Met God when I first got here. I asked him why. You know, 33 and all. All he said was “M.T.V.” He didn’t want me to experience it, whatever the fuck it is..
From the cloud of Lester Bangs
I will try to explain the reason why Lester Bangs appears in the olympus of my personal myths not only with my words but also with his. Leslie Conway Bangs, called “Lester” (1948–1982) is considered the most influential rock critic of all time.
Lester enters the empire of New Journalism in the gonzo subgenre (picaresque narratives stuffed with psychotropic substances), and within another subgenre of gonzo journalism, rock writing (which is not simply writing about rock).”
“Writing can be rock’n’roll” says Bangs. And he is right: “Rock ‘n’ roll is an attitude, it’s not a musical form of a strict sort. It’s a way of doing things, of approaching things“. A way that is a thousand light years away from the dividms, that does not contemplate barriers between the rock star and the audience but that instead has to do with being real, authentic, without filter, maybe saying things that you will then have to retract, rethinking yourself, but always saying exactly what at that moment runs through your brain. He writes rock, Lester, and does so with a rambling, hypnotic and charismatic prose, capturing you from the first word to the last.
“He’s not a VIP, Lester, he’s actually the perennial outsider, hostile to any door policy and bouncer. Rather than joining the ‘exclusive’ club he joins the excluded on the sidewalk, fraternizes with the rejected by the dress code.”
Says Anna Mioni, who translated the books of Lester Bangs in the italian version:
“His books are real literature and not just insider stuff. Those who read ‘serious’ literature often snubbed rock critics, but for Uncle Lester it’s worth making an exception. Damn it’s worth it. His books are an all-round fresco of America of those years, in pure beat prose, and accumulations of stylistic microcosms.”
Bangs wrote for Rolling Stone, Creem and many other music magazines during the golden age of rock.
He died in 1982, at 33 , for Valium and Darvon overdose. When he left, he was listening to the album “Dare” of Human League. Probably, Somebody didn’t want him to experience MTV.
