Love is a Mix Tape

I picked up this book for a few different reasons. This incredibly poignant love story concerns Rolling Stone contributing editor Rob Sheffield and his late wife Renee Crist, who was also a very talented freelance music writer. I didn't know either of them, but I did speak to Renee once about 13 years ago when I was briefly working as a music publicist. I remember having a friendly conversation as she gently let me down regarding the project I was pitching her; hey, German techno ain't for everyone, but she was kind. I knew she had passed away, but I had no idea how suddenly it happened until reading the story. I was also attracted to the metaphor of the story, since my own book is structured like a mix tape, complete with an A-Side and a B-Side.

I'm so glad I read this, and I think the hopefulness in it might bring some comfort to a friend who recently went through a similar circumstance. It also makes me treasure all the love in my life that much more.

Because I am going to pass the book on, I want to note my favorite passage:

*

Every time I have a crush on a woman, I have the same fantasy: I imagine the two of us as a synth-pop duo. No matter who she is, or how we meet, the synth-pop duo fantasy has to work, or the crush fizzles out. I have loads of other musical fantasies about my crushes -- I picture us as a Gram-and-Emmylou country harmony duo, or as guitarists in a rock band, trading off vocals like Mick and Keith. But for me, it always comes back to the synth-pop duo. The girl is up front, swishing her skirt, tossing her hair, a saucy little firecracker. I'm the boy in the back, hidden behind my Roland JP8000 keyboard. She has all the courage and star power I lack. She sings out hit after hit because I would never dare to get up and sing it myself. She moves the crowd while I lurk in the shadows, lavishing all my computer-blue love on her, punching the buttons that shower her in disco bliss and bathe her in the spotlight. I make her a star.