Myers fantasy work follows the exploits of his alter-ego, the everyman music fan Adam Coil. Did you ever want to know who the idiot is that yelled “Freebird” into each pause at concerts you attended? It was Adam. In The Boy Who Cried Freebird, Adam transcends time, going from a future age dominated by technical wizardry back to the '60s, riding on the back of Hell’s Angels founder Sonny Barger’s hog, and losing his virtue to hippie chick ‘Cinnamon Girl,' all while waiting to attend a Grateful Dead concert at the infamous Fillmore West. Its stories like these that make me believe Myers partook in some of George Jefferson’s homemade acid at one time.
Nevertheless, The Boy Who Cried Freebird is a delightful hodgepodge. Myers ponders and dissects the dependency cycle of all music fans while elucidating the reader on the minutiae of lives on the edge of stardom and those well past their prime. It is a brilliant look inside the vast underworld that belies all of us who have seen the needle and the damage done by an art that consumes us as we consume it. Meyers may be a fool for rock music, but his writing is certainly divine.
Article comments