Ken Emerson was my first rock critic hero, before Nelson, before Meltzer, before Christgau. Wrote about the Dead, about the Yardbirds, about the Stones, about Bowie, but also about one shots, nobodies, and ex-somebodies I’d never heard of. “Without the Zombies, rock would be no different, just poorer.” Emerson uncovered the artistry of entertainers and craftsmen who didn’t officially matter in the counterculture ’60s: pros in cubicles and scruffy kids imitating the previous big thing. So he brought me a world that was way more populated than I’d realized.