Marc Ribot

I have been a fan of Mr. Ribot's work since the 1990s, and I jumped at the chance to read this collection of stories and essays. The biggest takeaway for me was that this book turned me on to the Haitian guitarist, Franz Casseus, who was a major influence, teacher and mentor to the author. His music is tremendous, and I am so pleased to have discovered it. This is not like a tell-all kind of book. It's more of a grouping of memories and a couple short fiction pieces which hew closely to the essays in tone. I would have liked to read some anecdotes about recording sessions - but thats not what this book is, and thats probably not interesting to a whole lot of people.
As a fan I enjoyed it, I felt it brought me closer to understanding this amazing artist and has that quality of listening to someone riff a little about stuff and tell a couple stories. For a reader coming in cold, I am afraid it doesn't really hold up the whole way through, enough that I would recommend it to someone who isn't already familiar with his work.


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Ribot came to my notice through his work with two musicians I follow: Tom Waits, Sam Phillips (the younger singer-songwriter, not the Sun Records producer). I was curious about his approach to "noise", I found it creative, melodic, and seemingly devoid of ego on the tracks I'd heard. Somehow I'd never got around to tracking down his own recordings, so this book seemed a fittingly sideways opportunity to learn more about him, his creativity.

I posed a question via a virtual event in support of the book, as to whether his enjoyment of noise came more for an affinity for transgression (of whatever kind), or from an appreciation of beauty (which only seems "noisy" to others). Ribot offered a metaphor by way of answer. Noise is "one of the tubes of paint" available to him, as are atonality, polytonality. It's an element of sound, a part of the process in making music. "I make noise, and something crawls from the wreckage."

Asked if any essay in the book was linked to a musical piece, Ribot noted there was a lyric on a Ceramic Dog album from "The Activist", and concluded: "So yes, sometimes."

The essays and stories in this collection were a fast read, but not slight. There was a lot here that wasn't about music, but it was easy (for me) to draw parallels to musical creativity, and tonal texture, and other aspects of music that I was looking for in Ribot's style.

Against all expectation, though, the most remarkable piece here has very little to say about guitars, musicians, touring, noise, or music. "Putting Your Arms around a Memory" muses on Jewish identity, and Ribot's time spent on Manhattan's Lower East Side. I'll seek out his albums, now. And -- the Zorn Arcana series to which Ribot contributed gets nudged up on my wish list.

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Virtual book-signing seemed to clarify he pronounces his name REE-bo, not ree-BO.… (mehr)

I quit at the halfway point which I never do when I receive books free from the publisher. Honestly I suspect almost every person I know could put together a more interesting memoir. I respect Ribot's music, Rain Dogs is one of my favorite albums ever in part because of his guitar work., He has blurbs from Elvis Costello, John Zorn, and others so clearly he has the respect of his peers, but I just could not engage with a single anecdote. Also, as a writer Ribot makes a good guitarist. Sorry Marc and Akashic books!… (mehr)