Robyn’s Memoir
I’m the biggest Robyn Hitchcock fan I know. By a long shot. There were multiple times during my Midwest years where he would come to Chicago play 3 or 4 shows in a weekend, and I would go to every one. I would drag along friends who maybe knew he was, and when I couldn’t cajole anyone to accompany me, I gladly went alone. (TBH, I kind of enjoy going to shows alone; no one tries to talk to me while the band is on, or if they do, I can ignore them without social consequences.)
Despite having seen RH many, many times—perhaps Elf Power is the only band I’ve seen more times, and I lived in the same town as them1—I’ve never met him. In fact, I’ve avoided interpersonal interactions. He’s got a rep for being prickly, and I’ve a fanboy’s obsession. Not a good mix. But I am fascinated by the man himself and how he got to be the kind of guy who begins his career with two genre-launching albums with the Soft Boys, and 45 years later is still producing equally compelling work—and has nonstop the whole time. So when his memoir was announced, I was all in:
And I ordered an autographed copy!
Is this the best memoir ever written? I dunno as I’ve only read 2 or 3 such books, not being a big fan of the genre. I have to be deeply invested in the work of the person writing the memoir—otherwise, I don’t care about someone’s childhood. (Incidentally one of the few other memoirs I have read and enjoyed is David Milch’s.) Robyn takes a novel and formally fecund approach for his musingsm and it’s not surprising, given the structurally adventurous, yet engaging nature of his musical output, that his book would also pursue an unusual form/content dyad. [con’td beyond the paywall!]
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