I do thoroughly agree with the previous reviewer on this one. This is a deeply thoughtful and moving book, full of intelligent insights into the life of a working musician, the inside machinery of the music industry, the place popular music occupies in our world, etc. It's certainly much more than an autobiography: though we are offered some memorable and deeply funny accounts of life in the road and in the studio with Yes and the "Mighty Crim" (his view of Fripp manages to be both considerate, balanced, ironic and outright hilarious, all at once), the strength of this volume lies in that it offers nothing less than a Poetics of music. Sounds pretentious, I know, but it's all done with subtlety, intelligence and a sense of humour which (believe me) very few writers, let alone literary critics, actually possess: his ideas on creativity have an urgency and immediacy about them which is both disarming and memorable. Bruford has though hard and long about music, its place in the world, and, more importantly, his own relationship with music in the course of time. And this is where the book really takes off, as it were: the sad and painful account of his increasing (and crippling) self-awareness at the drum stool, of the sense of mounting exhaustion which has clouded these last years of his working life, is beautifully told and infuses the final pages of this book with a pervading melancholy. There is no false humility here, but deep honesty and a disarming frankness. Actually, being somebody who grew listening to early Yes and King Crimson (up to "Three of a Perfect Pair), but who has been with Bruford all the way up to his most recent Earthwork offerings, I think this book is a beautiful, if a bit melancholy, way of rounding up a musical career notorious for its variety, adventurousness and creativity. This book is a must for anybody interested not only in music but in how the arts in general can make something happen out there.