Moreso than the fans who are equally aware of the era’s greatness, music critics have somehow made the 1970′s a hardfought discussion time and time again in terms of who were truly great and who are worthy of pedestals in each genre’s respective Hall of Fame. That would perhaps be true, if not for our current state of everyone and their mother being able to form a band, create a Reverbnation page, book a show in a tiny puissant venue, and hope that the money will roll right in. So the consensus seems to be that the most significant contribution to music from this time is that these bands were all creating impressive works that are so exciting, less for their own artistic merits and more for how these records were made. This was conventional wisdom (with certain exceptions, like Bruce Springsteen) to any critic if you asked them closer to the era than those who’ve picked up on the records of the era second-hand.
That last part is emphasized in the book’s epilogue, where Hermes muses on how bands are still doing it themselves, and more willing to explore the possibilities of crossing-over genres so that we can have things like electro-punk and dance-rock. But where Hermes does an excellent job of recreating a sense of community so important to the arts scenes in the book’s middle, the book begins and ends in legendary (and widely common knowledge at this point) coincidences pointed in obnoxious matter-of-fact narration, and an epilogue that is more interested in putting the author into the story where he could not before and interviewing some of today’s artists who offer halfhearted musings on what a similar sense of community means to them today.
Still, there is much to love here, whether you are familiar with these stories already or not.
After the Jump, what started as love will go to a building on fire.




