Formation: Building a Personal Canon, Part 1

by Brad Mehldau

As an innovative and constantly inventive jazz pianist, Brad Mehldau has attracted a sizable following over the years, one that has grown to expect a singular, intense experience from his performances. With Formation, Brad seeks to extend that experience to the page, by sharing some of the deeply personal elements of his life, and how these came together for him to become the musician and person that he is today. For the first time, he offers an in-depth look at how he came to understand his adoption, survive sexual abuse, and overcome heroin addiction. The book creates a vibrantly-written portrait of the jazz world in New York in the late 1980s and early 1990s, showing how a generation of musicians met and sparked off one another to take the music in new directions, drawing on a wealth of influences but also keeping sight of tradition, including those rooted in both the jazz and classical worlds. The atmosphere of the clubs, the creative scene in Manhattan and Brooklyn, and Brad's early experiences of touring are brilliantly brought to life. The formation of the "Mood Swing" quartet with Joshua Redman is described, as is the growth of Brad's own groups, leading to his acclaimed Art of the Trio series of recordings with bassist Larry Grenadier and drummer Jorge Rossy. The trio's later life with Jeff Ballard joining in place of Rossy; Brad's solo ventures; and his explorations of other areas of music, are also covered. There is no holding back when it comes to Brad's period of heroin addiction - his painful personal decline and ultimate redemption make for compelling and often distressing reading. Yet throughout the book, his own reading and listening are a constant frame of reference and often inspiration, from the works of James Joyce and Thomas Mann to the sounds of Prog rock and Bob Dylan, not to mention critics from Harold Bloom to Terry Eagleton. The book can be read as a bildungsroman, but this coming-of-age is no novel, it is vividly lived personal experience. Intimate, vulnerable and profound, Formation is a rare look inside the mind of an artist at the top of his field, in his own words.

Genres: Music, Memoir, Jazz, Autobiography

311 pages, Hardcover

Published March 1, 2023

Reviews

[Chris · Rating 4 out of 5]

Brad Mehldau verscheen op mijn jazz-radar toen zijn eerste Art of the Trio-album verscheen, eind jaren ’90. Ik was meteen fan, ook al bleef Keith Jarrett mijn eerste liefde als het om jazzpianisten ging. Mehldau’s linkerhand fascineerde me omdat ze bij momenten zo extreem snel en vooral onafhankelijk van zijn rechter kon spelen. Wat me verder en later aan hem bleef boeien, waren de literair-filosofische teksten die hij eigenhandig voor zijn cd-boekjes schreef en vooral de manier waarop hij rocksongs (Radiohead, Nick Drake), Amerikaanse folk (met mandolinist Chris Tile) en klassiek (Bach, Brahms en zijn recente samenwerking met tenor Ian Bostridge) in zijn eigen muzikale idioom wist in te bedden en zijn avontuurlijke uitstapjes buiten de akoestische jazz, met elektr(on)ische instrumenten, noise en strijkers. Ik mis geen enkele nieuwe release van hem.

Toen ongeveer een jaar geleden deze autobiografie uitkwam, wachtte ik echter liever even af, want het prijskaartje was nogal aan de hoge kant. Bij deze bedank ik dan ook mijn GR-vriendin Becky voor de geldbesparende boekenruil die we organiseerden. Tegelijk begrijp ik intussen waarom het zo’n duur ding is geworden. Behalve dat de bladzijden dicht- en breedbedrukt zijn, schreef Brad Mehldau eigenlijk vier boeken in één. Elk van de vier hoofdstukken heeft nl. zijn eigen thematische insteek. En het was in het Engels ook niet altijd een easy read, want ook als schrijver houdt de pianist van complexe fraseringen.

Voor Brad Mehldau was de bedoeling van ‘Formation’ om een persoonlijke canon op te maken van wat hem tot de veelzijdige en succesvolle muzikant heeft gemaakt die hij vandaag de dag is. Een Bildungsroman zeg maar, waarin verschillende elementen de mens en muzikant Brad Mehldau bepaald en gevormd hebben.

In het eerste deel, ‘Tom Sawyer’, beschrijft hij zijn kinder- en jeugdjaren, een combinatie van typisch Amerikaanse ‘Wonder Years’ en muzikale herinneringen, zowel die van het begaafde jongetje dat klassieke piano leert spelen als van de gepassioneerde luisteraar en ontdekker van de pop- en rockmuziek van de jaren ’70 en ’80. Voor mij, als leeftijdsgenoot van Mehldau, uiterst herkenbaar. Gaandeweg wordt zijn 'American Dream' echter overschaduwd door pesterijen, subtiel seksueel misbruik, drank, drugs en de daarmee gepaard gaande zelfverachting en zelftwijfel.

Deel twee, ‘New York’, duikt dan diep in de jazz die Brad Mehldau tijdens zijn opleiding leert ademen en analyseren. Lessen van grootheden, jamsessies met helden en het zoeken van zijn eigen weg, stem en verwante muzikanten. Hoogbegaafd en hoogsensitief als hij is (ook al worden deze termen nergens gebruikt), neemt hij de hele jazz-geschiedenis nauwgezet onder de loep, met heerlijk veel namedroppings, waarvan ik de meeste ook kende. Het toverde dan ook mijn eigen herinneringen als ontdekkende jazzliefhebber in diezelfde periode (begin jaren ’90) weer tevoorschijn. Heerlijk!

Deel drie heet ‘Meta Blues’ en je zou het haast een filosofische literatuurstudie kunnen noemen, gedrenkt in een muzikaal bad. O.a. Thomas Mann (Doctor Faustus) en James Joyce (Ulysses) worden uitvoerig geanalyseerd en er is ook een ‘Fuck Adorno!’-fragment. Opnieuw voel je hoe de hoogbegaafde, hoogsensitieve denker worstelt met zijn zelfbeeld, deze keer door het te vergelijken met de ideeën van zijn literaire, filosofische én muzikale helden. Straffe, soms taaie kost.

Dan volgt het onvermijdelijke vierde deel ‘The Long Goodbye’, waarin Brad Mehldau over zijn al meermaals in het boek aangekondigde heroïne- en drankverslaving schrijft. Hij doet dat zo rauw, gevoelig en openhartig dat ik me er, net als GR-vriendin Becky, soms een beetje ongemakkelijk bij ging voelen. Het is een schrijnend verhaal, temeer omdat hij er een aantal vrienden aan heeft zien sterven, wat voor levenslange littekens zorgt. Maar hij eindigt hoopvol, met de boodschap dat wie in staat is om ze te overwinnen, in zekere zin rijker en intenser gaat leven. Hoe? … Dat zal voor Part two zijn, want er volgt blijkbaar nog een boek. Iets om naar uit te kijken nu, want Brad Mehldau schrijft zoals hij speelt: onweerstaanbaar straf en hypersensitief. 4,5*

[Barna Szász · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wow, Brad Mehldau surprised me with this one. Until I read this book, I thought Mehldau was 'only' the best jazz pianist of his generation, arguably the best in the past 30 years — which is no small feat. By reading this book, I realized he's an incredibly complex, fascinating human being who had to deal with an awful lot of drama. He has a wild, and sometimes radically nihilistic or self-destructive, side that's hard for me to understand (but I still respect it), and he reads and thinks a lot. He shares all of this in a book that was written by a natural writer, in a fully honest manner.
It wasn't always an easy read, sometimes I couldn't follow his more in-depth references to literature; other times, I was in total flow reading about chapters of his life or reflections on music. He can get lost in the details of his childhood or in describing a person he crossed paths with in such fascinating ways — some of those moments were my favorites. This book made me love and respect Brad even more, and I am hungry for the follow-up book.

[Michael · Rating 5 out of 5]

Amazing writing - nonchalant and somewhat detached, but also incisive and warm. Reading an autobiography by such a great writer is a real treat.

[Donna Lowe · Rating 5 out of 5]

You will learn a lot about Brad Mehldau from this book—maybe more than you ever expected to—but it will make you love his music even more. Can’t wait for the next volume.

[JDK1962 · Rating 4 out of 5]

The musical material (up till 8th grade, and then in Manhattan at the New School) was great. The material that begins the "Meta Blues" section (i.e., the stuff on Bloom and Adorno) was a slog, mainly because critical tyrants--whether conservative or Marxist--are just so fucking tedious. And a lot of the material on sexual and drug abuse felt like waaaay too much information: I understand why he wrote it down, and it obviously belongs in the book...but it's not that pleasant to read someone's pain at that depth. Unfortunately, this volume ends with him hitting bottom and going into rehab, so it doesn't leave you with the greatest taste in your mouth.

Still a fan though. I already have my ticket to see him on tour next month (March 2024).

[Nelson · Rating 3 out of 5]

Will begin by noting that I am an enormous fan of Mehldau, one who aspires to have every last recording of his whether as a leader or sideman (am only a couple of discs short of this goal). His music, particularly the early trio work, is part of my sonic landscape, one of the first jazz players I completely grokked. His music remains a permanent touchstone. Fans will know from his liner notes (Mehldau has long done his own) that Brad is a big brain, steeped in German romanticism and critical theory. He frequently invokes these sources to place himself and his musical ambitions into context. It's a welcome relief from say, the endless overwrought hagiographic stylings of Stanley Crouch on disc after Marsalis disc. What works in a shorter context can, however, pall, in a longer one. One would expect Mehldau to write exactly this kind of searching self-analysis as an autobiography, based on his own liner note musings. Here, he purposes the first part of his life (up through his final, apparently successful attempt to get clean) as a kind of bildung: self-formation. The pun in the title is of course intentional. For Mehldau, bildung means building a sense of self through aural models. He is canny about how this 'selection' comes about. It can be accidental of course, and has everything to do with serendipity: musical and verbal cues attaching to the ephemera of life as it is lived. Mehldau is ruthlessly clear on how various sonic flotsam and jetsam entered his orbit and became selected for as a way of coming to self-understanding. The journey is difficult and fraught with numerous challenges. Mehldau was adopted and early experienced various forms of not-belonging which in turn caused other solutions to present themselves. From a teen he began self-medicating, as it were, with tobacco, then alcohol and then drugs. Into this volatile mix, all the anodyne trauma of being a belated Gen X kid (the agon is real, millennial) also accrues, with increasing amounts of sexual confusion thrown in for good measure. Mehldau bravely names and talks through his being groomed by a principal in high school. The through line in all of this is perfect pitch and native talent for piano encouraged by very loving and indulging parents. Mehldau lives and breathes both classical and jazz, and of course was raised on rock (and later rap). The sources of his musical imagination are what he charts here. The best parts of the book have to do with this 'canon' formation, along with information about the jazz scene in New York in 90s, when so many figures important to the music now were coming into their own. What palls, frankly, are the long disquisitions on the novels of Mann, the meditations on Adorno and the regurgitations of the palpitations Harold Bloom put all of us through back in the late 80s early 90s with his anxiety of influence bullshit. Mehldau is to be commended for his ruthless self-dissection of his own motives and evolving sense of self, yet at times, the parsing begins to feel a little like his ruthless solo dissections of lesser pop material (I'm going to throw Elliott Smith in here, rather than, say, Radiohead or Nick Drake or the Beatles). The searching, exhaustive parsing of a few chords in such music can sometimes remind one of his aching (and dull) readings and re-readings of a wet fish like Adorno. I suspect some of this is Mehldau's wish to avoid the usual nonsense of a jazz bio: prodigy, complication, making it. Such an arc leaves one bored once the wunderkid arrives. Mehldau avoids this with his self-therapy here. But it also means that we have to read in real time as he works through his teen and 20s shit. He knows the tedium of this (he refers to it often in the text) even as he uses it to escape the usual jazz bio cliches. I think the rest of this mode comes down to Mehldau's native way of thinking through life and music. So no doubt there will be considerably more of this extended navel-gazing in the parts to come. He's held off (but teased relentlessly) the role of, if not religion, then God, as part of his solution to the problems of ego and identity that drive so much of the narrative here. I'll read every part as they come out because, Mehldau completist, but I will enjoy more (as here) the passages on thinking about music and performing more than anything else, even if the anything else is an exhaustive and exhausting account of how this particular player came to be.

[Romann Weber · Rating 4 out of 5]

Brad Mehldau approaches this autobiographical book as a Bildungsroman, a type of novel that follows the main character as he or she receives an education (in some form) and matures to a certain point, where the story ends. This is part one of Brad Mehldau's treatment of his own story as a Bildungsroman, which takes us up to his mid-twenties, when there's apparently still some learning left to be done before the story's over.

He's very explicit about this Bildung concept, so much so that it starts to feel like a gimmick after a while as it appears throughout the book. Indeed, the approach to the book overall is interesting if not always completely successful, but the book's best elements more than make up for its lesser ones.

The things that work best are Mehldau's reports of his most raw and vulnerable moments. He's very frank about his experience struggling with his sexual identity, the sexual abuse that he suffered, and his struggles with heroin addiction and other substance abuse. The passages that explore these topics are by far the book's standout points, and they feature writing that's on par with some of the best novels I've read. It's often harrowing and funny at the same time. These sections are remarkably well done.

On the opposite end are sections of prose of such turgidness—such as when he's discussing literary and art criticism at length in a manner that essentially apes the dry, borderline inscrutable academic style of that type of writing—that it seems like an exercise just to show that he can do it. These sections are reasonably good essays for an appropriately chosen journal but make for some head-scratching (or hair-pulling) reading in the context of the rest of the book. These lesser moments make up chapters that are easily skippable on a subsequent reading, but while making it through the book for the first time, I wondered what Mehldau was going for.

Somewhere in the middle of these extremes are his takes on music. Oddly enough, the thing that Mehldau is known best for actually winds up having less impact than I would have expected. He mentions a lot of music that influenced him and uses dream metaphors to describe the experience of music. His firsthand reports of the New York jazz scene in the late 80s and early 90s are interesting. But I actually came away from the book not knowing that much about his experience of music from an emotional standpoint. That may have less to do with Mehldau's writing and more to do with the inherent difficulty of writing about music (or dancing about architecture). Even so, I would love to know much more about Mehldau's thought process when playing or improvising, which might be more easily approachable in writing.

It's when the story becomes truly personal that it shines brightest, coming through so honestly that I felt like I was sharing his experience. That's no small feat.

Mehldau is a complicated and intelligent person. The sense I get from this book is that, even though he has healed considerably and pulled himself out of his earlier nadir, he's not yet fully integrated, or at least his integration is not fully in evidence in this book. (Hence part one?) But boy, what talent this guy has. He's got a lot to say, and when he lets down his guard, he says it as well as any writer could.

[Renato · Rating 5 out of 5]

When I saw the title of Brad Mehldau's memoir, "Building a Personal Canon," I thought it was going to be mostly about his experience as a music listener and what he personally relates to the most and why.

While that is certainly part of it, early on the book Mehldau explains the concept of this volume of his autobiography: "bildungsroman," a term that sounded familiar, which probably means I was taught it in school and forgot what it meant. I'll remember it now. This particular "coming of age" story covers his childhood through early 20's.

I was surprised and impressed by Mehldau's beautiful writing style and by his interesting organizational choices of this story. One of favorite elements from the book are his "replays," where he details a haunting experience from childhood and then reimagines it in how he wishes it would've happened. As someone who struggles with these kinds of fantasies myself, I related powerfully and even now feel inspired to write a few of these down. Perhaps it's cathartic to put it down on paper as a way to get closure!

What also stays with me is his approach to his childhood traumas of sexual abuse and bullying. He details them graphically and evocatively for several pages when they occur in his life's chronology, but then refers to them over and over again when writing about his young adult years.

I immensely enjoyed that I never knew what Mehldau was going to throw at me next. It could be a scientific breakdown of different "cliques" in the Gen X high school and what constitutes "prog rock," pages of analysis of Ulysses by James Joyce (which I wish had existed when I was bullshitting my way through an English term paper where I ostensibly read and analyzed this book), describing his philosophical and political evolution (I was delighted to see Theodor Adorno's name resurface, which took me back to my college Music Philosophy course), to his deep introspection (both dreams and those replays I mentioned).

Fans of his who are more interested in an account of his musical growth will find this, too. He discusses all the music he loved as a kid (classical, "classic rock" which I guess would've been new back then, and of course jazz), the piano players he studied, his musical education, jazz culture, etc. Naturally, I enjoyed that.

Come to think of it, I've enjoyed Brad Mehldau's piano playing for over 20 years, which is over half of my life. I've loved jazz for even longer, but I don't think you need to be a Mehldau fan or a even a jazz fan to enjoy this book.
For the most interestingly-crafted memoir I've ever read: ★★★★★

[Henry Begler · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brad Mehldau, in addition to being a one of my favorite pianists, has always struck me as an uncommonly sensitive and intelligent guy so I was really excited when I heard he had a memoir coming out. I’ve read memoirs by Charles Mingus and Miles Davis and other legends, and they are amazing looks into a vital period that produced some of the greatest American music of all time. But I’ve never read one from a more modern player, that has to grapple with the question of what you do in the afterglow of that period, when it can seem like there’s nothing new to say.

The book is self-consciously structured as a bildungsroman and you can see the influence of writers like Herman Hesse and Thomas Mann. He writes about his childhood and adolescence in a very fearless and perceptive way, and gives a great account of not only the music and art that influenced him, but how he alternately embraced and wrestled with it and came out the other side with his own style, as well as a really exciting portrait of the NY jazz scene in the 90s. It made me want to put the book down and go practice, which is perhaps the best compliment I could give (though, as a very very late starter, it pains me to know that I have years and years to go before I can break down the barrier between my mind and the keys).

Also, thank god for the LA public library, who ordered this book per my request, because I couldn’t really afford the academic cover price ($50!!). I’m sure there are behind-the-scenes reasons why this book came out on such a small imprint. If it afforded him the freedom to write the way he wants I’d say that was the right move, because I loved this book. But it’s sort of a shame because I think this should be a battered paperback in the hands of every young jazz musician. As it is you have the curious feeling of reading something that just came out but is already sort of a cult book, like getting a sneak peak of the NYRB classics 2050 publishing schedule.

[Kim · Rating 5 out of 5]

Reading this memoir by jazz pianist extraordinaire Brad Mehldau was an amazing experience for me. I have intensely loved music since I was very young, so much so that I wanted to be a musician and studied music in undergrad. Alas, my music career never took off, but the intense love for music did not subside. Brad Mehldau has been one of my favorite musicians for many years. In this book he tells the story of how he became the musician he is today, giving details about the music he listened to and played over the years, everything from popular music he heard on the radio as a kid to the classical music he played while growing up, to learning how to play jazz on the fly with other musicians in high school, college, and beyond. He describes vivid memories of when he first heard certain pieces of music and the intense reactions he had to that music, and how it changed his life. This brought back so many similar seismic musical experiences I’ve had, even with some of the same music (prog rock as a gateway to classical and jazz)! I loved reading about all the details he points out about specific musicians and specific solos or comping on specific recordings—all these details that thrill my inner music nerd. Reading this was so satisfying and reminded me of my amazing time as a music student. It is just really thrilling to get to know so much detail about the musical influences of my favorite musician! Mehldau also describes other impactful factors in his life including being bullied, being abused by a school principal, and a terrible harrowing struggle with drugs, alcohol, and heroin addiction. Mehldau’s writing is so honest and unguarded that I sometimes felt like I was reading something private—like I had found his diary—creating a sense of intimacy, or an act of soul-baring trust that he offers his readers, which is really what he gives us in his glorious music and is probably part of why people like me are so moved by it.

[Dominic H · Rating 4 out of 5]

Meldau’s ‘bildungsroman’ is a fascinating, moving, devastatingly honest portrait of his formative years. It’s gripping enough to be a novel - formidably talented pianist (in multiple genres from an early age) tries to come to terms with his adoption, suffers sexual abuse at school and battles heroin addiction. It’s also genuinely revealing about the artist Meldau is and the diversity of influences are fascinating. He comes over as insecure, modest but also deeply intelligent and intellectual. It’s an instructive comparison with the Stephen Hough memoir, published earlier this year and reviewed a few books below. Also thrilling to hear that Meldau is already writing more.
Unlike Stephen Hough (published by Faber) I do wonder if Meldau has been well served by his decision to go with Equinox. Equinox is an academic publisher who do admittedly have a large jazz and popular music list (Meldau’s book is published as part of its ‘Popular Music History’ list whose series editor is the respected academic, writer and broadcaster, Alyn Shipton). You’ll either like the look of their books or not but they do have an academic feel: hardbacks with no dustjacket but an all encompassing photo covering front and back. Pretty small print and unbelievably no proper eBook (Equinox offer a PDF for the same price as the printed book). Unfortunately they also come with academic pricing. I eventually found it cheaper at Blackwells but the book retails for about £30 even at Amazon, putting it very much in the specialist and enthusiast bracket. This is a real pity, the book definitely deserves a wider audience than the one I feel it will receive.

[Gerald · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a beautifully written, at times deeply philosophical memoir. It's also very personal and Mehldau is very open about his sexuality, heroin addiction and relationships.

But it's also very much about growing up in the 90s, and about jazz. He was the ultimate musical integrity, in that the artists that he likes (and he grew up loving Van Halen, Rush and Billy Joel) he still loves, even though he also loves Brahms, Beethoven, Bud Powell, John Coltrane and Keith Jarrett. This is building a musical canon, not just being taken by whims and popularity.

He also came of age in a great time of transition - getting to play with and be inspired by masters like Hank Jones and Junior Mance in NYC at a time when they were playing a few gigs a week at it's many jazz clubs (hardly any of which still exist) and joining Josh Redman's breakthrough band in 94 (from which he was subsequently fired due to his Heroin addiction and has hooked up with again recently for two lovely albums). Old Tigers, Young Lions indeed.

You probably do have to have an interest in Jazz, but if so its thoroughly recommended. And enjoy going back and listening to all the albums referenced as well, because writing is only a part-time thing for Brad Mehldau - he is one of the greatest musicians playing jazz today.

[Nate Bloch · Rating 3 out of 5]

Anyone who’s spent some of the last couple decades listening to Brad Mehldau’s music is inevitably going to be curious about the life of jazz’s most famous pianist. And while I found all the painful material about his youth, his battles with addiction, and the trauma that came from abuse captivating, as someone who loves jazz music it left me wishing for more depth about his actual evolution as a pianist. It seems he essentially came out of the womb playing piano as a virtuosic prodigy with a little help from a few teachers. But how much did he practice as a teenager? What did he practice? How did working relentlessly at the piano as a young person affect his development as a social being? Did his ability come to him effortlessly or did he have to work at it? None of this is explored, which felt strange since everyone reading this has at least some familiarity with his music and would thus be at least a little curious as to how he became the world’s most esteemed jazz pianist by age 24. Mehldau is clearly a very well read, thoughtful, self effacing person who doesn’t put too much stock in pursuit of vanity. But it would’ve been nice to learn a little bit about how an incredible talent is cultivated. Even geniuses have to break a sweat every now and then.

[Patrick Hanlon · Rating 5 out of 5]

Just in under the wire: book of the year.

As a walk through Mehldau’s musical development and apprenticeship, it is a comprehensive masterwork that I will skim for an extensive discography. Whether referring to his contemporaries or the influences on drums and piano, Formation rivals Elvis Costello’s memoir for its abundance of insight and appreciation for his influences. Also, I shared one passage of the book with a friend who is not much of a jazz listener but he found Mehldau’s discussion of Rush as the apt description he would cite the next time he was asked why he liked the band.

Passages discussing creativity and self-formulation were insightful and raw at times. Beyond that his passages about beauty raise valuable counterarguments at a time when we are curious to see what AI could concoct. Mehldau makes it clear the that spontaneous human invention and the wrestling with self and colleagues are all vital to the creation of jazz.

Lastly there is the challenging passages of the book about abuse and addiction. I was not anticipating this but accepted it as a significant part of his life and arc. As with everything else in the book, his candor, economy with language and insight deepen these passages but excavate wisdom from them as well.

A profoundly crafted book.

[Christopher Jones · Rating 5 out of 5]

Riveting. I’ve read many music biographies in my lifetime but never have I read a musician autobiography quite like this one.
Having read most of Mehldau’s liner notes for his trio recordings through the years,along with some other music related essays he has on his website, I had an idea what I was in for with this book.
However, I was not expecting this. In being extremely open about his past traumas, music criticism, personal philosophies, drug addiction and more, I now feel that I have a better understanding of Brad Mehldau, the artist, thus giving me an even deeper appreciation for all the great music he’s created over the last 30+ years.
This is only part one of his story thus far and I hope that part two is not far behind. If you are fan of his music then this book is a must read.

[Omniurge · Rating 2 out of 5]

Brad Mehldau is indisputably a great part of my life, and has been since my early teens. Certainly this book does a good job at painting in broad strokes the NY jazz scene of the 80s and 90s, particularly with reference to "schools of jazz." But the interpolated dreams are weak, discourse on Bloom ("anxiety of influence"), Mann, Joyce under-cooked, and quality of language at best invisible. It gets sleazy in a way that's not quite tasteful. Whatever. I love Brad.

[Eddie Pimentel · Rating 5 out of 5]

Beautifully written. The story of his first 25 years so eloquently laid out with quotes and references of other great writers. Any fan of jazz or how artists think should read this.

[Jaimeoka · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.9