So how bad can I write…? Pretty damn lousy when I put my mind to it.
Here is some of the worst stuff in a year:
From a post on Thin Lizzy so crappy I actually apologized for it: “The “boys” have been out of town for the winter and Lynott is speaking to a girl, a mutual friend, Lynott has run into the Quality Street gang and they want to know where she is, the two remember the boys previous hijinx.” That’s about “The Boys Are back In Town”… And it gets worse.
The Spoon live at Radio City was the third really late night in a row and I was exhausted. Boy, it was so crappy a reader commented: “That was an awful review”. Kinda hard to deny. But the night I got blind drunk and caught Julian casablancas at Terminal 5 was much worse for at least one good reason: I spent most of concert throwing up in the rest room.
Some of my mistakes are so boneheaded I wonder what the hell I’m bothering writing at all for (I know, I know: so do you). Among my low lights? Claiming Sharon Jones album is multitracked when it was recorded on analogue, claiming Leonoard Cohen was a tenor when he’s a bass, and offending the leader of Titus Andronicus’ girlfriend.
But not all my fuck ups are real fuck ups. Apparently the closest I can get to edit is a song by Regina Spektor and just about everything I write is first draft so their are errors aplenty.
My apologies to all but especially that poor reader of my Spoon piece…