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Songbook
“All I have to say about these songs is that I love them, and want to sing along to them, and force other people to listen to them, and get cross when these other people don’t like them as much as I do.” —Nick Hornby, from Songbook
Songs, songwriters, and why and how they get under our skin… Songbook is Nick Hornby’s labor of love. A shrewd, funny, and completely unique collection of musings on pop music, why it’s good, what makes us listen and love it so much, and the ways in which it attaches itself to our lives—all with the beat of a perfectly mastered mix tape.
Songs, songwriters, and why and how they get under our skin… Songbook is Nick Hornby’s labor of love. A shrewd, funny, and completely unique collection of musings on pop music, why it’s good, what makes us listen and love it so much, and the ways in which it attaches itself to our lives—all with the beat of a perfectly mastered mix tape.
207 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2002
About the author
Nick Hornby
118 books9,744 followersNick Hornby is the author of the novels A Long Way Down, Slam, How to Be Good, High Fidelity, and About a Boy, and the memoir Fever Pitch. He is also the author of Songbook, a finalist for a National Book Critics Circle Award, Shakespeare Wrote for Money, and The Polysyllabic Spree, as well as the editor of the short-story collection Speaking with the Angel. He is a recipient of the American Academy of Arts and Letters’ E. M. Forster Award and the winner of the 2003 Orange Word International Writers’ London Award. Among his many other honors and awards, four of his titles have been named New York Times Notable Books. A film written by Hornby, An Education – shown at the Sundance Film Festival to great acclaim – was the lead movie at the 2009 Toronto Film Festival and distributed by Sony that fall. That same September, the author published his latest novel, Juliet, Naked to wide acclaim. Hornby lives in North London.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 676 reviews
March 18, 2016
Nick Hornby contemplates the souls connection to music, and how it shapes our lives and culture while sharing with us 31 of his own favourite tunes and his personal connection to them. Hornby's essays, as with all his novels, are beautifully written with equal parts humour and insight and even if you’re unfamiliar with the song in that chapter, completely relatable.
I made a point to listen to every song while reading each chapter which added to my enjoyment as well as introduced me to some gems I’d never heard before.
A must read for those with music running through their veins.
I made a point to listen to every song while reading each chapter which added to my enjoyment as well as introduced me to some gems I’d never heard before.
A must read for those with music running through their veins.
September 4, 2007
the original hardcover edition is the one to get. it's all made up nice to resemble a mix tape you made back in high school and handed, sweaty palm and all, to the girl you were madly in love with. she was all long brown hair and old striped izod shirts that were hand-me-downs from her older brother or father. and afterwards. days later. you sat on a guardrail in a parking lot and talked about the songs. and the sun was setting over telephone wires on beat-up cars and still. it was a perfect landscape. and you held hands and looked her in the eye and watched the last light leave the day. that is pretty much this book.
November 1, 2007
turns out i don't give a shit what nick hornby's favorite songs are.
April 12, 2010
A couple of times a year I make myself a tape to play in the car, a tape full of all the new songs I've loved over the previous few months, and every time I finish one I can't believe they'll be another. Yet there always is, and I can't wait for the next one; you need only a few hundred more things like that, and you've got a life worth living.
I love Nick Hornby. I love his voice. And I love that he's so neurotically obsessive about the things that he loves.
Here he dissects 31 of his favorite songs. I have a hard time believing that these are his actual favorite 31 songs. I felt like they were 31 good lead-ins to 31 essays, in a way. He had some points to make about music, and these particular songs, or artists helped to illustrate them.
I was most intrigued by the song "notes." I looked up each one on You Tube so that I could hear them as I read. He listed pretty specific details on some, and it was fun to catch on to what he was talking about. I was introduced to some songs and artists I'd never heard. Some struck a chord with me, some didn't. I made a list of some I'd like to hear again. (OK music freaks, I know you want specifics...how about Rufus Wainwright doing "One Man Guy"...or "Caravan" by Van Morrison?)
Hornby here writes like a magazine music critic. He likes to explain the "why" behind a song. He reminds me of a Biology professor, carefully dissecting a frog. There's a nerd, and a poet within him.
Only three stars because there were some uninteresting parts (did I really need a whole essay about why Los Lobos makes a good boxed set, but not Stevie Nicks? Aren't boxed sets already dated anyway, in this day of digital downloads?) But there were some highs, too, including Hornby devoting an essay to the musical interests of his autistic son--a very tender moment. Love you, Nick! You can make me a mix anyday.
I love Nick Hornby. I love his voice. And I love that he's so neurotically obsessive about the things that he loves.
Here he dissects 31 of his favorite songs. I have a hard time believing that these are his actual favorite 31 songs. I felt like they were 31 good lead-ins to 31 essays, in a way. He had some points to make about music, and these particular songs, or artists helped to illustrate them.
I was most intrigued by the song "notes." I looked up each one on You Tube so that I could hear them as I read. He listed pretty specific details on some, and it was fun to catch on to what he was talking about. I was introduced to some songs and artists I'd never heard. Some struck a chord with me, some didn't. I made a list of some I'd like to hear again. (OK music freaks, I know you want specifics...how about Rufus Wainwright doing "One Man Guy"...or "Caravan" by Van Morrison?)
Hornby here writes like a magazine music critic. He likes to explain the "why" behind a song. He reminds me of a Biology professor, carefully dissecting a frog. There's a nerd, and a poet within him.
Only three stars because there were some uninteresting parts (did I really need a whole essay about why Los Lobos makes a good boxed set, but not Stevie Nicks? Aren't boxed sets already dated anyway, in this day of digital downloads?) But there were some highs, too, including Hornby devoting an essay to the musical interests of his autistic son--a very tender moment. Love you, Nick! You can make me a mix anyday.
June 29, 2020
Reading '31 Songs' is a bit like how I might imagine going out to the pub with Nick Hornby (in itself no bad thing I'm sure) just for a couple of beers and a general, not hugely insightful, chat about music - and therein lies the problem.
Whilst ostensibly a book about 31 songs - this comprises vague ideas and thoughts sometimes tenuously connected (although not always) with each song , but that's about it - there's nothing seemingly passionate or heartfelt concerning said songs.
'31 Songs' is therefore not ostensibly bad in itself, there is just a lack of focus and direction - this feels very much like Hornby treading water and is certainly here not at his best.
In summary - a missed opportunity.
Whilst ostensibly a book about 31 songs - this comprises vague ideas and thoughts sometimes tenuously connected (although not always) with each song , but that's about it - there's nothing seemingly passionate or heartfelt concerning said songs.
'31 Songs' is therefore not ostensibly bad in itself, there is just a lack of focus and direction - this feels very much like Hornby treading water and is certainly here not at his best.
In summary - a missed opportunity.
June 28, 2008
Absolute shit! Some terrible, terrible song choices - Nelly Furtado!! It's embarrasing! Like hearing your dad telling you he watched the fratellis on Jools Holland and thought they were great! Awful, awful book!
September 23, 2020
La educación sentimental
Amo a Hornby, todas las novelas que leí de él o las películas de las que escribió el guión me parecieron siempre muy buenas. Es un escritor que sale de la endogamia, no habla tanto de libros y escritores sino de fútbol y música y eso logra bajarlo al ras de la propia vida y convertirlo en el rey de la onda.
Digámoslo claro, este libro se lo publicaron porque es él, porque sabe que su firma basta como para vender varios ejemplares de lo que sea; aunque se trate, como es este caso, del repaso de 31 de sus canciones favoritas, o las que marcaron su vida. Obviamente, como todo buen libro, no es solamente eso, las canciones son una excusa para hablar de una filosofía y experiencias de vida. No falta la canción que elige para su funeral, la que escuchaba en su infancia y las que escucha de adulto. Es muy divertido cuando habla de Heartbreaker de Zeppelin y conmovedor cuando habla de la preferida de su hijo con autismo. Fue publicado en el 2002 y en un capítulo hace un alegato sobre las disquerías independientes y queda casi un testimonio arqueológico.
Está bien el libro, es simpático, pero la verdad es que se me hizo un poco largo. Hay una playlist de Spotify con las canciones mencionadas en este libro que está buena para ir escuchándola a medida que se avanza con el libro.
Amo a Hornby, todas las novelas que leí de él o las películas de las que escribió el guión me parecieron siempre muy buenas. Es un escritor que sale de la endogamia, no habla tanto de libros y escritores sino de fútbol y música y eso logra bajarlo al ras de la propia vida y convertirlo en el rey de la onda.
Digámoslo claro, este libro se lo publicaron porque es él, porque sabe que su firma basta como para vender varios ejemplares de lo que sea; aunque se trate, como es este caso, del repaso de 31 de sus canciones favoritas, o las que marcaron su vida. Obviamente, como todo buen libro, no es solamente eso, las canciones son una excusa para hablar de una filosofía y experiencias de vida. No falta la canción que elige para su funeral, la que escuchaba en su infancia y las que escucha de adulto. Es muy divertido cuando habla de Heartbreaker de Zeppelin y conmovedor cuando habla de la preferida de su hijo con autismo. Fue publicado en el 2002 y en un capítulo hace un alegato sobre las disquerías independientes y queda casi un testimonio arqueológico.
Está bien el libro, es simpático, pero la verdad es que se me hizo un poco largo. Hay una playlist de Spotify con las canciones mencionadas en este libro que está buena para ir escuchándola a medida que se avanza con el libro.
October 2, 2019
A esta altura de mi vida, reconozco que no me gusta tanto la música en sí como la idea de la música. O sea que, en general, no disfruto tanto escuchando música como escuchando hablar sobre ella, o leyendo sobre ella. Y aunque me interesa bastante el aspecto digamos formal del tema, del que algo entiendo pero no demasiado, prefiero por sobre ellos otro tipo de análisis, más oblicuos, más filosóficos, más personales, menos verdaderos, como los que intenta Nick Hornby en este libro.
A Hornby lo conocía, por supuesto, por Alta fidelidad, un libro repleto de nombres de canciones, y de músicos, y de ránkings, y repleto de la idea de que los gustos musicales son algo importante y trascendental. Había imaginado que Hornby sería una especie de melómano consumado, y que este libro supondría al menos una dimensión de análisis erudito. Pero nada que ver. Hornby se declara desconocedor de la materia formal, o al menos no está interesado en ella. Ni en ella ni en la importancia histórica o cultural de las piezas que analiza. Su lista es enteramente personal. En cada uno de estos treinta y un ensayos, aborda una canción que le resulta íntimamente relevante, y explica por qué. En el primero de todos, dedicado a “Thunder Road”, de Springsteen, nos dice:
¿Qué querrá decir todo esto? Ciertamente, nada que sea verificable en la canción; no es un análisis musical, ni siquiera lírico. Es apenas la impresión de Hornby al escucharla, un enunciado que no tiene propiamente un valor de verdad. No significa nada, excepto que casualmente venga a completar la impresión que uno mismo tenía de la canción antes de escucharla. Lo que la música puede llegar a evocar pertenece al terreno de lo inefable, pero quizás se le pueden poner palabras que de alguna manera se aproximan a la experiencia.
No es, para usar los términos saussureanos, una relación entre significante y significado, uno a uno, sino algo más cercano a la imagen poética y a la mística. La canción produce algo en quien la oye, algo que podríamos caracterizar como una especie de “imagen”; las palabras de Hornby, sin un referente concreto, quizás evoquen una imagen que se aproxime a la anterior. O quizás no lo logren, en tu caso, y no te digan nada.
Por mi parte, de cualquier manera, no es tampoco esto lo que más me interesa del libro. De las treinta y una canciones que lista Hornby, apenas sí conocía y había escuchado seis. El resto las oí en simultáneo con el ensayo, o después de leerlo; en general, ninguna me pareció la gran cosa. Terminé por darme cuenta de que estos ensayos bien podrían prescindir de las canciones; lo mismo hubiera sido para mí si se referían a canciones inexistentes, a canciones imaginarias, como los libros que de tanto en tanto pretendía reseñar Borges.
Cuando digo que este es el tipo de análisis que me gusta, no estoy queriendo decir que la música, o el arte en general, solo puedan comprenderse desde un punto de vista individual y subjetivo, sin atender a las virtudes de la composición. No creo en eso, para nada. Lo que digo es que el ejercicio de la crítica, en el rubro que sea, debe ser considerado como otra rama de la literatura, capaz de los mismos logros artísticos, y que no debe juzgarse en relación con sus referentes.
¿Importa, digamos, si el Julio César de Shakespeare se parece al Julio César histórico? ¿Importa si lo que un crítico escribe sobre la obra de Shakespeare se parece a la obra de Shakespeare? En uno y otro caso, me parece, lo que les pido es que las representaciones estén bien escritas y que sean inteligentes, no que se me asemejen a otro objeto. En este espíritu, leí el libro de Hornby no porque me interese la música, sino porque me interesa la literatura.
A Hornby lo conocía, por supuesto, por Alta fidelidad, un libro repleto de nombres de canciones, y de músicos, y de ránkings, y repleto de la idea de que los gustos musicales son algo importante y trascendental. Había imaginado que Hornby sería una especie de melómano consumado, y que este libro supondría al menos una dimensión de análisis erudito. Pero nada que ver. Hornby se declara desconocedor de la materia formal, o al menos no está interesado en ella. Ni en ella ni en la importancia histórica o cultural de las piezas que analiza. Su lista es enteramente personal. En cada uno de estos treinta y un ensayos, aborda una canción que le resulta íntimamente relevante, y explica por qué. En el primero de todos, dedicado a “Thunder Road”, de Springsteen, nos dice:
“Una de las cosas fantásticas de la canción tal como aparece en Born to Run es que los primeros compases, con una armónica jadeante y un precioso piano dolorido, suenan en realidad como refiriéndose a algo acontecido antes de empezar la grabación, algo trascendental y triste pero que no destruye toda esperanza”
¿Qué querrá decir todo esto? Ciertamente, nada que sea verificable en la canción; no es un análisis musical, ni siquiera lírico. Es apenas la impresión de Hornby al escucharla, un enunciado que no tiene propiamente un valor de verdad. No significa nada, excepto que casualmente venga a completar la impresión que uno mismo tenía de la canción antes de escucharla. Lo que la música puede llegar a evocar pertenece al terreno de lo inefable, pero quizás se le pueden poner palabras que de alguna manera se aproximan a la experiencia.
No es, para usar los términos saussureanos, una relación entre significante y significado, uno a uno, sino algo más cercano a la imagen poética y a la mística. La canción produce algo en quien la oye, algo que podríamos caracterizar como una especie de “imagen”; las palabras de Hornby, sin un referente concreto, quizás evoquen una imagen que se aproxime a la anterior. O quizás no lo logren, en tu caso, y no te digan nada.
Por mi parte, de cualquier manera, no es tampoco esto lo que más me interesa del libro. De las treinta y una canciones que lista Hornby, apenas sí conocía y había escuchado seis. El resto las oí en simultáneo con el ensayo, o después de leerlo; en general, ninguna me pareció la gran cosa. Terminé por darme cuenta de que estos ensayos bien podrían prescindir de las canciones; lo mismo hubiera sido para mí si se referían a canciones inexistentes, a canciones imaginarias, como los libros que de tanto en tanto pretendía reseñar Borges.
Cuando digo que este es el tipo de análisis que me gusta, no estoy queriendo decir que la música, o el arte en general, solo puedan comprenderse desde un punto de vista individual y subjetivo, sin atender a las virtudes de la composición. No creo en eso, para nada. Lo que digo es que el ejercicio de la crítica, en el rubro que sea, debe ser considerado como otra rama de la literatura, capaz de los mismos logros artísticos, y que no debe juzgarse en relación con sus referentes.
¿Importa, digamos, si el Julio César de Shakespeare se parece al Julio César histórico? ¿Importa si lo que un crítico escribe sobre la obra de Shakespeare se parece a la obra de Shakespeare? En uno y otro caso, me parece, lo que les pido es que las representaciones estén bien escritas y que sean inteligentes, no que se me asemejen a otro objeto. En este espíritu, leí el libro de Hornby no porque me interese la música, sino porque me interesa la literatura.
March 4, 2013
“You could, if you were perverse, argue that you’ll never hear England by listening to English pop music. The Beatles and the Stones were, in their formative years, American cover bands that sang with American accents; the Sex Pistols were The Stooges with bad teeth and a canny manager, and Bowie was an art-school version of Jackson Browne until he saw the New York Dolls.”
So begins Nick Hornby’s chapter on why England’s national anthem should change (shouldn’t they all?) from “God Save the Queen” to Ian Dury & The Blockheads “Reasons to be Cheerful.” And he lays down astute reasoning behind his wry suggestions.
In Hornby’s personal survey on music, “Songbook,” he ponders many ideas, among them how many Dylan discs are really enough. Apparently five is all you need even though he amassed 20+ discs and collections as we all did. And he’s right; he’s right about so many songs and artists and pop movements that you can’t help but stop and cue up Youtube. You’ll even cue up “Late for the Sky” by Jackson Browne just to see if Hornby’s post-40s sensibilities align with your growth from The Ramones to songs with meaning.
Often they do. Hornby’s re-examined musical history is right on. “I can’t afford to be a pop snob any more, and if there is a piece of music out there that has the ability to move me, then I want to hear it, no matter who’s made it.” In the case of Hornby’s re-assessment of Browne and the “delicate Californian flowers” and his cross reference of Mojo Magazine’s top 100 Greatest Punk Singles as proof that sometimes we get some music at certain times in our lives and sometimes we’re just not attuned to other efforts is spot on. He’s right, there really isn’t 100 great punk singles, most are simple awful, but he does recognize it’s a moment in life that we hold dear. And then it’s time to move on.
Hornby’s “Songbook” isn’t clear-cutting nostalgia. He appreciates greatness and what moves us. “What must it have been like, to listen to “Like a Rolling Stone” in 1966, aged nineteen or twenty?” Hornby asks. “I heard “Anarchy in the UK” in 1976, aged nineteen, but the enormous power those records had then has mostly been lost now.” Songs got faster, louder, and shorter, so they lost the shock. Dylan, being Dylan, we mine it deeper, because it was meant to be mined. Or so we thought, and that may be why we get exhausted by ‘serious’ artists, Dylan, Zeppelin, Springsteen, until the fun is gone. As Hornby points out, “Like a Rolling Stone,” still sounds perfect. It just doesn’t sound fresh anymore.”
“Songbook” starts with an assessment of Springsteen and a mention of Dave Eggers’ theory that we play songs over and over because we have to ‘solve’ them. That may be true, but we still love the evanescence of what moves us. Then Hornby ends “Songbook” with a look at Patti Smith. “One of the things you can’t help but love about Smith is her relentless and incurable bohemianism, her assuaged thirst for everything connected to art and books and music. In this one evening she named-checked Virginia Woolf and Tom Verlaine, William Blake and Jerry Garcia, Graham Greene and William Burroughs.” While Springsteen worries about being The Boss, and as perfect as he can be, and he can be absolutely perfect, witness his song “The Rising” in response to 9/11, Smith on the other hand “seems blissfully untroubled about her status as an artist: she just is one, and it requires no further contemplation on her part.”
Hornby wrote that after seeing a transformative Patti Smith performance, and I’m convinced, as he was that night,that great artists, those that make us feel the music and art and writing channeled through them, make us all better human beings.
So begins Nick Hornby’s chapter on why England’s national anthem should change (shouldn’t they all?) from “God Save the Queen” to Ian Dury & The Blockheads “Reasons to be Cheerful.” And he lays down astute reasoning behind his wry suggestions.
In Hornby’s personal survey on music, “Songbook,” he ponders many ideas, among them how many Dylan discs are really enough. Apparently five is all you need even though he amassed 20+ discs and collections as we all did. And he’s right; he’s right about so many songs and artists and pop movements that you can’t help but stop and cue up Youtube. You’ll even cue up “Late for the Sky” by Jackson Browne just to see if Hornby’s post-40s sensibilities align with your growth from The Ramones to songs with meaning.
Often they do. Hornby’s re-examined musical history is right on. “I can’t afford to be a pop snob any more, and if there is a piece of music out there that has the ability to move me, then I want to hear it, no matter who’s made it.” In the case of Hornby’s re-assessment of Browne and the “delicate Californian flowers” and his cross reference of Mojo Magazine’s top 100 Greatest Punk Singles as proof that sometimes we get some music at certain times in our lives and sometimes we’re just not attuned to other efforts is spot on. He’s right, there really isn’t 100 great punk singles, most are simple awful, but he does recognize it’s a moment in life that we hold dear. And then it’s time to move on.
Hornby’s “Songbook” isn’t clear-cutting nostalgia. He appreciates greatness and what moves us. “What must it have been like, to listen to “Like a Rolling Stone” in 1966, aged nineteen or twenty?” Hornby asks. “I heard “Anarchy in the UK” in 1976, aged nineteen, but the enormous power those records had then has mostly been lost now.” Songs got faster, louder, and shorter, so they lost the shock. Dylan, being Dylan, we mine it deeper, because it was meant to be mined. Or so we thought, and that may be why we get exhausted by ‘serious’ artists, Dylan, Zeppelin, Springsteen, until the fun is gone. As Hornby points out, “Like a Rolling Stone,” still sounds perfect. It just doesn’t sound fresh anymore.”
“Songbook” starts with an assessment of Springsteen and a mention of Dave Eggers’ theory that we play songs over and over because we have to ‘solve’ them. That may be true, but we still love the evanescence of what moves us. Then Hornby ends “Songbook” with a look at Patti Smith. “One of the things you can’t help but love about Smith is her relentless and incurable bohemianism, her assuaged thirst for everything connected to art and books and music. In this one evening she named-checked Virginia Woolf and Tom Verlaine, William Blake and Jerry Garcia, Graham Greene and William Burroughs.” While Springsteen worries about being The Boss, and as perfect as he can be, and he can be absolutely perfect, witness his song “The Rising” in response to 9/11, Smith on the other hand “seems blissfully untroubled about her status as an artist: she just is one, and it requires no further contemplation on her part.”
Hornby wrote that after seeing a transformative Patti Smith performance, and I’m convinced, as he was that night,that great artists, those that make us feel the music and art and writing channeled through them, make us all better human beings.
November 4, 2013
(Reposting an old review)
A few pages into book brought me to the observation. It’s not the typical Nick Hornby piece. Don’t expect to find yourself in the psyche of some middle-aged guy coming to terms with his personal foibles and neuroses. The book is a collection of essays on selected songs that Hornby relates to certain moments in his life – his personal soundtrack so to speak.
Granted, the topic is boring or, at the very least, uninspiring. His song selection is quite esoteric. Only two of the songs and a third of the artists rang a bell. And what do I care about Nick Hornby’s life? I read books to amuse myself on their content, not to catch a glimpse of the author’s adolescence or religious beliefs.
Nevertheless, there’s one thing that I could not deny. Reading the book was sheer pleasure.
I guess that’s what makes a writer like Nick Hornby so popular. He can captivate his audience even with the most mundane topic at hand.
Somewhere in the book, Hornby refers to himself as a “prose stylist”. I consider him more of a “prose stylist extraordinaire”. It is not the idea he is communicating that piques my interest, but the manner through which he communicates them. I end up reading the book for the sake of reading, as if reading itself provided a satisfaction separate and distinct from the ideas Hornby wishes to convey. Next thing I know, anecdotes on Hornby’s first visit to America or his inspiration for a particular chapter of High Fidelity have become as enticing as a tall tale of witchcraft and wizardry.
It’s like going to a restaurant and, for one reason or another, choosing the fish over the steak, despite knowing that steak has more inherent taste and flavor. You expect to be moderately sated by a bland entrée that surprisingly outclasses even the finest of beef.
That’s what Hornby does. He evokes the sublime out of the ordinary. He is a literary master chef who magically seasons a flavorless main ingredient with a spice repertoire of wit, sarcasm and an uncanny use of metaphors.
In his review of the song So I’ll Run, Hornby himself cleverly discusses this dilemma of writing about the ordinary –
“ It’s all very well writing about elves and dragons and goddesses rising out of the ground and the rest of it – who couldn’t do that and make it colorful . . . But writing about pubs and struggling singer-songwriters – well, that’s hard work. Nothing happens. Nothing happens, and yet, somehow, I have to persuade you that something is happening somewhere in the hearts and minds of my characters, even though they’re just standing there drinking beer and making jokes . . . ”
In differentiating music and lyrics in another review, he says “music is such a pure form of self-expression, and lyrics, because they consist of words, are so impure, and songwriters . . . find that, even though they can produce both, words will always let you down. One half of [the] art is aspiring towards the condition of the other half, and that must be weird, to feel so divinely inspired and so fallibly human, all at the same time. Maybe it’s only songwriters who have ever had any inkling of what Jesus felt of a bad day.”
See what I mean.
Hence, after going through the entire book once and selected chapters several times, I still find myself lifting the book from my shelf and revisiting a chapter or two – for the sake of sheer hedonism.
A few pages into book brought me to the observation. It’s not the typical Nick Hornby piece. Don’t expect to find yourself in the psyche of some middle-aged guy coming to terms with his personal foibles and neuroses. The book is a collection of essays on selected songs that Hornby relates to certain moments in his life – his personal soundtrack so to speak.
Granted, the topic is boring or, at the very least, uninspiring. His song selection is quite esoteric. Only two of the songs and a third of the artists rang a bell. And what do I care about Nick Hornby’s life? I read books to amuse myself on their content, not to catch a glimpse of the author’s adolescence or religious beliefs.
Nevertheless, there’s one thing that I could not deny. Reading the book was sheer pleasure.
I guess that’s what makes a writer like Nick Hornby so popular. He can captivate his audience even with the most mundane topic at hand.
Somewhere in the book, Hornby refers to himself as a “prose stylist”. I consider him more of a “prose stylist extraordinaire”. It is not the idea he is communicating that piques my interest, but the manner through which he communicates them. I end up reading the book for the sake of reading, as if reading itself provided a satisfaction separate and distinct from the ideas Hornby wishes to convey. Next thing I know, anecdotes on Hornby’s first visit to America or his inspiration for a particular chapter of High Fidelity have become as enticing as a tall tale of witchcraft and wizardry.
It’s like going to a restaurant and, for one reason or another, choosing the fish over the steak, despite knowing that steak has more inherent taste and flavor. You expect to be moderately sated by a bland entrée that surprisingly outclasses even the finest of beef.
That’s what Hornby does. He evokes the sublime out of the ordinary. He is a literary master chef who magically seasons a flavorless main ingredient with a spice repertoire of wit, sarcasm and an uncanny use of metaphors.
In his review of the song So I’ll Run, Hornby himself cleverly discusses this dilemma of writing about the ordinary –
“ It’s all very well writing about elves and dragons and goddesses rising out of the ground and the rest of it – who couldn’t do that and make it colorful . . . But writing about pubs and struggling singer-songwriters – well, that’s hard work. Nothing happens. Nothing happens, and yet, somehow, I have to persuade you that something is happening somewhere in the hearts and minds of my characters, even though they’re just standing there drinking beer and making jokes . . . ”
In differentiating music and lyrics in another review, he says “music is such a pure form of self-expression, and lyrics, because they consist of words, are so impure, and songwriters . . . find that, even though they can produce both, words will always let you down. One half of [the] art is aspiring towards the condition of the other half, and that must be weird, to feel so divinely inspired and so fallibly human, all at the same time. Maybe it’s only songwriters who have ever had any inkling of what Jesus felt of a bad day.”
See what I mean.
Hence, after going through the entire book once and selected chapters several times, I still find myself lifting the book from my shelf and revisiting a chapter or two – for the sake of sheer hedonism.
September 22, 2007
Tal como su título ya da a entender, '31 canciones' se trata de una disección de 31 canciones que por diversos motivos han impactado y llegado al autor. No importa que la lista que ha escogido Hornby no tenga ningún parecido con la que hubiéramos escogido nosotros, ni que ni siquiera hayamos oído las canciones de las que habla, porque consigue transmitir perfectamente el amor que siente por estas canciones en concreto, y por la música en general, con un estilo que mezcla crítica musical, ensayo y autobiografía. Hay momentos verdaderamente memorables: como cuando defiende la "música pop" ante los que la consideran superficial y simplona; cuando relata el efecto que tiene la música en su hijo autista; cuando explica lo que es adorar un grupo que nadie conoce o descubrir una canción nueva que logra emocionarnos; cuando nos cuenta cómo en su juventud sólo adoraba (y se decidía a escuchar sólo) música "ruidosa", pero que con el pasar de los años ha ido perdiendo todos sus prejuicios musicales.
Sin embargo, mi momento preferido es cuando nos cuenta cómo podemos llegar a odiar una canción que habíamos descubierto por casualidad, simplemente porque la empiezan a poner a todas partes y a todas horas. Es algo que inevitablemente nos habrá pasado a muchos y algo que yo nunca hasta ahora me había parado a analizar. Hornby argumenta que es porque es imposible "amar o conectar con una música que está tan omnipresente como el monóxido de carbono", porque la música es algo que nos habla directamente a nosotros, sobre nuestra intimidad. Y a partir de aquí también he descubierto porque siempre es tan especial encontrar en la radio esa canción que para ti es en algun modo especial, simplemente porque es la oportunidad de compartir por una vez algo que tienes muy dentro, algo que te define como persona. Y por todo esto creo que es un libro imprescindible para todos los que aman la música.
Sin embargo, mi momento preferido es cuando nos cuenta cómo podemos llegar a odiar una canción que habíamos descubierto por casualidad, simplemente porque la empiezan a poner a todas partes y a todas horas. Es algo que inevitablemente nos habrá pasado a muchos y algo que yo nunca hasta ahora me había parado a analizar. Hornby argumenta que es porque es imposible "amar o conectar con una música que está tan omnipresente como el monóxido de carbono", porque la música es algo que nos habla directamente a nosotros, sobre nuestra intimidad. Y a partir de aquí también he descubierto porque siempre es tan especial encontrar en la radio esa canción que para ti es en algun modo especial, simplemente porque es la oportunidad de compartir por una vez algo que tienes muy dentro, algo que te define como persona. Y por todo esto creo que es un libro imprescindible para todos los que aman la música.
July 6, 2008
What could perhaps described as autobiographical music criticism. Anyone who knows me knows I frequently cite the often miss attributed quote "writing about music is like dancing about architecture" (Costello? Monk? Mingus? Kant?) so this book is kinda like that. Plus, Hornby frequently comes across as an old, liberal fart, especially in his descriptions of 21st century pop music and hip hop BUT HE KNOWS HES AN OLD LIBERAL FART AND HE REALLY LOVES Nelly Furtado so that sort of makes it OK doesn't it? Not really. I don't even know where to begin with that one.
Still, his passion for music made me pull out a couple CD's I'd bought out of guilt and/or curiousity and listen to then, only to realize I still didn't like them.
Still, his passion for music made me pull out a couple CD's I'd bought out of guilt and/or curiousity and listen to then, only to realize I still didn't like them.
August 24, 2017
Nick Hornby is a good writer and it is obvious with this book. But this was a really boring book. As I was reading about songs I didn't know or could care about I wondered how this book even got made and who would really buy it. I fill like it was something he just did to fulfill an obligation. I'm glad I could read it in a day.
I won this book on Goodreads and thank the publisher for my copy.
I won this book on Goodreads and thank the publisher for my copy.
February 27, 2011
Bueno, no es una novela, ni un ensayo, ni una crítica musical (como se esfuerza en recordarnos el autor constantemente).... es una mirada sobre 31 canciones que de alguna manera u otra han calado en Hornby, bien sentimentalmente, bien por otros motivos más "musicales". No puedo evitarlo, Hornby me cae bien, me gusta como escribe, y es un fan de la música, como yo, aunque no tenga su nivel de conocimientos seguramente... pero el libro destila pasión y eso es lo que me atrapa, aunque no compartamos totalmente los gustos, hace que se contagie su entusiasmo por lo que escribe. Todo ello sazonado con un gran sentido del humor... y además escoge "Thunder Road" para abrir el libro.... que más se le puede pedir.
P.D. Creo también que "Thunder Road" forma parte de mi historia, al igual que "Born to Run" y otras muchas canciones (igual un dia hago una reco como él); Thunder es una canción que, como Hornby, no identifico con un momento de mi vida o una imagen en concreto, porque me lleva acompañando muy a menudo desde los 14 años, por lo que es como una banda sonora... y curiosamente no envejece, es vigente para mí, es "redonda" sencillamente, tanto en la amarga versión acústica como en la imponente versión más rockera. Ais......... ese Boss......
FEBRERO 2011 - RELECTURA
P.D. Creo también que "Thunder Road" forma parte de mi historia, al igual que "Born to Run" y otras muchas canciones (igual un dia hago una reco como él); Thunder es una canción que, como Hornby, no identifico con un momento de mi vida o una imagen en concreto, porque me lleva acompañando muy a menudo desde los 14 años, por lo que es como una banda sonora... y curiosamente no envejece, es vigente para mí, es "redonda" sencillamente, tanto en la amarga versión acústica como en la imponente versión más rockera. Ais......... ese Boss......
FEBRERO 2011 - RELECTURA
May 5, 2014
I was playing Queen for my daughter today, thinking it's 24 years since I first consciously listened to their music and irremediably fell in love with them (read Freddie, mostly) and I just realized I didn't say a word about this little lovely book.
"Sometimes, very occasionally, songs and books and films and pictures express who you are, perfectly. And they don’t do this in words or images, necessarily; the connection is a lot less direct and more complicated than that"
This quote really sums up what 31 Songs (Songbook) is about. There's a lot of love in it, for music, obviously, for Danny, his autistic son, for friends, for places, for Bruce (Springsteen), for Lee (not Bruce Lee, though :-)), there's sadness and there's joy. It's almost like an open invitation to introspection. I'd love to do it, but I'm not sure I'm ready to dig so deep into myself.
"Sometimes, very occasionally, songs and books and films and pictures express who you are, perfectly. And they don’t do this in words or images, necessarily; the connection is a lot less direct and more complicated than that"
This quote really sums up what 31 Songs (Songbook) is about. There's a lot of love in it, for music, obviously, for Danny, his autistic son, for friends, for places, for Bruce (Springsteen), for Lee (not Bruce Lee, though :-)), there's sadness and there's joy. It's almost like an open invitation to introspection. I'd love to do it, but I'm not sure I'm ready to dig so deep into myself.
December 24, 2021
This was written in 2002 and it shows.
February 22, 2020
I’m in the middle of reading Wolf Hall and thought tonight to interrupt my reading with this little gem from Nick Hornby. I had borrowed it months ago from a friend and they want to lend it to their nephew. 31 songs is insightful. In a sense we all could produce a list of songs, not necessarily 31, that have moved us in some way. Not that it was the song we first danced with a loved one or the song that reminds us of a certain holiday. More a song that spoke to us at a certain point in our life. This book also allows us to eavesdrop on some of his life and who inspired him to find his writing voice. Of course there are also some laugh out loud moments. I chuckled when I read, 'Rubbishing our children's tastes is one of the few pleasures remaining to us as we become old, redundant and culturally marginalised.'
All in all a good read, a quick read, and now it’s back to the court of King Henry VIII and wondering what TC will do next.
All in all a good read, a quick read, and now it’s back to the court of King Henry VIII and wondering what TC will do next.
August 25, 2021
I really like Nick Hornby, but we have different definitions of what is pop music. Also, I was annoyed by how often he mentioned The Clash, but we never listen to one of their songs. Sigh. Still a Nick Hornby fan though!
January 24, 2020
Nick Hornby, autor de “Alta Fidelidad” y “About a Boy” escribe un libro sobre el impacto que han tenido 31 canciones en su vida. No siempre son recuerdos, ni cómo estas canciones afectaron como banda sonora de sus días, sino que usa cada una como una excusa para reflexionar distintos aspectos de la música en nuestras vidas. Desde recitales remotos y extraños que nos llegan al alma sin haberlo esperado, la magia de las bandas que hacen cut-up (música a partir de música existente), que se enfrenta a los prejuicios contra el Pop o la música country. Hornby, cuya obra está atravesada por la música, escribe un libro que sirve para zambullirse en un mar de música nueva, vista a través de la lupa de un tipo que sabe.
De forma entretenida y humana, nos pone en contacto con artistas por un camino de vivencias muy bajadas a tierra, muy humanas. Conectando la música de “Badly Drawn Boy” (Que hizo la música de su película “About a Boy”) con su hijo autista o la escalofriante “Franky Teardrop” de Suicide con la necesidad de usar la música como método de escape de un mundo cruel y salvaje, Hornby expande nuestras fronteras musicales y lo hace de forma tan humilde y entendida que no se puede dejar de lado.
Hay una playlist en Spotify dónde estan reunidas muchas (no todas) las canciones del libro, así que les dejo el link:
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1r4...
De forma entretenida y humana, nos pone en contacto con artistas por un camino de vivencias muy bajadas a tierra, muy humanas. Conectando la música de “Badly Drawn Boy” (Que hizo la música de su película “About a Boy”) con su hijo autista o la escalofriante “Franky Teardrop” de Suicide con la necesidad de usar la música como método de escape de un mundo cruel y salvaje, Hornby expande nuestras fronteras musicales y lo hace de forma tan humilde y entendida que no se puede dejar de lado.
Hay una playlist en Spotify dónde estan reunidas muchas (no todas) las canciones del libro, así que les dejo el link:
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1r4...
August 22, 2013
I wavered between giving this book three or four stars, but decided on three because of several essays in the middle that I didn't find particularly interesting and could have done without. In general, these essays provide an insightful look at music in general, how it plays a part in our lives and its impact on culture.
Because the essays are written by Nick Hornby, they are often quite funny, and almost always well-crafted. I love his general lack of pretension about his music tastes, and that he recognizes he's a middle-aged white man who probably isn't always the best judge of modern music (and he's okay with that).
I have not heard many of the songs he wrote about, but that didn't matter. The songs themselves were often only periphery to the main points he was trying to make about culture or music tastes or the importance of music in our lives. I thought the first few essays started off strong, and then the book started to lag in the middle, but overall I enjoyed it.
My edition also came with five extra essays reprinted from The New Yorker, but most of them were album reviews and didn't feel like they fit with the rest of the book. Still, even album reviews are quite insightful in the hands of Hornsby. And the fifth of these essays, where Hornby decides to listen to the 10 best-selling albums in the U.S. based on the Billboard charts, contains one of the best and funniest insults I've heard of a band's lyrics (but I'll let you read for yourself).
Because the essays are written by Nick Hornby, they are often quite funny, and almost always well-crafted. I love his general lack of pretension about his music tastes, and that he recognizes he's a middle-aged white man who probably isn't always the best judge of modern music (and he's okay with that).
I have not heard many of the songs he wrote about, but that didn't matter. The songs themselves were often only periphery to the main points he was trying to make about culture or music tastes or the importance of music in our lives. I thought the first few essays started off strong, and then the book started to lag in the middle, but overall I enjoyed it.
My edition also came with five extra essays reprinted from The New Yorker, but most of them were album reviews and didn't feel like they fit with the rest of the book. Still, even album reviews are quite insightful in the hands of Hornsby. And the fifth of these essays, where Hornby decides to listen to the 10 best-selling albums in the U.S. based on the Billboard charts, contains one of the best and funniest insults I've heard of a band's lyrics (but I'll let you read for yourself).
June 21, 2018
It is not really this book’s fault that I hated it because it really is not my thing. However, I like to give every book that comes my way a chance so I gave it a go.
This is a book about Nick Hornby’s favourite songs. My problems were that I don’t know who Nick Hornby is, I don’t care what he thinks about certain songs, and we clearly have different tastes in music.
I tried to read it carefully but after the first few songs, I just skimmed through it.
Not for me at all.
This is a book about Nick Hornby’s favourite songs. My problems were that I don’t know who Nick Hornby is, I don’t care what he thinks about certain songs, and we clearly have different tastes in music.
I tried to read it carefully but after the first few songs, I just skimmed through it.
Not for me at all.
May 4, 2022
Can’t believe the same person who wrote High Fidelity wrote a book about music that is so… bland? In the first few pages he noted that the essays aren’t filled with “straightforward time-and-place connections” which is a shame because I found those to be the only moments where the book really shined. A few high ceilings but equally low floors.
November 23, 2017
When I put this on my wishlist, I thought it was a novel. I just read a couple of Hornby's books and decided I wanted to read them all. I was a little disappointed when I discovered it was just him talking about 31 songs he liked, especially when I looked at the list of songs and either don't know or don't like any of them.
But this isn't really about those particular songs. This is a musical journey that pretty much everyone can relate to. Even though the songs are different, they way he's gone through genres at certain stages of life, echos my own.
I laughed out loud when he mentioned starting to look towards country music, as it tends to be like heavy rock music where it's not that mainstream and you still feel like you have something special to you. I am loving country music at the moment, I must have reached that age!
Everyone who starts to notice they are getting older will relate to not understanding the music of today. My niece was playing some rap song for me yesterday, kept going 'boys, not hot'. And I was judging it for being stupid. This book has made me remember that I love the song 'Barbie Girl' and I will sing along to 'The Cheeky Girls' if it's being played. And I'm guessing my parents didn't understood why I liked those tunes, as their parents no doubt didn't understand what they were listening to.
Still can't get over that all the songs I like are now being played on 'Magic' . A radio station that used to be reserved exclusively for songs my mum liked.
Hornby injects his trademark humor into the writing and although I did try and listen to a few of the tracks on youtube, they are not my thing. But that doesn't matter. Like I said before, this is about the relationship people have with music. Very relatable.
But this isn't really about those particular songs. This is a musical journey that pretty much everyone can relate to. Even though the songs are different, they way he's gone through genres at certain stages of life, echos my own.
I laughed out loud when he mentioned starting to look towards country music, as it tends to be like heavy rock music where it's not that mainstream and you still feel like you have something special to you. I am loving country music at the moment, I must have reached that age!
Everyone who starts to notice they are getting older will relate to not understanding the music of today. My niece was playing some rap song for me yesterday, kept going 'boys, not hot'. And I was judging it for being stupid. This book has made me remember that I love the song 'Barbie Girl' and I will sing along to 'The Cheeky Girls' if it's being played. And I'm guessing my parents didn't understood why I liked those tunes, as their parents no doubt didn't understand what they were listening to.
Still can't get over that all the songs I like are now being played on 'Magic' . A radio station that used to be reserved exclusively for songs my mum liked.
Hornby injects his trademark humor into the writing and although I did try and listen to a few of the tracks on youtube, they are not my thing. But that doesn't matter. Like I said before, this is about the relationship people have with music. Very relatable.
October 26, 2018
Songbook was going to be (I thought) my introduction to Nick Hornby. Hornby is, of course, the author of High Fidelity and About a Boy. I was looking forward to seeing Hornby's legendary mordant wit on display. To a certain extent that actually happened in Songbook, which is a collection of essays on music, specifically the music the author loves most-pop music. I cannot disparage the subject matter, but the book itself became a painful slog I only finished through sheer stubbornness. I quit even trying to listen to the author's musical choices after the first few essays. I am not sure what precipitated this reaction-maybe we like the same music but different songs, Mr. Hornby.
December 5, 2020
I can’t do a better job of summarizing this than that New York Times blurb on the cover. What a pleasure, as always, to spend time with Nick Hornby, one of my author gods. I envy his talent, but I love him even more than I envy him. These essays were all so good, and they reminded me that I need to make an effort to listen to music more. Ever since the proliferation of podcasts and my embrace of audiobooks, my music consumption has declined, and it is very much to my detriment. When I think to listen to music in the car or while I’m cooking, I love it. It’s just making the choice to do so. I need to be like my friends Jared and Mike and carve out regular chunks of time where listening to music is the thing that I am doing, not something I multitask with other things.
July 12, 2023
'but the truly great songs, the ones that age and golden-oldies radio stations cannot wither, are about our romantic feelings. and this is not because songwriters have anything to add to the subject; it's just that romance, with its dips and turns and glooms and highs, its swoops and swoons and blues, is a natural metaphor for music itself.'
October 6, 2018
Este es un libro, para mí, importante. Habla y reflexiona de canciones de rock y música popular. Y lo hace relajado, sin pontificar y nombrando muchos grupos y músicos que no conozco (otros que sí). ¿Qué mejor?
April 11, 2021
I actually like a number of the songs Hornby highlights in his book about the influence of pop music on his life--but I should never have listened to the accompanying CD, which I found to be mostly dreadful. It definitely colored my reading of the book.
I like Rufus Wainwright, but "One Man Guy" is far from his best song. The only other song that seemed worthy of the book was Ani DiFranco's "You Had Time".
The writing itself covers a much broader canvas, and even if you aren't that familiar with, or don't like, some of Hornby's greatest hits, you can appreciate the connections he makes between age, life events and experience, and the way music can keep you company while soothing and supporting. Hornby can be a bit overbearing with his particular approvals and dismissals, and has an aura of superiority about his taste which can annoy--but still, the book is entertaining and got me thinking, even if I was just arguing with him in my head.
The best chapter for me was "Gregory Isaacs--Puff the Magic Dragon", where he talks about his autistic son and how music anchors him in the world as a wordless but completely understandably method of interaction and communication.
"That's why I love the relationship with music he has already, because it's how I know he has something in him that he wants others to articulate....It's the best part of us, probably, the richest and strangest part, and Danny's got it too, of course he has; you could argue that he's simply dispensed with all the earthbound, rubbishy bits."
Music is magic, no argument there at all.
I like Rufus Wainwright, but "One Man Guy" is far from his best song. The only other song that seemed worthy of the book was Ani DiFranco's "You Had Time".
The writing itself covers a much broader canvas, and even if you aren't that familiar with, or don't like, some of Hornby's greatest hits, you can appreciate the connections he makes between age, life events and experience, and the way music can keep you company while soothing and supporting. Hornby can be a bit overbearing with his particular approvals and dismissals, and has an aura of superiority about his taste which can annoy--but still, the book is entertaining and got me thinking, even if I was just arguing with him in my head.
The best chapter for me was "Gregory Isaacs--Puff the Magic Dragon", where he talks about his autistic son and how music anchors him in the world as a wordless but completely understandably method of interaction and communication.
"That's why I love the relationship with music he has already, because it's how I know he has something in him that he wants others to articulate....It's the best part of us, probably, the richest and strangest part, and Danny's got it too, of course he has; you could argue that he's simply dispensed with all the earthbound, rubbishy bits."
Music is magic, no argument there at all.
January 16, 2022
Very nice trip through Nicks music experiences and very nicely, funny and easy to read. If you like music, you like this book.
Curious what he thinks about Eminem nowadays, so if you read this Nick let me know ok?
Curious what he thinks about Eminem nowadays, so if you read this Nick let me know ok?
November 18, 2010
Alcuni giorni fa ho ricevuto un bellissimo regalo: un cuscino poggiatesta per la vasca da bagno. Oggetto che desideravo da tanto tempo. E’ la sua anima arrogante e inutile travestita da manufatto con finalità d’uso ad attirarmi. Esattamente come le canzoni . La prima volta che presi coscienza dell’esistenza di un simile oggetto fu in un cinema, secoli fa, incauto spettatore di Nightmare e l’unico ricordo che ho di quel film è una scena, assai secondaria, in cui una mamma raccomanda al figlio (o era una figlia?) di utilizzare nella vasca il poggiatesta per evitare di affogare (?!) al sopraggiungere di un eventuale colpo di sonno. In prima battuta pensai che diavolo di popolo è un popolo che affoga in una vasca da bagno , e soprattutto un popolo che progetta costruisce vende e consuma poggiatesta da vasca? Poi conclusi che in fondo è lo stesso popolo che è riuscito a rendere industria globale un oggetto assai più immateriale e bizzarro come la canzone.
Da felice possessore di poggiatesta ho ripreso in mano questo libello di Nick Hornby -libro da leggersi obbligatoriamente in vasca- scrittore poggiatesta per eccellenza , della cui produzione ho letto molto ma ricordo poco, come certi filmetti horror o talune canzonette, scrittore inutile e, a volte, piacevole appunto come un poggiatesta da vasca. Qui Hornby, una volta tanto, lascia da parte l’usurata formuletta del chik lit per maschietti e adotta una lingua rozza, discorsiva, quasi da bar, adattissima all’argomento trattato. Un elenco di 31 canzoni che spazia dal molto alto (Dylan, Patti Smith, Van Morrison) al molto basso (Nelly Furtado) senza soluzione di continuità. Ma non ha alcuna importanza. Le 31 canzoni possono essere tranquillamente sostituite da altre qualsiasi 31 capate a caso dal canzoniere universale per portare avanti il giochetto volutamente ingenuo innescato da Hornby. La tesi di fondo, esplicitamente non dichiarata, ma ovvia cordicella che infila tutte le 31 false perle, è il domandarsi (e rispondersi) come può un adulto trasferire un tot di passione (un bel po’ di tot) verso quei quattro minuti quattro di esile trama musicale, quell’innocente approssimazione di una rappresentazione estetica della realtà quale è la musica pop. E’ una domanda che insegue tutti noi, attempati e suggestionabili idioti che corrono dietro al nulla in musica.
Su una cosa io e H. siamo d’accordo: il corpo a corpo con la canzone è un corpo a corpo con il mistero, non è importante tirar giù il vestito musicale a certe creature fragili, si avrebbero solo brutte sorprese, gli ingredienti è buona regola lasciarli segreti, il disvelamento interrompe il gioco, meglio quindi bendarsi gli occhi e cercare a tentoni una qualunque di quelle 31 maniglie che aprono la porta di quel mondo parallelo. Siamo persone predisposte alla fede e all’abbaglio, alla fede nell’abbaglio.
Su molte altre siamo in netto disaccordo, ma non importa, in fondo mi sono sempre posto un paio di domande intorno agli inglesi: la prima è quale cortocircuito culturale sia l’origine dell’invenzione di una cosa come il porridge, la seconda è perché esiste Rod Stewart.A una delle due, Hornby mi ha risposto. E tanto basta
Da felice possessore di poggiatesta ho ripreso in mano questo libello di Nick Hornby -libro da leggersi obbligatoriamente in vasca- scrittore poggiatesta per eccellenza , della cui produzione ho letto molto ma ricordo poco, come certi filmetti horror o talune canzonette, scrittore inutile e, a volte, piacevole appunto come un poggiatesta da vasca. Qui Hornby, una volta tanto, lascia da parte l’usurata formuletta del chik lit per maschietti e adotta una lingua rozza, discorsiva, quasi da bar, adattissima all’argomento trattato. Un elenco di 31 canzoni che spazia dal molto alto (Dylan, Patti Smith, Van Morrison) al molto basso (Nelly Furtado) senza soluzione di continuità. Ma non ha alcuna importanza. Le 31 canzoni possono essere tranquillamente sostituite da altre qualsiasi 31 capate a caso dal canzoniere universale per portare avanti il giochetto volutamente ingenuo innescato da Hornby. La tesi di fondo, esplicitamente non dichiarata, ma ovvia cordicella che infila tutte le 31 false perle, è il domandarsi (e rispondersi) come può un adulto trasferire un tot di passione (un bel po’ di tot) verso quei quattro minuti quattro di esile trama musicale, quell’innocente approssimazione di una rappresentazione estetica della realtà quale è la musica pop. E’ una domanda che insegue tutti noi, attempati e suggestionabili idioti che corrono dietro al nulla in musica.
Su una cosa io e H. siamo d’accordo: il corpo a corpo con la canzone è un corpo a corpo con il mistero, non è importante tirar giù il vestito musicale a certe creature fragili, si avrebbero solo brutte sorprese, gli ingredienti è buona regola lasciarli segreti, il disvelamento interrompe il gioco, meglio quindi bendarsi gli occhi e cercare a tentoni una qualunque di quelle 31 maniglie che aprono la porta di quel mondo parallelo. Siamo persone predisposte alla fede e all’abbaglio, alla fede nell’abbaglio.
Su molte altre siamo in netto disaccordo, ma non importa, in fondo mi sono sempre posto un paio di domande intorno agli inglesi: la prima è quale cortocircuito culturale sia l’origine dell’invenzione di una cosa come il porridge, la seconda è perché esiste Rod Stewart.A una delle due, Hornby mi ha risposto. E tanto basta
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