There’s something particularly marvelous in reading a book about an actual time and an actual art movement in which the female figures come naturally to the fore.
Sweeping violin, round, slow drums, little threads of plinky piano pile up on top of one another…
You don’t prioritize the male gaze in what’s supposed to be a feminist book. This shouldn’t even need to be said.
Plett creates a community of characters that is familiar but not codependent.
I have not tired of Automatic for the People in twenty-four years.
Inside each track I can live in the little world they make with those drum loops, samples, white noise guitar, and that voice.
You know how Emmy wished on the dragon scale, and that’s what started Dragon Tales?
Consider me, then, officially, publicly out as a Star Wars virgin.