Robert Palmer’s widow, Jo Beth Briton, has launched a web site, in memory of Robert Palmer. The thank you section in particular is well worth reading.

A couple weeks back, I was thrilled to receive my copy of the gigantic, gorgeously designed Creem anthology. Still haven’t read ANY of it, to be honest (that’s one thing about coffee table books that look great–they’re not especially conducive to delving in and spending time with; who wants to mess up all those lovely pages?), but a few perusals through the thing once the initial shock wore off and my excitement level dropped somewhat. For starters, as a few people mentioned in this ILM thread, the bulk of the book’s content is devoted to artist profiles, which, while certainly in the Creemspeak tradition, are probably the thing I was hoping to see the least of–certainly not as the bulk of the package. As “xhuxk” notes in that thread, it’s cool to see in there things like “Stars Cars” and “Backstage” and “Creem Dreem” reprints, but the book seems sadly lacking in record and book reviews (in fact, I don’t think there are any–I’d love to own a whole book of Creem record reviews, come to think of it). Also, the selection of writers and feature subjects just seems a little scattershot, occasionally making me wonder, “why is this here?” (Though, let’s be fair, no collection could satisfy everyone, and omissions are  both understandable and fully to be expected. That’s a tribute to the mag itself, the fact that a true “best of” could never be captured in a single anthology).

Anyway, I was (and am) still happy to own the thing, and there is some great stuff in there, but how much of it I’ll actually get around to reading… not a lot, I suspect. The mags themselves are always close by. (God forbid we should have a fire, the Creem stash will be the first detour on the way out the door–after my wife of course.)

Well, the story, as it turns out, is a lot more complicated.

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dead or alive, would you most like to see get his or her own anthology published?

Mary Katherine Aldin writes:

I was sent the link to your site by a fellow music writer who knew that Bob and I had been friends for the last 15 years of his life.

I’d been thinking about Bob a lot the past few days, as the anniversary of his death rolled around and yet another year went by without him. Nobody will ever know how lucky I was to have this incredibly special person as a friend. He had the most open ears of anyone I’ve ever known, and did his best to pry mine loose (without, I’m sorry to say, ever really succeeding). “What the HELL is that noise?” I’d ask as he played some foreign-sounding stuff in a language I didn’t recognize. “Oh, Mary Katherine, it’s pygmy rain chants,” he’d reply, evidently expecting me to react as if it was the Holy Grail, which maybe to him it was. I’m a four-four person, and he was way out there in the land of seven-nine where I knew I was never going to be able to follow. Fortunately, he spoke my language even though I couldn’t speak his, so we communicated in what was probably the musical equivalent of baby-talk to him, although he was always too kind to say so.

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The Music Press Report is hosting its first annual Music Press Awards, and you are encouraged to partake. These are the categories, click through the link to vote:

• Best Book
• Best Web Site
• Best Photograph
• Best Magazine
• Best Newspaper
• Best Feature
• Best Interview
• Best Review
• Music Writer of the Year
• Music Photographer of the Year 
• Favorite Album
• Favorite Artist
• Favorite Tour

Personally, I think a “worst of” might’ve been fun too (of course I’d say that, right?)… Nonetheless, this is a fun idea, even if I haven’t a clue what or who I would vote for other than anything and everything by “s woods” (hey, someone’s gotta represent).

Michael Kramer forwarded a great piece he wrote about a memorial for Robert Palmer (with Lenny Kaye, Patti Smith, et al.) that took place in New York City shortly after his death. Originally published in Addicted to Noise; available here as a PDF.

Since it’s Thanksgiving week, we thought we would ask a question that’s homespun if not heartwarming: What did your parents, or guardian(s) think when you got your first writing job? Did their attitude get any *better, or worse, over time?

*Being dead doesn’t count for it getting any better.

Photo of Robert Palmer by Cherie Nutting

Ten years ago today (November 20), the music critic Robert Palmer died at the age of 52 from complications due to liver disease.

Best known as the chief pop music critic for the New York Times (a gig he held down for more than a decade), Palmer achieved more in a relatively brief career as a critic than many will in a lifetime: author of several highly regarded books (including 1981’s Deep Blues, long considered one of the classic studies outlining the origins of rock & roll); screenwriter and music director of various music-based films; record producer and musician; ethnomusicologist and scholar.

Palmer’s first love was the blues, but his scope as a music critic was endless, as evidenced by the small sampling of available NYT articles way at the bottom of this feature.

Rockcritics.com asked several critics – colleagues and fans of Palmer – to share their thoughts about the man on this special anniversary. (Longtime readers of Palmer will be pleased to note that contributor Anthony DeCurtis is presently compiling a long overdue collection of Palmer’s writing.) If you would like to add some words about Palmer and what his work means to you, give us a shout – we would be happy to publish more tributes down the road.

Many thanks to all contributors: Stephen Davis, Anthony DeCurtis, Nelson George, Alan Light, Jon Pareles, Brad Tolinski, and Steven Ward.

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Bill Knight is the editor of Rick Johnson Reader: Tin Cans, Squeems and Thudpies, a hearty (250 page) collection of critical musings by the late, beloved Boy Wonder of Creem’s new-wave-and-beyond phase–the star writer from what was arguably the greatest era of the greatest music ‘zine ever. Having served as Johnson’s editor for many years at the Prairie SUN and SunRise (two Illinois alternative publications), Knight set out to put Johnson’s work between covers in 2006, after the writer’s untimely death in April of that year.

Most of the reviews in Tin Cans are pulled directly from those Illinois rags, and will thus be unfamiliar to most readers who know Johnson primarily through his work in Creem (though the voice itself, of course, will be very familiar; who else would refer to ELO as the “Ethiopian Lapdog Orchestra” or compare the sound of Focus–of “Hocus Pocus” fame–to “snails menstruating”?). And though the bulk of the book is taken up by “Reek”’s characteristically unhinged album reviews–bizarro and revelatory in approximately equal measure–there are separate sections devoted to Johnson’s writing on sports, video games, and TV.

I recently e-mailed Knight a bunch of questions about working with Johnson and about the how-to’s of putting out such a book.

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Scott: Can you discuss some of the highlights and/or more notable moments in your own career as a journalist, author and editor? Please bring us up to the present day.

Bill: I started writing for newspapers in high school, and resumed after a few years with an “underground paper” in college in the ‘70s, which evolved into SunRise magazine in ‘72, a (sometimes) monthly mix of music and counter-culture coverage. That publication is where Rick and I started working together.

SunRise folded (except for one Life magazine format ‘Reek’ and I did as a “duet” effort in 1976, featuring a memorable Lester Bangs feature on Linda Lovelace), and I worked for a chain of community weeklies for a year, then launched the Prairie SUN, a similar but more music-oriented and more stable weekly (backed by a big Midwest record retail chain) and immediately asked Rick to write and recruit a few reviewers.

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Through the decades, with some being much better than others, why do you continue to care and write about music, whether it be reviews, topics, or interviews?