Velvet Underground, Metal Machine Music, and Berlin, but also for his solo work, and as just someone that he can interview/worship/fight/ravage/disparage/agree/disagree/love/hate/dismiss.

One of the pieces I thought shed the most light on Lester, and not in a good way, was one in which he got a hold of an alto saxophone and used it to torture his landlady. It was sadly funny, but really, the alto saxophone is a wonderful instrument, but not the way Bangs used it. You might be able to get by in punk rock with three chords and the truth, but alto saxophones, trumpets, trombones, and their ilk, require dedication. I could almost muster up some sympathy when he was beaten by the police and thrown in jail, and of course, evicted. He got his comeuppance.

Still, he was quite a writer and a trailblazer for rock critics, and even for me, if I may be so bold, an Amazon reviewer and blogger who wonders just how far you can take this social networking and blogging thing.

"Writing about music, that's like dancing about architecture."
~Elvis Costello

Psychotic Reaction
Almost Famous
Metal Machine Music
Wild Thing
Berlin
Fun House
The Clash (U.K. Version)
Agharta
The Velvet Underground & Nico
Main Lines, Blood Feasts, and Bad Taste: A Lester Bangs Reader

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reviews: page 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

Vintage presents the paperback edition of the wild and brilliant writings of Lester Bangs--the most outrageous and popular rock critic of the 1970s--edited and with an introduction by the reigning dean of rack critics, Greil Marcus. Advertising in Rolling Stone and other major publications.

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