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Let it Blurt: The Life and Times of Lester Bangs, America's Greatest Rock Critic
Let it Blurt is the raucous and righteous biography of Lester Bangs (1949-82)–the gonzo journalist, gutter poet, and romantic visionary of rock criticism. No writer on rock ‘n’ roll ever lived harder or wrote better–more passionately, more compellingly, more penetratingly. He lived the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle, guzzling booze and Romilar like water, matching its energy in prose that erupted from the pages of Rolling Stone, Creem, and The Village Voice. Bangs agitated in the seventies for sounds that were harsher, louder, more electric, and more alive, in the course of which he charted and defined the aesthetics of heavy metal and punk. He was treated as a peer by such brash visionaries as Lou Reed, Patti Smith, Richard Hell, Captain Beefheart, The Clash, Debbie Harry, and other luminaries.
Let it Blurt is a scrupulously researched account of Lester Bangs’s fascinating (if often tawdry and unappetizing) life story, as well as a window on rock criticism and rock culture in their most turbulent and creative years. It includes a never-before-published piece by Bangs, the hilarious "How to Be a Rock Critic," in which he reveals the secrets of his dubious, freeloading trade.
Let it Blurt is a scrupulously researched account of Lester Bangs’s fascinating (if often tawdry and unappetizing) life story, as well as a window on rock criticism and rock culture in their most turbulent and creative years. It includes a never-before-published piece by Bangs, the hilarious "How to Be a Rock Critic," in which he reveals the secrets of his dubious, freeloading trade.
354 pages, Paperback
First published April 1, 2000
54 people are currently reading
3221 people want to read
About the author
Jim DeRogatis
16 books50 followersJim DeRogatis is an associate professor of instruction at Columbia College Chicago and the host, with Greg Kot, of the nationally syndicated public radio show Sound Opinions. The author of Let it Blurt: The Life and Times of Lester Bangs and other books, he spent 15 years as the pop music critic at the Chicago Sun-Times. He lives in Chicago.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 97 reviews
May 27, 2017
I bought this after I saw the movie Almost Famous for the first time. I was fascinated by the Philip Seymour Hoffman character of Lester Bangs. I wanted to know more about him and discovered this book by Jim DeRogatis.
The book is simple reading, and can be finished in a couple of days, I seem to absorb more of this book every time I read it, new details about the monolith of rock criticism that is Lester Bangs emerge. From his birth and early family life, to his drug addictions, sexual experiences, ever-evolving love of music through to his efforts at publication and strained professional relationships with people from some of the biggest presences in rock reportage including Rolling Stone, New Musical Express and the Village Voice.
I would recommend this book to anyone who has a love of rock music from about 1960 onwards, anyone who loves bands like The Velvet Undergound, MC5 and who loves to movie Almost Famous, even though it barely features Bangs. Even for people who simply like to read biographies, this one can be as rivetting as they come.
The book is simple reading, and can be finished in a couple of days, I seem to absorb more of this book every time I read it, new details about the monolith of rock criticism that is Lester Bangs emerge. From his birth and early family life, to his drug addictions, sexual experiences, ever-evolving love of music through to his efforts at publication and strained professional relationships with people from some of the biggest presences in rock reportage including Rolling Stone, New Musical Express and the Village Voice.
I would recommend this book to anyone who has a love of rock music from about 1960 onwards, anyone who loves bands like The Velvet Undergound, MC5 and who loves to movie Almost Famous, even though it barely features Bangs. Even for people who simply like to read biographies, this one can be as rivetting as they come.
August 28, 2011
I am not a fan of Jim Derogatis at all. He's that typical music writer that I despise, a sideline observer who prides himself on how harshly he can pan musicians whose talent and artistic integrity exists on a level that he will never achieve. Still, as much as I can't stand old Jim, I must give him credit for his well-written and well-researched book that takes you into the life of the greatest music writer of the twentieth century. Lester Bangs was the H.L. Mencken of rock and roll, a true believer in the power of music who wrote with the fury and passion of a warrior on a battlefield.
Lester pulled no punches and wasted no time on politeness or professional courtesy. If he offended you, that was your problem. His attitude could have made him easily dismissed, but Lester's passion and energy, not to mention his ability to write on par with Shakespeare if he found something he adored, (like Van Morrison's "Astral Weeks"), made it impossible to ignore him or to pigeon-hole him as a bitter, overtly opinionated music critic.
When you read Lester Bangs, you simply know that you are reading something pure, a true and meaningful glimpse into a great work of art, one that would go undiscovered and unheard had Lester not heard it and shared it. Many music writers have tried to emulate his style, focusing way too hard on the sass and the sarcasm, but strongly lacking the passion and the enlightenment that came as easy to Lester as taking a drink of water, (or in his case, cough syrup).
In the case of Jim Derogatis, I commend him for this biography. I wish I could say the same for his music criticism, but for me, he definitely falls into the aforementioned category of post-Lester music writers.
Lester pulled no punches and wasted no time on politeness or professional courtesy. If he offended you, that was your problem. His attitude could have made him easily dismissed, but Lester's passion and energy, not to mention his ability to write on par with Shakespeare if he found something he adored, (like Van Morrison's "Astral Weeks"), made it impossible to ignore him or to pigeon-hole him as a bitter, overtly opinionated music critic.
When you read Lester Bangs, you simply know that you are reading something pure, a true and meaningful glimpse into a great work of art, one that would go undiscovered and unheard had Lester not heard it and shared it. Many music writers have tried to emulate his style, focusing way too hard on the sass and the sarcasm, but strongly lacking the passion and the enlightenment that came as easy to Lester as taking a drink of water, (or in his case, cough syrup).
In the case of Jim Derogatis, I commend him for this biography. I wish I could say the same for his music criticism, but for me, he definitely falls into the aforementioned category of post-Lester music writers.
March 24, 2024
I imagine Lester Bangs would have hated Men At Work. Though their debut album, “Business As Usual,” was released in their native Australia in November 1981, it wasn’t released in America until June 1982, less than two months after Lester died. (No, I didn’t know him, but, yes, I’m going to call him “Lester” and not “Bangs” in this review.) Men At Work was my favorite band in 1982, maybe all the way through late 1984 when Bryan Adams’s “Reckless” may have pushed him into the top spot, and it’s interesting (if only tenuously coincidental) that my then-favorite band should come on the scene just as (though I didn’t know it until many, many years later), my favorite (and yours, I suspect) rock critic was departing it.
Lester would have hated a lot about ’80s music, too: the proliferation of synthesizers and drum machines, studio production techniques that hit the shelves already past their expiration date, and, perhaps especially, the rise of MTV’s videos killing the radio star. But he wouldn’t have settled for all that lip gloss and spandex. No, he would have revelled in the underground music scenes coming up in D.C., Chicago, and Southern California in the early ’80s that were informed by punk but didn’t subscribe to the more self-destructive aspects of its ethos. He probably would have have dug the burgeoning thrash scene and its head-on assault of the Establishment. And he, no doubt, would have found other music, other bands, to celebrate, even if he could never have imagined how much trash would have to be sifted through to find the treasure.
The best place to start with Lester is, of course, his writings. If, like me, you weren’t there to read him in Rolling Stone, Creem, the Village Voice, or any number of other random and randomly obscure outlets of the day, “Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung” is where it’s at. If you’re reading this, you, no doubt, already know that, and have, most certainly, already read it. And, like me, you read it, and you fell in love with the way Lester made music — really made any topic he wrote about — come alive. You weren’t just reading words on a page, you were living them, breathing them, being carried along on a wave of sound and energy and the frenzy of poetic inspiration. He was a music critic, but, more than that, he was a music fan. He was the fan’s fan, constantly searching for meaning and truth, not just in the music but in the musicians, didn’t cotton to celebrity or artifice, didn’t buy into the idea of rock starz and rock godz, didn’t give a tinker’s damn about the capital “I” music Industry, and never pulled his punches out of any sort of concern for self-preservation. No, Lester wrote it like it saw it, like he felt it — like he lived it. He wasn’t afraid to lay it all out there, a-hundred-and-ten-percent certain, only to realize later he was totally wrong — and be willing to say so. He was human, he was vulnerable, unlike most of us, wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable, and, unlike most other rock journalists, didn’t take himself (at least in his role as a music writer), or the whole scene too seriously.
My point is, you can learn a lot about the man though his own words. With Lester, as with many non-fiction writers, that’s really all anyone needs. Anything else runs the risk of tabloid journalism: another writer bent on humanizing his subject but really only managing to make him more myth, more monster, more martyr. I am happy to say that’s not the case here with Jim DeRogatis’s worthy “Let it Blurt: The Life and Times of Lester Bangs, America’s Greatest Rock Critic.” Though DeRogatis is clearly a fan, he has managed to write a sensitive biography that neither sensationalizes nor sanitizes. Lester was brilliant, but like most true artists, he was an unbelievably flawed person with more than his fair share of hang-ups, issues, and troubles. He might have hated punk’s obsession with self-destruction — he even railed against it in print — but he could never escape his own problems with drugs and alcohol. And, either because of, or in spite of, or completely independently of his addictions, he could never get his life together the way he wanted to, or at least the way he frequently shared with others that he wanted to. His life wasn’t glamorous, it wasn’t easy; hell, in many ways it was miserable, and awful, and just plain sad.
Despite all that “our lot in life is to suffer” bullshit, Lester brought life, energy, emotion and feeling, creation and creativity, and a healthy dose of self-deprecating humor to the proceedings. His death at 33 was a tragedy, not just in the dead-too-soon sense, but because music, and not just music, could still use a voice like his. I could still use a voice like his: fearlessly expressive, manic and magical, propulsive, inspiring and infuriating, humble and larger-than-life, but, above all else, real. In “Let it Blurt,” DeRogatis performs that rarest of rock critic feats, staying out of the way, allowing Lester, warts and all, to shine, pop, crackle, fizz, and fade on his own (de)merits. As if that wasn’t enough, the book concludes with a Lester original from 1974 entitled “How to Be a Rock Critic: A Megatonic Journey with Lester Bangs,” that is both riotously funny and tells you just about everything you need to know about just how unseriously he took himself and his role in the whole “racket.”
Lester would have hated a lot about ’80s music, too: the proliferation of synthesizers and drum machines, studio production techniques that hit the shelves already past their expiration date, and, perhaps especially, the rise of MTV’s videos killing the radio star. But he wouldn’t have settled for all that lip gloss and spandex. No, he would have revelled in the underground music scenes coming up in D.C., Chicago, and Southern California in the early ’80s that were informed by punk but didn’t subscribe to the more self-destructive aspects of its ethos. He probably would have have dug the burgeoning thrash scene and its head-on assault of the Establishment. And he, no doubt, would have found other music, other bands, to celebrate, even if he could never have imagined how much trash would have to be sifted through to find the treasure.
The best place to start with Lester is, of course, his writings. If, like me, you weren’t there to read him in Rolling Stone, Creem, the Village Voice, or any number of other random and randomly obscure outlets of the day, “Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung” is where it’s at. If you’re reading this, you, no doubt, already know that, and have, most certainly, already read it. And, like me, you read it, and you fell in love with the way Lester made music — really made any topic he wrote about — come alive. You weren’t just reading words on a page, you were living them, breathing them, being carried along on a wave of sound and energy and the frenzy of poetic inspiration. He was a music critic, but, more than that, he was a music fan. He was the fan’s fan, constantly searching for meaning and truth, not just in the music but in the musicians, didn’t cotton to celebrity or artifice, didn’t buy into the idea of rock starz and rock godz, didn’t give a tinker’s damn about the capital “I” music Industry, and never pulled his punches out of any sort of concern for self-preservation. No, Lester wrote it like it saw it, like he felt it — like he lived it. He wasn’t afraid to lay it all out there, a-hundred-and-ten-percent certain, only to realize later he was totally wrong — and be willing to say so. He was human, he was vulnerable, unlike most of us, wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable, and, unlike most other rock journalists, didn’t take himself (at least in his role as a music writer), or the whole scene too seriously.
My point is, you can learn a lot about the man though his own words. With Lester, as with many non-fiction writers, that’s really all anyone needs. Anything else runs the risk of tabloid journalism: another writer bent on humanizing his subject but really only managing to make him more myth, more monster, more martyr. I am happy to say that’s not the case here with Jim DeRogatis’s worthy “Let it Blurt: The Life and Times of Lester Bangs, America’s Greatest Rock Critic.” Though DeRogatis is clearly a fan, he has managed to write a sensitive biography that neither sensationalizes nor sanitizes. Lester was brilliant, but like most true artists, he was an unbelievably flawed person with more than his fair share of hang-ups, issues, and troubles. He might have hated punk’s obsession with self-destruction — he even railed against it in print — but he could never escape his own problems with drugs and alcohol. And, either because of, or in spite of, or completely independently of his addictions, he could never get his life together the way he wanted to, or at least the way he frequently shared with others that he wanted to. His life wasn’t glamorous, it wasn’t easy; hell, in many ways it was miserable, and awful, and just plain sad.
Despite all that “our lot in life is to suffer” bullshit, Lester brought life, energy, emotion and feeling, creation and creativity, and a healthy dose of self-deprecating humor to the proceedings. His death at 33 was a tragedy, not just in the dead-too-soon sense, but because music, and not just music, could still use a voice like his. I could still use a voice like his: fearlessly expressive, manic and magical, propulsive, inspiring and infuriating, humble and larger-than-life, but, above all else, real. In “Let it Blurt,” DeRogatis performs that rarest of rock critic feats, staying out of the way, allowing Lester, warts and all, to shine, pop, crackle, fizz, and fade on his own (de)merits. As if that wasn’t enough, the book concludes with a Lester original from 1974 entitled “How to Be a Rock Critic: A Megatonic Journey with Lester Bangs,” that is both riotously funny and tells you just about everything you need to know about just how unseriously he took himself and his role in the whole “racket.”
March 21, 2009
Worth reading automatically because it's about Lester but Derogatis really doesn't write all that well. The writing is ok as far as it goes but the man knew him and interviewed him and I really wanted something of the Bangs touch. The research is there, it's just not quite the fitting tribute to a guy for whom rock criticsm and aesthetic comprehension was a form of art and legitimate literature in its own respect.
The stories are good and the insight is suitable but I was all in all dissapointed by his book. Unfulfilled is probably the better term, really.
More Lester publcations!!!!
The stories are good and the insight is suitable but I was all in all dissapointed by his book. Unfulfilled is probably the better term, really.
More Lester publcations!!!!
December 6, 2008
I am a huge Lester Bangs fan, but not so much a Jim Derogatis fan. The narrative here doesn't really work, and the interviews Derogatis chooses seem overly critical of Bangs. It gave me this weird feeling that while Derogatis is trying to pass this off as an homage, he's really trying to prove that Bangs wasn't so great.
June 8, 2010
If there were a gonzo holy trinity, I'd vote for HST, Henry Miller and this guy. He's the best. He lived hard. He burned to live. He was a total nutcase. He had horrible hygiene and plenty of women fell for him anyway. Perhaps they felt sorry for him as much as anything. Though he could be a helluva fun guy. (He also happens to be where David Foster Wallace got the phrase "erection of the heart" -- s'thing I just learned in David Lipsky's interview/book from DFW.) He grew up Jehovah's Witness, which I guess explains some of his outsize love for the Rock N' Roll. Which I totally understand, having been raised half-Amish myself and having to smuggle Black Sabbath tapes in the house disguised as classical music tapes. But I digress. Lester Bangs. I mean, look at that name even. Legendary. He wanted to be a serious writer but ended up in the music review ghetto, fortunately for us, I guess. Jim Derogatis, as a fat little high school kid, did the last (or one of the last) interviews Bangs ever did. The the torch was passed on, so to speak. Some rock critics I know who knew him personally say that Bangs would've hated this book, which I can also believe. Still, it was a pretty fine history of a true American original.
August 15, 2007
I was mostly surprised that Lester became such a wuss in matters of love.
October 31, 2025
jag borde läst den här boken tidigare, den kanske mest legendariska rockskribenten genom tiderna, ni kanske minns Kaufmans version av honom i Almost famous. Boken är inte alls dum men jag hade velat haft mer och djupare historier om honom.
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October 22, 2025My professor wrote this p p period. Funny to read after watching "Almost Famous" because all I could picture was Phillip Seymour Hoffman as Lester Bangs. But this was really good; it's obvious how much Professor DeRogatis has been inspired by Bangs and why he has set a standard for so many music critics to follow. DeRogatis writes with the pure, true honesty and grit that Bangs himself would be proud of.
March 19, 2023
The gospel of Rock & Roll, baby !!!!
October 7, 2022
“…really the only kind of fixed group, organization, or club I could ever imagine myself joining was a rock ‘n’ roll band” – Lester Bangs (179-180).
Reading Bangs’ work, on the one hand, you feel like you know the guy because, famously, so much of his music writing is based on him talking about himself, which, for me, is what makes his the best. On the other hand, reading his work makes you want to learn more about the guy to understand what possesses him to write the way he does (maniacally).
I’ve never read or listened to DeRegotis’ criticism, but from his writing of this biography, he strikes me as a critic who, like Bangs, is propelled by a searching enthusiasm, but unlike Bangs is a member of straight society and a square of a writer. That doesn’t bother me in the least, and in fact, lends a measured account of clearly the most fun, (while undeniably at times problematic) music writer.
DeRegotis is nothing if not thorough and hard working. He’s read everything and interviewed everyone, and on a typical page, heavily quotes others’ written and spoken words about the subject. His biography is mostly chronological, and through the accounts of Bangs’ admirers, lovers, friends, family members, musician subjects, critic colleagues, and enemies, creates a story structured like a novel, with a dramatic arc and tragic ending.
Reading Bangs’ work, on the one hand, you feel like you know the guy because, famously, so much of his music writing is based on him talking about himself, which, for me, is what makes his the best. On the other hand, reading his work makes you want to learn more about the guy to understand what possesses him to write the way he does (maniacally).
I’ve never read or listened to DeRegotis’ criticism, but from his writing of this biography, he strikes me as a critic who, like Bangs, is propelled by a searching enthusiasm, but unlike Bangs is a member of straight society and a square of a writer. That doesn’t bother me in the least, and in fact, lends a measured account of clearly the most fun, (while undeniably at times problematic) music writer.
DeRegotis is nothing if not thorough and hard working. He’s read everything and interviewed everyone, and on a typical page, heavily quotes others’ written and spoken words about the subject. His biography is mostly chronological, and through the accounts of Bangs’ admirers, lovers, friends, family members, musician subjects, critic colleagues, and enemies, creates a story structured like a novel, with a dramatic arc and tragic ending.
September 23, 2020
Lester Bangs was, without a doubt, one of the liveliest critics to emerge from the second half of the 20th century. Unapologetically pugnacious, an unforgettably vivacious voice. DeRogatis has done a commendable job of giving us a sense of how he lived and a sense of how he was troubled. Bangs most certainly would not have found a place in today's risk-averse writing environment and one does wonder if he would have found a Nick Tosches-like life if he had not died so young. One sees a portrait here of a clear talent who had the misfortune of using it in the most parasitical medium known to writing: criticism. This volume did have me hungry to know more about the New York music world of the 1970s and the many colorful figure who ran tabs at the Bells. Bangs himself is revealed to contain numerous contradictions: rude and ugly one minute, sweet and caring the next. Someone whose tendency to write fast and on speed was both a blessing and a curse.
August 14, 2012
Just like the rating, it was OK. I came away knowing a bit about Bangs' past and how he developed his style, but never got to see it. De Rogatis talks about it a lot, as do his interview subjects, but we are left to take it from them. Without seeing his writing, there is no way to come to your own conclusion.
His (self-destructive) path from California to NYC was well documented, as was his link to various scenes throughout - Detroit, the punk/post-punk scene in NYC and then to the Austin and back.
In the end, it reads like a long list of high-school level activities and no better understanding of how Bangs was actually America's Greatest rock critic...
His (self-destructive) path from California to NYC was well documented, as was his link to various scenes throughout - Detroit, the punk/post-punk scene in NYC and then to the Austin and back.
In the end, it reads like a long list of high-school level activities and no better understanding of how Bangs was actually America's Greatest rock critic...
July 25, 2009
In a way this is better than the collection of Lester's writings that I read earlier. Jim is such a "fan" I guess of Lester that he eschewed the crap that existed in that collection such as the writings from the "grave". He shows Lester warts and all and Lester had plenty of them, but you respected him and rarely felt sorry for him which would be any easy trap to fall into. Lester was an interesting and sad man. Jim really got to the joy of him as well. After this you feel like you "get" Lester. Do you know him? Does anyone ever really know anyone?
November 26, 2007
It's been years since I read this book my freshman year of college after being introduced to Lester Bangs by Almost Famous. Jim Derogotis' book got me really interested in bands from the seventies and in listening to rock music critically and in a social context. Appropriately subtitled "The Life and Times of Lester Bangs," the book also captures and era and lifestyle. "Let it Blurt" is as much about music as it is about sex, drugs, relationships, and culture.
March 20, 2008
Having had my appetite whetted by "Almost Famous,' I sought this biography of Bangs. Unfortunately, the author who chose to capture the life and times of our most famous rock critic is nothing more than a fanboy amateur who somehow manages Bangs's life come across as boring, insipid and self-indulgent. Maybe that's the truth, but I much prefer Philip Seymour Hoffman's version--at least he was lovable.
August 10, 2023
A truly great biography about a fascinating, era-defining writer. I sort of knew a lot of the story already through Lester’s writing, but hearing the perspectives of his friends and colleagues was pretty staggering—I was near tears reading this on the plane home.
I won’t say much about the book itself; I think it’s enough to say that if you’ve been at all captivated by Lester Bangs, you need to read this bio right this second.
I won’t say much about the book itself; I think it’s enough to say that if you’ve been at all captivated by Lester Bangs, you need to read this bio right this second.
January 23, 2008
Not a whole lot of people from my generation even know who Lester Bangs is...so here's your chance. If you like rock and roll from the 60's and 70's, maybe you'll like this book. If you felt a kinship to "Almost Famous", you'll probably like this book.
November 10, 2021
There might be no more interesting subject for a bio than Lester Bangs, the greatest American rock critic of all time--a writer who makes Hunter S. Thompson look at times prosaic, and thankfully, this is the biography Bangs deserves: well researched, adroitly written, and hella fun to read.
May 29, 2013
He was a softy who just couldn't handle it all. So sad that he's gone.
March 19, 2021
I read Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung about 25 years ago (!) and liked it, so I was willing to give this a shot. It's an interesting look at the life of Bangs, who comes off as impassioned, determined, and often completely full of shit - sometimes all at once. It's especially interesting looking at this from the perspective of the 2020s, an era where rock has been down so long that it's no longer even worth saying "rock is dead" because it seems so clearly played out.
For all the wondering if Bangs would continue to write about music in this book, it's worth noting that he constantly talked about writing a straight-up novel, but never got around to it. He might've been someone more comfortable writing short pieces than a long novel. Frankly, as much as I've liked his writing style, 200-some pages of it can be too much of a dose.
The most interesting thing I took from the book was the rise and fall of rock criticism. The first magazines to seriously look at the music came out in the late 1960s, and reached full ascendency in the early 1970s. That's when Bangs was at his peak at Creem. Then, the rise of People magazine and celebrity culture caused even music mags to shift. It was more about the personalities than the music, and staying on good terms with the artists, so don't criticize their work too much. Y'know, I always thought it was odd that many of the music critics who were the most prominent were guys who came out of the early 1970s (Bangs, Dave Marsh, Greil Marcus, Robert Christgau, Jon Landau) - but I guess this helps explain it.
Good book, but nothing earth-shattering.
For all the wondering if Bangs would continue to write about music in this book, it's worth noting that he constantly talked about writing a straight-up novel, but never got around to it. He might've been someone more comfortable writing short pieces than a long novel. Frankly, as much as I've liked his writing style, 200-some pages of it can be too much of a dose.
The most interesting thing I took from the book was the rise and fall of rock criticism. The first magazines to seriously look at the music came out in the late 1960s, and reached full ascendency in the early 1970s. That's when Bangs was at his peak at Creem. Then, the rise of People magazine and celebrity culture caused even music mags to shift. It was more about the personalities than the music, and staying on good terms with the artists, so don't criticize their work too much. Y'know, I always thought it was odd that many of the music critics who were the most prominent were guys who came out of the early 1970s (Bangs, Dave Marsh, Greil Marcus, Robert Christgau, Jon Landau) - but I guess this helps explain it.
Good book, but nothing earth-shattering.
October 18, 2017
Great biography that should have been written years ago. This dude should be given more credit on the New Journalism front, along with Hunter Thompson and Tom Wolfe. I really don't think he gets the credit he deserves or the credit he would have gotten if he'd lived past 33. It's a great tribute to a great American writer. It captures Bangs' tone and the feel of the time. It sadly hints at where Lester could have gone with his work. Though he lived a roller coaster, rock n roll lifestyle and could be a bit of an asshole sometimes, this book fights through that to get to the core of Bangs' character. While there are moments that glamorize the debaucherous lifestyle, you certainly see the pity-worthy moments of an unhealthy man struggling to keep it together. When we talk about figures like him and like Hunter Thompson, I think it's important to show how they paid the price for the lifestyles they lived. This book does that. This is an important book about a really important literary figure, and it does a great job of letting the most important thing shine: Lester's words.
August 15, 2025
I ordered this biography almost immediately after finishing “Psychotic Reactions & Carburetor Dung” because I needed more Lester Bangs in my life. It was as simple as that. I was blown away by that collection (which I stumbled upon by chance a couple years back), had visceral reactions to certain essays, passages and sentiments in that book. It was raw and heartfelt and funny and it fucking rocked, exploding with ideas and words that penetrate. I won’t dwell too much on Lester’s writing here because this is not a book of Lester's writing but one that is about him (it does contain an amusing piece he authored at the end along with some selected song lyrics but I’ll wait until I finish “Mainlines, Blood Feasts & Bad Taste” before I unleash my next wave of unabashed, potentially eye-rolling and possibly misplaced adoration).
I struggle to articulate the reasons Lester(’s life) strikes such a chord with me (perhaps I’m apprehensive of verbalizing it for fear of the implications and what it may reveal about me and what I think about myself). But nevertheless, at this point in my life, I am fascinated by (and damn near fixated on) his life and art and downfall and its place in the bigger picture of rock and popular culture (plus I'm just fascinated by the whole 70s/80s NYC scene in general). Lester, as I feel it in my heart and soul, was as pure as it gets, and that quality didn’t just bleed through the writing - it was the writing. But I’m getting hung up on that again (although with Lester there was no distinction between him and the written word). Back to the Book about the Man; it was a good read - I tore through it. I’m not too familiar with the author but thought he did a commendable job assembling it all together and obviously this comes from painstaking research and a place of love and deep admiration. Often very nature of these sorts of books (biographies), in my experience, sometimes makes it difficult for them to break out of a certain pre-set mold - they can too easily feel surface level (I mean you’re tasked with trying to condense a life down to 300 pages) or else they have an air of staleness and predictability, but the fact that a teenaged DeRogatis was able to meet and interview Lester in his apartment (as part of a high school ‘meet a hero’ assignment) just two weeks before he passed (and included is a picture from that meeting which really makes an impression) gives this particular endeavor a personal touch, a level of intimacy of which many biographies do not have the luxury. It sets the tone in a unique way. The book flows well as it moves through the years and chapters of Bangs's life; “Let it Blurt” is a detailed, informative and ultimately moving tribute to the legendary rock critic that doesn't veer into polished hagiography territory. The subject doesn’t always come off looking the best (no surprises) but I walked away with a greater understanding and therefore a greater love and appreciation for Lester, what he contributed and what he stood for. For who he was - a big-hearted, sensitive soul with his fair share of demons, an often hygienically-challenged writer with impeccable (music) taste and a sheer mastery of the written word and his craft at large. A singular voice, a rare talent.
I knew next to nothing about Lester’s attempts at getting his music career off the ground and found those parts captivating (and I checked out Birdland on YouTube - sounded fucking great). Reading about Lester trying to pull it together towards the end just made me sad, positively blue. Grappling with sobriety and your own reputation. The feeling of being stuck in a perpetual cycle and never getting anything off the ground, despite repeated [haphazard] attempts (the glazed-over look in his Austin mugshot makes me feel all kinds of uneasy and sadness - I see so many people in that numb vacant stare, including myself at times). The feeling of being let down and in turn you let down others, the whole fucked-up domino situation. His complicated relationship with the women of his life, the looming figure of his dead father and the effects - conscious and unconscious - are heavy duty topics. There’s always going to be inherent level of projection whenever one posits they ‘relate’ to someone, especially a public figure they never knew and who died decades ago, but there was something I sense (or project) in Lester’s disillusion and restlessness and self-destruction and decidedly Yes-to-Life stance in the face of everything that just resonates, hits me to my core. On the question of whether he believed Lester was clinically depressed, his therapist said “[Lester] loved life. He never stopped searching. There was a vitality about him that was real and genuine. He was always searching, but what does that mean? If you stop searching, you are depressed, by definition. And he never stopped searching.” I have written before that I am drawn by polarities if character. Not contradictions necessarily but polarities, discrepancies. Lester was larger-than-life on the one hand but on the other comes off utterly down-to-earth. Wild and irreverent and unreliable yet sensitive and solid as a rock, a voice of reason and insanity in a world that increasingly feels like it has less of that in it.
There’s an interesting part in the afterword, emerging out of some slight antagonism towards Greil Marcus and Robert Christgau by the writer/critic James Walcott. He says “There’s a jealously with both Marcus and Christgau, because Lester really reached readers. Bob and Greil have their followers, but they don’t have the kind of intense fandom that Lester had. You felt connected to him. You can’t imagine, like: ‘Jeez, I wanna hang out with Greil Marcus’. What Lester had was rare.” I can’t comment on the jealousy part, but it is a fact that what Lester had was special, and I am grateful that this book exists, and that people are still recognizing and honoring him, that his writing is still out there being discovered. It is much deserved.
I'm not a stickler for scores. Five stars for Lester.
I struggle to articulate the reasons Lester(’s life) strikes such a chord with me (perhaps I’m apprehensive of verbalizing it for fear of the implications and what it may reveal about me and what I think about myself). But nevertheless, at this point in my life, I am fascinated by (and damn near fixated on) his life and art and downfall and its place in the bigger picture of rock and popular culture (plus I'm just fascinated by the whole 70s/80s NYC scene in general). Lester, as I feel it in my heart and soul, was as pure as it gets, and that quality didn’t just bleed through the writing - it was the writing. But I’m getting hung up on that again (although with Lester there was no distinction between him and the written word). Back to the Book about the Man; it was a good read - I tore through it. I’m not too familiar with the author but thought he did a commendable job assembling it all together and obviously this comes from painstaking research and a place of love and deep admiration. Often very nature of these sorts of books (biographies), in my experience, sometimes makes it difficult for them to break out of a certain pre-set mold - they can too easily feel surface level (I mean you’re tasked with trying to condense a life down to 300 pages) or else they have an air of staleness and predictability, but the fact that a teenaged DeRogatis was able to meet and interview Lester in his apartment (as part of a high school ‘meet a hero’ assignment) just two weeks before he passed (and included is a picture from that meeting which really makes an impression) gives this particular endeavor a personal touch, a level of intimacy of which many biographies do not have the luxury. It sets the tone in a unique way. The book flows well as it moves through the years and chapters of Bangs's life; “Let it Blurt” is a detailed, informative and ultimately moving tribute to the legendary rock critic that doesn't veer into polished hagiography territory. The subject doesn’t always come off looking the best (no surprises) but I walked away with a greater understanding and therefore a greater love and appreciation for Lester, what he contributed and what he stood for. For who he was - a big-hearted, sensitive soul with his fair share of demons, an often hygienically-challenged writer with impeccable (music) taste and a sheer mastery of the written word and his craft at large. A singular voice, a rare talent.
I knew next to nothing about Lester’s attempts at getting his music career off the ground and found those parts captivating (and I checked out Birdland on YouTube - sounded fucking great). Reading about Lester trying to pull it together towards the end just made me sad, positively blue. Grappling with sobriety and your own reputation. The feeling of being stuck in a perpetual cycle and never getting anything off the ground, despite repeated [haphazard] attempts (the glazed-over look in his Austin mugshot makes me feel all kinds of uneasy and sadness - I see so many people in that numb vacant stare, including myself at times). The feeling of being let down and in turn you let down others, the whole fucked-up domino situation. His complicated relationship with the women of his life, the looming figure of his dead father and the effects - conscious and unconscious - are heavy duty topics. There’s always going to be inherent level of projection whenever one posits they ‘relate’ to someone, especially a public figure they never knew and who died decades ago, but there was something I sense (or project) in Lester’s disillusion and restlessness and self-destruction and decidedly Yes-to-Life stance in the face of everything that just resonates, hits me to my core. On the question of whether he believed Lester was clinically depressed, his therapist said “[Lester] loved life. He never stopped searching. There was a vitality about him that was real and genuine. He was always searching, but what does that mean? If you stop searching, you are depressed, by definition. And he never stopped searching.” I have written before that I am drawn by polarities if character. Not contradictions necessarily but polarities, discrepancies. Lester was larger-than-life on the one hand but on the other comes off utterly down-to-earth. Wild and irreverent and unreliable yet sensitive and solid as a rock, a voice of reason and insanity in a world that increasingly feels like it has less of that in it.
There’s an interesting part in the afterword, emerging out of some slight antagonism towards Greil Marcus and Robert Christgau by the writer/critic James Walcott. He says “There’s a jealously with both Marcus and Christgau, because Lester really reached readers. Bob and Greil have their followers, but they don’t have the kind of intense fandom that Lester had. You felt connected to him. You can’t imagine, like: ‘Jeez, I wanna hang out with Greil Marcus’. What Lester had was rare.” I can’t comment on the jealousy part, but it is a fact that what Lester had was special, and I am grateful that this book exists, and that people are still recognizing and honoring him, that his writing is still out there being discovered. It is much deserved.
I'm not a stickler for scores. Five stars for Lester.
October 7, 2020
Lester Bangs wrote like the beat poets he idolized. So the record reviews he wrote for Rolling Stone, Creem, and The Village Voice could be brilliant, transcendent, and self-indulgent all at once. He was also funny as shit, and has now singularly influenced at least two generations of critics. Without ever devolving into sentimentality, DeRogatis brings so much pathos to the task of telling the story of Lester Bangs. It's an elegy. It's a story with not a little tragedy, from childhood trauma to addiction, but it's also a story of an amazing, ambitious, outrageous writer. DeRogatis includes jaw-dropping anecdotes of sex, drugs, and rock and roll (especially drugs), but he also introduces reader to a person who loved music, and loved writing too. I think DeRogatis above all wants us to wish we'd had the chance to sit down with Bangs and talk about records. I do.
July 16, 2019
knowing random things regarding his life beforehand, this book was great at putting together the puzzle that was lester bangs. i'm not a quick reader, and this was by no means a quick read. excitement arose picturing the venues described and the musicians involved through the multitude of name dropping, which also lead to some of the drag time. So much was interviews that you had to concentrate on who each person was and the timeline. a must read for music fans. i also need to get back to nyc!
July 22, 2023
There is a lot to like in the writing here. It very much captures the nature of its focus, Lester Bangs. For biography there is a lot of solid research, with interviews and material from the times being captured, but at the same also a human side where the author shares their love and reverence for bangs. That doesn't really get in the way though maybe just gives a tint. Overall it's well written well thought out and enjoyable.
February 24, 2018
A re-read for me. Probably closer to a 3.5 but I don’t have any real problem bumping it up. A story about the one guy that loved music more than the musicians that he wrote about. As noted in one anecdote, when his building caught on fire, the only possession Bangs “saved” was a Public Image Ltd record.
But also the story of a guy who never truly learned how to be loved.
But also the story of a guy who never truly learned how to be loved.
February 23, 2019
This is an amazing book, thoroughly researched and fascinating. A must read for anybody who remembers when the music of the young wasn't simply considered entertainment. When the rock and roll culture walked it and talked it, and when meeting at the same station in life wasn't reduced to 'likes' on a digital device. These days...we could really use a guy like Lester Bangs.
November 14, 2020
In depth, wordy and well researched, Let It Blurt is written very much in the same style as Lester himself wrote. I am not as familiar with 60s and 70s rock and so had to have Google nearby for reference look ups for the many, many names throughout the book. Great book, portrayed the man and history of rock criticism well.
February 23, 2021
Here is a glimpse into the life and times of Lester Bangs the great music critic and general miscreant. Although there are glimpses of his brilliance, self destruction isn't as cute as I once thought. What a wonder - what a waste.
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