BC: Many of the musicians you spotlight in The Boy Who Cried Freebird have only a tacit connection to the music of today. Do you hear from people who have trouble relating to some of these musicians and the genre's they played in? Are you specifically targeting the musical fanatics who're immersed in the history of rock and roll?
MM: For me, the subjects in the book are perennial artists or art-forms that will surely survive the test of time. In some ways you might consider the book a primer for the uninitiated, as well as a nostalgic look back for those who enjoyed these works on the first go-round.
BC: Now for some truth: did you ever shout out "Freebird" during a pause at a Keith Jarrett concert like Adam Coil, your alter-ego in the book?
MM: No, and I hope nobody does it to old Keith J in the future. This piece of fantasy seems so very believable to some people that it has been repeated as fact. In the old days Jarrett was known for being extraordinarily fussy so he was the perfect foil to use in that particular rock & roll fable.
BC: Many of the artists you profile — Brian Eno, Terry Riley, Zappa, Lou Reed, and Albert Ayler — are all musical innovators. Have you always been attracted to edgier musical forms?
MM: One really has to develop a taste for left-field artists like Riley or Ayler, and I was one of those people who pursued their recording before I really understood their significance. Looking back at their entire careers helps to put things in proper perspective, illuminating their contributions and remembering how they have made a difference in modern music.
BC: I know you want me to say that The Boy Who Cried Freebird is funny, and yes folks, it's very funny. Anything else you'd like to say?
MM: Remember the subtitle phrase from Lester Bangs' classic book Psychotic Reaction and Carburetor Dung. That is, "Rock 'N' Roll as Literature and Literature as Rock 'N' Roll."
Nuff said.
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