Well, here it is the third day of March, which means summer in Australia is technically over. As I sit here in 30 degree heat looking at a cloudless, sparkling blue sky with just a mild, cooling breeze – that’s hard to credit.
Nevertheless, it’s as good a time as any to summarise my summer reading.
All in all, I devoured 13 books by and about rock musicians. All but two are about Australian musicians, and all but two were written by the artists themselves.
And, I have to say, they are all very readable. From the big, detailed cinerama biogs to the cryptic, poetic and enigmatic self portraits, they are all good – which surprised me. I thought there would be a dud. Or two. But no.
OK, some could do with a stronger edit, and some facts may be disputed, but these are recollections – let them rock.