don't you tell me how i feel.

word to your mother by v
August 15, 2011, 8:11 am
Filed under: badass, boox, Shit I Like, Shit I Was Late on

I recently discovered the late Australian music critic Lillian Roxon: before-her time feminist, fabled denizen of NYC’s Max’s Kansas City and author of the Encyclopedia of Rock (she died horribly young from asthma in 1973).

In her biography, Lillian Roxon: Mother of Rock, not only does she come across as a real force of nature, she was also a lady after Don’t You Tell Me How I Feel’s heart.

To wit, here’s Roxon on Carole King in her New York Sunday News column:

“Carole King may have a number one single and a number one album, but I find her as boring as my girlfriends who are always on the phone to me whining about the problems they have ‘communicating’ and having ‘meaningful relationships.’ She is like every messed-up neurotic girl you ever had to confront in group therapy. Sincere, certainly, well-meaning, too — a nice girl, not bad looking, super-talented, but exasperating and totally unexciting. You know, of course, what her success means — that rock is going to into a ‘Dark Shadows’ period. Those moody broody songs about getting it all together and facing the world bravely are going to take over the airwaves, and then what are we going to dance to? The Pathetique Sonata?…You can learn more about being a human being from Tina Turner’s body language than from all of Carole’s fortune cookie philosophizing.”

BURN indeed!


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