Blow. Powder. Snow. Nose candy. Rock. Whatever you may call it, cocaine is a hell of a drug. And whether you snort it or smoke it (or, in the case of Jerry Stahl’s “Twilight of the Stooges,” shoot it up your anus with a straw), it can make anybody shake and grind their teeth, desperate for the next hit.

Akashic Books, known for the Noir series, are now prescribing the Drug Chronicles. The Cocaine Chronicles is a collection of short stories about those who do, those who deal, and those who are victimized by cocaine. What’s great about each of these 17 stories is that they are not sugar-coated — each one is raw, gritty, and, at times, disturbing.

The book is divided up into four sections: “Touched by Death,” “Fiending,” “The Corruption,” and “Gangsters & Monsters.” The book starts off with a bang in Lee Child’s “Ten Keys,” a story about a drug trader contemplating running off with a million dollars of drug money and ten keys of cocaine, resulting in his unexpected assassination. Another story I thoroughly enjoyed was “The Screenwriter” by James Brown, detailing a man’s painful progress in a rehabilitation center, as he endures the sweats and shakes of withdrawal and the failed reconciliation with his ex-wife.

Nino Revoyr’s “Golden Pacific” is a heartbreaking tale about a mother and daughter who get suckered into the dangerous world of prostitution and cocaine. The book ends on a more humorous note with co-editor Gary Phillips’ adrenaline-fueled “Disco Zombies” (the title says it all).

As someone who has never dared to go anywhere near coke, I found these stories only reinforced my fear. I’d prefer not to relate to any of the dark, deranged characters I’ve been introduced to.

Akashic Books, 300 pages, trade paperback, $15.95

It’s scary how transformative drugs can be. Don’t believe me? Sit down and read at least one story from The Speed Chronicles. You will see how an innocent human being can transform into a vicious monster, fiending for its next high.

Brought to you by Akashic Books, the same people that gave us the Noir series, comes the Drug Chronicles. In this edition covering speed, 14 writers take us into a world of madness, machination, methodology, and “medicine.” I was hooked at the very beginning with Joseph Mattson’s introduction where he describes methamphetamine addiction as a poetic self-destruction. Continuing on, you have great stories like “War Cry” by Sherman Alexie, a tale of a meth addicted Indian living on a reservation. Also by Joseph Mattson, “Amp is the First Word in Amphetamine” is a sadistic account of what happens when drugs and religion get mixed.

Perhaps the most notable piece in this book is James Franco’s “Addiction.”  Yes, that’s right. The Academy-Award nominated actor took segments of the Twilight script and renamed it “Chrystal Meth,” thus transforming vampires into tweakers. My personal favorite, however, is Jess Walter’s “Wheelbarrow Kings,” a hilarious story about two broke and hungry tweakers transporting an old television to a pawn shop.

Although this book is filled with great hits, it has a few misses as well — especially “Tips n’ Things by Elayne” by Beth Lisick, which has no mention of drugs whatsoever, even if you read in between the lines. I have no idea how this got sneaked into the book.

Overall, an engrossing read, as I suspect all books in the series will be. So far, I’ve read the Cocaine and The Speed Chronicles, and I would love to expand my collection with the upcoming Marijuana, Heroin, and Coffee Chronicles.

Those akin to internet poetry and Muumuu House have already bought Selected Unpublished Blog Posts of a Mexican Panda Express Employee by Megan Boyle or stole it from a friend. They have already written reviews for magazines or internet sites, or put them straight onto their blogs in hopes for comments and internet street cred. It is for this reason that Selected Unpublished Blog Posts of a Mexican Panda Express Employee was the best-selling small press distributed book in November when it came out. This is not to say that it is a perfect book, or even among the best books of the year. However, it is probably one of the few books that will spark extreme and mixed reactions from readers across the board. People either love it, hate it, don’t know how to feel about it, or don’t understand it all together.

The reason for these mixed reviews is because the book rides between a printed version of a blog and a valiant attempt at prose-poetry. The book is composed of many entries that are, for the most part, dated by Boyle stretching from January 2, 2009 to July 2, 2010 with some titled entries sprinkled here and there. The writing itself is sparse, and extremely similar to the style of Tao Lin.

The journal format gives the reader a voyeuristic view of Boyle’s life. We get to see her thoughts and feelings, and sometimes are afforded glimpses of her actual life. Most of the entries are stream of consciousness thoughts that go deep into her imagination dealing with cats or the insecurities about weight, food, and loneliness. Most of these are random, at times boring, and easily forgettable and interchangeable with each other, where it feels that Boyle is just rambling her thoughts as a list in sentences that start with “I want” over and over. However, sometimes she hits the nail right on the head and conjures up a Kafka-esque scenario, even if only for one sentence, such as, “i want to delete everything from someone’s computer except a giant microsoft paint picture of a dick that takes forever to load” — and you can’t help but laugh.

These shorter, nonsequitur entries (composed of even shorter non-sequitur sentences) are hit or miss as they read exactly as if they are taken from an unedited blog with no consideration to the reader. This won’t feel like poetry to anyone who isn’t familiar with the alt-lit internet circle of Muumuu House; however, the content is so candid and raw that you decide to keep on reading.

The titled entries (as well as a few dated ones) that go for more than a few lines or pages are extremely strong pieces of prose. It is in these entries that the reader is able to actually connect to Boyle on a human level. This is also where her bleak style of writing works best; for example, when she starts writing about how she’s been barfing up her food and starts to vomit blood and has to go to the hospital, the reader is left with extremely graphic images of a young girl in her early 20s struggling to find herself in life. It is jarring and emotionally moving.

These entries based on her personal experience work better because the reader actually has something to relate to and see in their imagination, compared to imagining what Boyle’s imagination might look like. It is in these entries that we get connection from one to another in the book. The list “everyone i’ve had sex with” is introspective and laced with humor. Then the last entry in the list “embarrassing moments” is an email from her father saying he’s read “everyone i’ve had sex with,” and the reader actually feels like they were taken on a journey though the book.

This book is not for everyone, but is still an interesting read and look into someone’s life. No matter how you feel about Megan Boyle and her contemporaries, people simply don’t write (and for the most part don’t read) books like War & Peace anymore. Does this mean Boyle’s short, quirky book is genius? No, but it means that we shouldn’t discount authors whose subject matter and writing style is indicative of their times. For all we know these writers are years ahead of the curve, or not. For right now, for the most part, they are pretty fun to read.

Mushrooms, Myth & Mithras: The Drug Cult That Civilized Europe is a heavy book for heavy thinkers. The audience for this book is not necessarily the type of people who follow Phish –though it doesn’t exclude them — but people who have achieved a certain level of academic success and merit. Mushrooms, Myth & Mithras is an extremely well-constructed academic argument proving that it is impossible to deny the connection between the use of entheogenic substances and religious practice for generations across countries and cultures. The evidence is extremely well documented in art, literature (myths and oral storytelling), and architecture. Over time, all these forms of evidence become blended into cross-cultural metaphors and ideas that show the same information coming from multiple cultures. Mithraism and its influence spread farther than its actual infrastructure.

Carl Ruck received his Ph.D from Harvard, though as stated in a recent interview about the book, some academic institutions have tried to discount him as nonacademic and something closer to the guy selling Grateful Dead t-shirts out of his van. Mushrooms, Myth & Mithras, however, will be something that the academic society can not look past.

The book takes a vast, far-reaching look through history, starting before the onset of Christianity. The first two segments of the book, the prelude and the preface, establish the point of view the reader needs to understand the rest of the book. The prelude discusses the concept of the “first supper” that many religions share in common, where a member eats a special meal and is then put into a state of mind where he or she becomes “one with god.” It further argues that entheogenic shamanism was a great influence on Greek philosophers. The preface informs the reader about how various eastern religious ideas and Vedic scripts, stories, and practices had a direct influence on Roman religions and how the Romans took influence these eastern ideas as they crossed paths throughout history. It also explains how Mithraism initiated its members through a dinner where they “experienced the entire pattern of the universe” in a time when Mithraism was a direct competitor of Christianity.

Once we’re equipped with the right tools, the first chapter starts our trip through history. The reader is exposed to so much information on each page that the book is far more dense than appears. The authors show us that words we use daily have a direct connection to the people who ate these chemical substances. For instance, as stated in an interview, the words “medicine” and “meditation” come from the Latin word “med” which means middle, like between heaven and earth, or heaven and hell, the sky and the ground, life and death. Images like the serpents wrapped around a staff with angel wings seen on many hospitals came from ceremonies of the Mithras. These little pieces of information are bountiful in this book and create a mosaic of facts and ideas that solidify the argument.

The other argument underlying in the book concerns the Christians stealing stories and practices from the Mithras. One wouldn’t think that ancient people putting the letter or symbol “X” on their bread before baking had any significance to these ancient cults. However, people did this because they believed bread to be holy, and a metaphor for the entire universe, and that the “X”(interchangeable with the cross depending on which way you view it) was symbolic of the axis of the entire universe. After learning that, one must wonder the significance of Christ being killed on a cross, or ponder that perhaps “X-mas” may have more meaning than originally thought.

The majority of the book walks through history in depth, from shortly before 0 BC to 1000 AD, and then quickly shoves 1000 AD to the present day into a few chapters. It is during the last portion that most readers will find things that appeal to them about the connections Mithraism has to Freemasons, how Napoleon Bonaparte insisted his initiation dinner to the Freemasons was done in the Pyramids of Giza, and even goes to show connections to our founding fathers. It is not without mention that Ruck is releasing another book in 2013 dealing on this topic focusing on the middle ages to further his academic argument.

This book is not something you want to read with your friends while smoking pot in your parents’ basement — that type of book can be found at Urban Outfitters. Mushrooms, Myth & Mithras is a real academic effort published by City Lights, and though it isn’t the easiest book to read, it is not impossible for someone in high school. There are as many as 50 footnotes each chapter, and while some of these footnotes are simply a bibliographical references to other texts, others are nearly page-long descriptions and notes to help shape the context for the reader. Fans of David Foster Wallace will have proper training in actually keeping up with the footnotes and actual text at the same time. What I’m trying to say is that you’ll need two bookmarks if you want to read this book seriously as you’ll be flipping back and forth a few times each page.

Akashic Books, 275 pages, hardcover, $15.00

Set against the fast-paced backdrop of the publishing world, Boundaries is the story of a Caribbean immigrant struggling to reconcile the culture of her past with her new home in New York City.

The story opens after Anna has spent a month with her parents in the Caribbean. During this time she comes to realize that both of her worlds, past and present, are changing. With the revelation of her mother’s cancer, her parents come to New York for treatment. It is here that Anna’s struggle to reconcile her two worlds begins. In preparation for their arrival, she suddenly finds herself trying to hide parts of her new life from her traditional past.

As Anna learns the truth behind her parents’ relationships, she comes to understand better understand her mother. Simultaneously, she falls in love, fights for her job, and struggles for her independence and for the relationships that matter most in her life. The journey is gradual, but is ultimately one that leaves her standing on solid ground.

Boundaries is both enlightening and relatable. Even if you are not an immigrant, and even if your family does not hold steadfast to traditional values, Anna’s journey for self-discovery is one anyone can relate to. Nunez paints a portrait of the complexities of moving forward while not forgetting the past, and eloquently shares the complexities of breaking away from your family.

Akashic Books, 128 pages, hardcover $23.95

What happens when REM front man Michael Stipe and beloved alt-rock chick Patti Smith collide? You get a photo book by Stipe entitled Two Times Intro: On the Road with Patti Smith. Stipe compiled this collection of photos from Smith’s 1995 tour, and it is wonderful.

In Two Times Intro, Stipe shares emotions, thoughts, and memories with his at times blurry and other times unabashedly sharp imagery. The collection documents two weeks in 1995 which Smith spent touring; her creative process, preparation to take stage, and personal moments of offstage happiness all sit alongside one another. Stipe combines his photos with interview excerpts and quotes from both friends and Smith herself to add depth to the work.

A photo collection of a band is by no means a new concept, but Stipe’s personal friendship lends something greater to the overall vision of this book. It isn’t simply a set of snapshots of performances, but rather a collection of rare moments. The personal nature of the anthology makes it all the more enticing and enjoyable. Smith, in all her glory and awe-inspiring talent, is portrayed in the truest light.

City Lights, 232 pages, paperback, $15.95

I remember hearing Ry Cooder’s 2005 album Chavez Ravine after my old man burned me a copy of it and said I should check it out, especially after moving to southern California. The concept album tells the story of the Chicano community located just outside of downtown Los Angeles and the ultimate displacement of the residents of Chavez Ravine in order to develop new housing. The housing development plans fell through and the land was given to Walter O’Malley, the owner of the Brooklyn Dodgers, as part of an agreement to bring the Dodgers to LA. That forgotten history was brought to life with Cooder’s concept album — full of Chicano flavor built around Cooder’s guitar work, and Americana roots folk storytelling featuring many larger-than-life characters who were actually involved in the situation at Chavez Ravine.

In many ways, Los Angeles Stories is an extension of the story of Chavez Ravine and the people who inhabited the community. At the very least, it serves as an annex to the Chavez Ravine incident. This is Cooder’s first written work, a collection of short stories he penned over time, originally created for his own enjoyment. After a discussion with Bob Dylan regarding an upcoming tour Ry was heading out on, Cooder was convinced by Dylan to have a small run of these stories printed up to sell at each show. The tour fell through and somehow a copy of these stories — which were thrown together in a hurry — ended up in the hands of City Lights Books in San Francisco.

“I got an email saying, ‘We’d like to put out an edition of this,’ and I said that’s an honor for me – that’s terrific! Really? You sure?” said Cooder in a recent interview conducted on Los Angeles radio station KPCC 89.3 FM. “I’m not a novelist or writer in that sense. It’s just me fooling around, like with music in the same way. Like writing a song.”

The words that occupy the 232 pages of this book bring to life a time long gone. Los Angeles today is a busy and crowded metropolitan mecca, a true concrete jungle where millions of people work, live, and play among the smog-filled air and the bumper-to-bumper traffic. Los Angeles Stories gives us eight short stories set between the 1940s and late 1950s. During this time, LA was looked upon as a place for opportunity for those outside of the West Coast — A destination for folks back east. If it was a job working for Douglas Aircraft (a booming business with the progression of aviation technology) or getting into the music business you sought, LA was the place to be.

On the flip-side, Los Angeles also had a seedy side (and still does, if you care to look for it). Shady characters including schemers, lowlifes, junkies, and con-artists live among the dreamers, especially during the time period featured in Los Angeles Stories.

While some of the stories focus on those who end up in LA, Cooder’s focus in this book is mainly about those who have called LA home for most of their lives. The way Cooder describes the neighborhoods in LA — the homes and the working class — really paints a picture that doesn’t just give you an idea of what it was like; rather, he brings these images to life, especially if you live in or visit LA today. And if anyone can give accurate descriptions of what it was like in those days in Los Angeles, Cooder can since he grew up in these neighborhoods. I found myself saying “Been there!” many times while reading this book, as places like Pershing Square and Philippe’s still stand to this day.

I believe it was Stephen King who once said something like, “I don’t write about extraordinary people, I write about ordinary people in extraordinary situations.” That’s the formula Ry Cooder has used in this book. Most of the stories feature ordinary people — including quite a few musicians — who find themselves in very peculiar situations.

One line we keep hearing throughout this book is police officers telling characters, “Don’t leave town,” as one character after another gets caught up in some incriminating situations. The stories are full of suspense and read a lot like detective novels and pulp magazines (fitting for the era these stories take place). Another amusing thing about the stories is Cooder’s ability to occasionally cross characters from one story into another, giving the reader a feeling that while LA is a big place, it can also be a place where people get around. The cover also sets the stage for the stories found in this book. It features a classic California bungalow with a giant palm tree growing right through the roof, colored in an old film grain color, preparing the reader for a ride back in time.

Los Angeles Stories really captures the feel of LA in the ’40s and ’50s, or at least what I assume it was like. The stories, with a cast of larger than life characters and interesting plot twists, left me turning each page with wonder and interest in what was going to happen next. In the span of 232 pages, I feel like I’ve been to a museum or maybe jumped back in time to a place where I had no ability to be or exist in.

Ry Cooder has earned a reputation of being a wonderful musician with the ability to tell stories with his music. Now, Cooder has taken his storytelling to written form and will likely impress the reading community with his brand of true life-inspired tales of a time long gone. I hope this first time effort by Mr. Cooder won’t be his last. A truly excellent read.

Akashic Books, 252 pages, trade paperback, $15.95

Over the years, Akashic Books has built a reputation as a powerhouse independent publisher of gritty noir fiction. Their rapidly expanding list includes an award-winning series of city-centric noir anthologies (starting with 2004’s Brooklyn Noir), and a growing stable of writers including Arthur Nersesian, Joe Meno, Robert Arellano, and others.  Any book with the Akashic stamp comes with an almost unspoken guarantee that no matter the plot, it will be a great read told in a fresh and original voice that will keep you furiously turning pages from start to finish.  Nathan Larson’s debut novel, The Dewey Decimal System, is no exception.

Larson, best known as an award-winning film music composer and as the guitarist for prog-punk outfit Shudder To Think, has created one of my favorite literary characters in recent memory. The anonymous narrator known as Dewey Decimal — for his residence in the abandoned main branch of the New York Public Library — is an immediately likable (though deeply flawed) character.  Even he is aware of this, as he relates all that he knows of his identity to readers on the first page:

“I can’t relate in exact detail what led me here, but this much I can tell you:  I am a man of mixed ethnicity, from the borough of the Bronx.  I freelance from time to time for the government of the City of New York.  Or at least what’s left of it.”

We learn that Dewey was once a soldier in a “landscape without features” in a war he describes as “very half-assed.  Hard to take seriously,” and that he might have a wife and children, but can’t remember too clearly.  He lives his life according to “The System” — part moral code, part rules for living — involving not making right turns before 11 am, taking lettered trains before numbered trains on the subway, regularly lathering his hands in hand sanitizer, and taking unidentified pills for his (possibly PTSD-related) anxiety and OCD.

While his passion project is acting as a caretaker for the library, preserving and reorganizing its millions of books — hence his nickname — Dewey’s “freelance” work is as a hit-man for the local government — specifically, the city’s District Attorney.  The DA keeps Decimal supplied with his pills, his hand sanitizer, and VIP access past security checkpoints and other hassles in a locked down and militarized New York, still reeling from a series of Valentine’s Day terrorist attacks.

The DA summons Decimal to his office via pager, and hands him his latest assignment:  to take care of Yakiv Shapsko, the owner of a local construction company.  What sounds like an open and shut assignment goes south when, after a failed encounter with the man, Dewey visits Shapsko’s home address and encounters Shapsko’s estranged wife, Iveta.  In a brief lapse of his guard, Dewey gets shot by Iveta who then escapes with her young son.  After briefly recuperating in the hospital, Dewey is picked up by Shapsko’s men on the way back home to the library, and brought to Shapsko for a meeting.  Shapsko doesn’t know what Dewey wants, or who he works for, but he offers to pay him double whatever he’s being paid currently in exchange for offing Shapsko’s estranged wife Iveta.

Forced to choose between accepting the assignment, or being killed, Dewey accepts the assignment, noting “Cause what else do you say?”  This double deal goes from bad to worse for Dewey, when he returns home and is forced to confront a group of men who have infiltrated the library also looking for Iveta Shapsko.

Dewey quickly finds himself in the middle of a power struggle between rival Eastern European gangs, with the DA breathing down his neck, and the FBI soon in hot pursuit.  To survive, Dewey must use all his wits, and his deadly skills to play each side against the other, while struggling with his own personal demons.  With each side out to get him, keeping one step ahead of them all means finding Iveta, the one person who can tell Dewey just what he’s caught up in.

Where The Dewey Decimal System succeeds, is with its charismatic narrator.  Dewey handles the most difficult situations with humor and sarcasm, even when forced to shoot his way out of tight spots.  He understands he’s being used in a power struggle, and he’s willing to accept that so long as he doesn’t violate his own moral code.  The power of his voice throughout the book makes even the generic Eastern European gangs and cliché corrupt government officials he struggles with believable.

If there’s anything disappointing about The Dewey Decimal System, it’s that Dewey’s laundry list of quirks, (his mystery identity, the source of his OCD, his System), don’t ever get resolved.  What we’re left with is a Jason Bourne-type character, a stone cold killer who understands his lethal skills, but struggles with questions of his identity, without the payoff of the character ever discovering and coming to terms with who he really is.  The book jacket description notes that this is Larson’s first book in a series featuring Dewey, and with so many loose ends left unexplained, I hope that we will see the character develop more in future installments.

As it stands, The Dewey Decimal System is a fun read from start to finish that leaves the reader wanting more.  We can only hope it won’t be long before Larson answers that call.

SUNY Press, 216 pages, hardcover, $21.95

Hundreds of books every year feature New York as either their subject or their setting, but it is usually the boroughs of Manhattan or Brooklyn who get all the literary love.  The list of books featuring the borough of Queens is miniscule by comparison.  John Guare’s play The House of Blue Leaves (1966, 1994), M. Dylan Raskin’s memoir Little New York Bastard (2003), Akashic Books’ anthology Queens Noir (2008), and Matt Burgess’ Dogfight: A Love Story (2010) are among the best literary works to take Queens as their setting, but they don’t all necessarily paint the borough in the best light.

Enter editor Nicole Steinberg, on a mission to give Queens the respect it deserves.  The anthology she has lovingly assembled, Forgotten Borough: Writers Come to Terms with Queens, features a cadre of fine authors including Arthur Nersesian, Margarita Shalina, Ron Hogan, Mark Swartz, and others.  While it is difficult to distinguish the line between fiction and memoir in many of these pieces, the underlying respect — and even love — these writers express for Queens comes through in every sentence.

In “Ethelerie’s Blank Check,” Arthur Nersesian tells how an afternoon excursion with friends to Rockaway Beach turns into an adventure across Queens when the foursome find themselves stranded by the New York blackout of 2003.  With the wit and subtle humor for which Nersesian is known, he relates each episode of their adventure.  From sleeping on the beach and hitching a ride with a kindly stranger, to negotiating payment for a meal with a blank check and searching for a bus back to Manhattan, Nersesian offers readers not only a tale of urban adventure, but a snapshot of Queens from the perspective of a lifelong New Yorker.

Describing the seaside neighborhood of Rockaway and its evolution over time, the description of a single house brings the focus starkly to the present:  “His rundown house had a big official-looking sign taped to the door that read WARNING: Mold Contamination Detected.”  Negotiating a ride across the borough from the elderly man living in the house in exchange for a favor, the foursome learn a bit of Queens’s history when the landmark they took to be Martin Luther King Park turns out to be Rufus King Park.  This confusion not only teaches an interesting though little known tidbit of Queens history, it also creates a dramatic tension that carries through to the story’s conclusion.

Margarita Shalina’s “The Maspeth Holders” offers a similar treatment of Queens, relating two historic events in the borough’s evolving character.  The markers long denoting the boundary between Queens and Brooklyn, the Maspeth Holders — also known as the Brooklyn Union Gas Tanks — are two lumbering structures capturing the essence of the neighborhood in which the author grew up, and where she lived at the time of writing.  The demolition of these two structures in the summer of 2001 to make room for redevelopment marks a shift in the character of the borough, as neighborhoods made up predominantly of abandoned and decaying manufacturing facilities are flattened and replaced with new structures. As the author and her friend stand watching the holders come down, we get a sense that the transformation the character of the borough is going through is also a change in the author’s character as well.  That September, the collapse of two other prominent New York landmarks will change not only the author, but the entire character of the city of New York.

“The Sunnyside Shuffle” is a tale relating a history of Ron Hogan’s living arrangements with his wife, and the various trials they endured in their first apartment.  From so-so hot water, to a building-wide bedbug infestation, the tale Ron relates is one to which anyone who has rented an apartment for any length of time would be able to relate.  What makes Ron’s story special is his description of the neighborhood, and his attachment to it.

The short story “Accent Reduction” by Mark Swartz takes us to the seedier neighborhoods of Queens, where we learn that in the glitz and glitter of New York nightlife, danger lurks in unexpected places.  A pair of con-artist brothers is working to pay off debts owed to a local gambling kingpin when things go awry between them and the sexy bait they use to lure unsuspecting suckers into their swindles.

Forgotten Borough represents the strength of the literary community not just of Queens, but of all of New York.  It’s a great collection jam-packed with stories, essays, and poetry by an array of authors who all merit further attention.

Duke University Press, 368 pages, trade paperback, $24.95

Chuck Eddy is opinionated. At times he comes across as stubborn and uncompromising, but he is not afraid to tell you exactly how he feels and makes no apologies for it. He is and always has been refreshing in the harshest yet best kind of way.

Eddy is a prolific writer and an institution in the world of music criticism. While his taste in music has always been surprising, he has never failed to write reviews that are witty and well supported. Rock and Roll Always Forgets: A Quarter Century of Music Criticism is a collection of his reviews thoughts, opinions, and insights on the ever-changing world of music.

There is no genre and no band off limits. In this compilation of reviews, interviews, and columns, everything from the Beastie Boys to Nirvana to Coolio is covered. Reviews of Chumbawamba sit alongside essays about the Spice Girls and Gina G, and all are written with an impressive intensity. Eddy shows that music is not only something to be audibly enjoyed but something limitless intellectual possibilities, something that can grow organically from one genre to the next and shape future sounds.

The introductory narratives at the start of each chapter provide readers with a look into Eddy’s mind and give some wonderful context to the set of works to follow. The forward by Chuck Klosterman is also an added bonus for music fans. His equally charged passion for music and for the work Eddy does is articulately conveyed and serves as a great precursor to the rest of the book.

Chuck Eddy has created a stunning portfolio of sometimes gracious and impressed comments and brutally honest and painful criticisms. Rock And Roll Always Forgets is a wonderful collection of some of his most controversial and well constructed works.