I always think I’ll just ‘be British’ about things when I finally receive the hardcopy of a book. I’m not one to jump up and down or pump my fist in the air – that kinda thing seems a bit ridiculous usually. But then the postman drops a copy of something I’ve committed a year and a half to through the door…And as soon as it’s open I can’t help but bound around like a dog that just found the perfect stick. It’s a genuine thrill.
How does it look? Even the cover felt good in my hand – back flap and front flap giving a brief description of the contents, then delving in, viewing the photos, flipping through the entries. This is the moment of truth of course: when I read it in book form and notice things where I go “darn! How did I let that through?”
I’m already aware of two errors, both wholly my own: one is a reference on page 57 to Vicki Peterson of The Bangles – her brother is called Dave Peterson, I managed to drop the wrong name in during a re-edit. The other was deliberate: Radieux Radio spoke with me about working with Thurston recently and we agreed we wouldn’t mention other upcoming releases planned for after Rock N Roll Consciousness…But I didn’t want to lose the discussion of working with Thurston in Paris, so I kept it in the section on Rock N Roll Consciousness because I felt it was still an enjoyable image and description of the man at work in 2016. If those are the only errors I’ll get down on my knees and thank the gods though I was very sheepish and apologetic when Dave Markey pointed out the mistake with the name.
That’s the bittersweetness of this spell: it’s amazing to see the finished object, but after the tens of thousands of emails and messages; after whittling the 300,000 words of notes and interviews down into a coherent work; following the five or six rounds of editing and review by multiple people; after all the myriad small tasks needed to bring a book into the world…This is the time when I’ll hear what slipped through the net; those moments; the two words in 100,102 that aren’t right; or the necessary cut that someone in their heart of hearts would wish I’d left in…But it doesn’t rob the moment of pleasure. Never. In this era of virtual everything, nothing can beat physical reality. A book in hand is worth 12 on the web.