Amazingly, however, it succeeds, becoming, via the rather funny and infectiously enthusiastic prose, a joy to spend a while in the company of.
Much like the entire book, in fact. It bounds with gusto from star-struck awe to genuine pathos, being especially poignant when dealing with George Harrison, a close friend of the author for much of his life, or ill-fated Beatles Roadie Mal Evans.
Volume One Of The Blacklisted Journalist is the kinda tome what a fella can dip into at any given point and find oneself hooked within a couple paragraphs.
Aronowitz provides a sense of intimacy in his writing, a sense that he's sitting you down next to a camp-fire someplace, smoking till the dawn and filling your skull with these tales of frenzy and calm, of debauched gatherings and contemplative conversations.
It tells a tale what a fella might conceivably puke themselves delirious at the thought of hearing again, and yet tells it with such enthusiasm that it seems like no one has ever yacked about these events ever even once.
You can read a whole heap of Aronowitz's tales and anecdotes via the monthly e-zine The Blacklisted Journalist, and if the appetite seems to have got all whetted all of a damn sudden, you could do worse than pick up these 600+ pages crafted by the "Godfather of rock journalism."
Good work, Blacklisted Journalist
The Duke resides at Mondo Irlando
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