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The book is half Smith's autobiography as a music lover, and half incisive ruminations on various aspects of music (cd vs. vinyl, should or shouldn't one shag with the stereo on, etc.). And it's all golden. Anyone who's been in a band will laugh his ass off; this is like observational comedy for musicians.
Yet there is a true heart to the tale, and Smith has a knack for finding the truly meaningful in such minor events as Damon Albarn singing Christmas carols with his mother, meeting Ni(c)k Kershaw, or lip synching in the garage with friends who just don't get it ("That's NOT how they do it.").
I've been rambling, but do yourself a favor and buy this book. If you've ever put a musician's photo on your wall, contemplated speaker stands, or lied about what the first record you bought was, you'll read this book over and over again. I have.
Re-reading the book while on holiday this year just reaffirmed to me how brilliant it is. Not just funny, but poignant in places and superbly observed all over.
Giles Smith is a big favourite of mine - his column on sport on TV in The Times (Monday, Thursday and Saturday) is essential reading, as are his columns in The Guardian (cars on Tuesday) and on TV in The Sunday Telegraph. Do yourself a favour and read Lost In Music followed by Midnight in the Garden of Evel Knievel. Both hugely uplifting.
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