Throughout his genre-defying career as one of the most innovative musicians of our time, iconoclastic guitar player Marc Ribot has consistently defied expectation at every turn. Here, in his first collection of writing, we see that same uncompromising sensibility at work as he playfully interrogates our assumptions about music, life, and death. Through essays, short stories, and the occasional unfilmable film mistreatment that showcase the sheer range of his voice, Unstrung captures an artist whose versatility on the page rivals his dexterity onstage.
In the first section of the book, Lies and Distortion, Ribot turns his attention to his instrument--my relation to the guitar is one of struggle; I'm constantly forcing it to be something else--and reflects on his influences (and friends) like Robert Quine (the Voidoids) and producer Hal Willner (Saturday Night Live), while delivering an impassioned plea on behalf of artists' rights. Elsewhere, we glimpse fragments of Ribot's life as a traveling musician--he captures both the monotony of touring as well as small moments of beauty and despair on the road. In the heart of the collection, Sorry, We're Experiencing Technical Difficulties, Ribot offers wickedly humorous short stories that synthesize the best elements of the Russian absurdist tradition with the imaginative heft of George Saunders. Taken together, these stories and essays cement Ribot's position as one of the most dynamic and creative voices of our time.
Some people think this is supposed to be a memoir, which it is clearly not supposed to be that. It's a collection of short pieces, some of which let us into Marc's world, but many of which are not actually about Marc Ribot. An essay about a poetry anthology by Henry Grimes is stunning. A series of comedic "treatments" of unfilmable stories is a riot. A letter by a father to his daughter as he disassembles her childhood furniture is very moving. Fables in the fifth part of the book take the top of your head off and shake up the brain. There are political rants and some poetry (I resist), it feels like some pieces that have been spoken in some of his Ceramic Dog music (I'm not sure, but bells were ringing).
This is a brief book of short pieces that breezes by. Very entertaining and scattered, and a number of stories that I handed of to friends and family and said, "You gotta read this!"
I quit at the halfway point which I never do when I receive books free from the publisher. Honestly I suspect almost every person I know could put together a more interesting memoir. I respect Ribot's music; Rain Dogs is one of my favorite albums ever, in part because of his guitar work. He has blurbs from Elvis Costello, John Zorn, and others so clearly he has the respect of his peers. But. I just could not engage with a single anecdote. Also, as a writer Ribot makes a good guitarist. Sorry Marc and Akashic books!
Ribot first started making some serious noise on the music scene in the 1980s adding incredible sounds to records by the likes of Tom Waits and Elvis Costello as well as being an integral member of the downtown New York music scene playing with John Zorn, The Lounge Lizards and leading several bands of his own with wildly varying styles. This is his first book and it’s a mix of music writing and short fiction. Marc has a wicked smart sense of humor and isn’t shy to talk about his strong political leanings. And you can bet that he’ll crank it up to 11!
True to it subtitle, the rants and stories are fast and interesting. My son saw me reading it and now he wants to read it. I guess I did something right (honestly, all credit goes to his mom).
Marc Ribot is a treasure. But surely not for everyone. And I think a love of his improvised, abrasive style of music, his musical activism, is probably key to enjoying this little burst of anecdotes and essays. A few were beautiful, almost profound, others were funny or funny-ish. The group of surreal film-treatments struck me as a clever idea, but ultimately so obtuse and disjointed as to be pretentious or even annoying. But, again, he is improvising and burning, and by the end of the evening, you have experienced unique, atonal phrasings and jarring time signatures... and though it was touch and go at times and you almost put it down once or twice, you are glad you read it.
Although I'm a huge fan of Marc Ribot's music, this volume of his "Rants and Stories" is pretty forgettable, as most of the pieces are little more than amusing at best, and completely without interest at worst. The only really worthwhile pieces are Ribot's reminiscences of other musicians that he has known and respected, such as Frantz Casseus, Henry Grimes, and Derek Bailey. But outside of that handful of worthwhile entries, Unstrung has little to offer to anyone other than the most obsessive fan of Ribot's music.
I’ve very nearly didn’t finish this and it’s short length was really the only reason I persevered. The first section is passable, even good but there’s still an unpleasant underlying tone. I did like the pieces on Frantz Casseus, Robert Quine, Derek Bailey and Henry Grimes. From there it gets progressively worse. Part two is ok. The last half is pretentious garbage that I wish I’d never read.
I found some of Ribot's vignettes interesting and entertaining, but overall, I didn't know what he was talking about, or trying to convey. I couldn't connect.
I very much enjoyed the memoir of artistic development from Latin American roots to freer experimentation. The added on film treatments etc. feel incongruous and excessive.
This is not as much of a memoir as I expected. It's more of a collection of various essays and stories by a guy who was never famous for writing but is semifamous for his music and guitar playing.
That's not to say Ribot is not a good writer. He's pretty clever, and funny. And his politics are right on and it's clear he's had good values his whole life and tried to live by them. So that's interesting. But, I wanted more of a memoir, more of an autobiography, that covers more of his life arc, how he got started, how he got in with John Zorn, that sort of thing. There's a *little* of that, but not enough and there's no clear understanding of what the big "plot points" of his life were.
Ribot is a guitar player of uncanny depth and skill, and, as it happens the guy can write. This collection of articles & essays would be enjoyable even if I had never heard him play. That's just the way his mind works. And he reports from the front lines of the music biz, sharing the pitfalls and oddity of the things that happen to you as a professional musician as well as whatever else he happens to be thinking about. So do yourself a favor and read this book and then go check out his music and your welcome.
a collection of essays and whatnot by Ribot, starts out very strong with some meditations on noise guitar and recollections of his mentor Frantz Casseus (who I hadn't heard of, what a fantastic musician!) but then quickly drops off with some very mediocre and soon-to-be dated takes on copyright and anti-Trump. I might be coming back to this for selected nuggets, but I really don't have time for all the lukewarm/clunky pieces here.
Surprisingly hilarious. Certainly he touches somewhat on his life as a master of the guitarial arts but indirectly, quite Mingusesque. About half of it are comedic essays and ideas that are as unique and unforgettable as his piquant guitar tone. I’m not sure that definition of piquant is the right word for it, but the word sounds right so it works in the same way this book works.
I'm not a guitarist (nor a musician of any kind), but Ribot got me as close as possible as I will likely ever get to the experience playing guitar. He also writes skillfully about New York, a city I have not yet visited. AND he turns out to be deft at writing short stories.
I recommend this book to everybody. Guitarists--professional, amateur, and aspiring--will enjoy it immensely.
A non-memoir by one of the world’s most interesting guitarists. Full of observations, flights of imaginative storytelling, un-filmable movie treatments, beautiful eulogies, and personal anecdotes, it’s a book for fans of Ribot, but also of obscure, intelligent and funny writing. I’ve been a huge fan of his music for years. Turns out he’s no slouch as a writer too!
The first two-thirds of this book are autobiographical and capture interesting moments in Ribot's career and life in blog-post length essays. It would have worked as a more conventional memoir, but that's his call to make. However, the last third of the book involves treatments for surreal unfilmed movies and unwritten stories, which was a pretty hard slog.
If you love Marc Ribot's music -- and I do -- you will probably like this book. It's put together to be sipped at -- which I did.
Ribot is not a literary genius, and it shows. The writing is fun, but it seems to me it gets a little too close to trying to be what it is not. Easy for me to say.
Would be a 5-star collection, were it not for a couple of lesser pieces (in the second part of the book) that make the book feel more disjointed. And no, it's not a memoir and shouldn't be approached as such.
The free-ramblings of guitarist Marc Ribot. For me, the most entertaining stuff was his stories from real life, some couched in literary terms; some of the pieces at the end seemed forced and rather tedious.
Sections to re-read after/while playing the records they cover:
p30-38 Ribot plays Casseus p52 anything by Ruins p54-56 Derek Bailey: Ballads p60-65 Susana Baca: Eco de Sombras p71-75 Live at the Village Vanguard with Henry Grimes p76-79 Songs of Resistance
Some great fragments of memoir and appreciations of people like Hal Willner. A bunch of odd, not so great fables. He has quite a few great sentences and paragraphs that make me think he's a very good writer, but this is not a great book. Still I don't regret reading it.
While Part One is good, the rest of the book is more or less inessential. There are a few laughs in Part Three and Part Four but the vibe of Parts Two, Three, and Four is that they're overall pretty forgettable. Bonus points to Ribot for including a reference to the famous "moth joke."
This book is all over the place, which isn’t a bad thing. I bought it expecting music essays, but I actually enjoyed the weirdo fiction more, especially the “Tech Failure” section.