Marc Ribot

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 show more 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. show less

In this collection of essays, fiction, film treatments and non-fiction Marc Ribot’s musical and social conscience is on display. He writes about people he has worked with, learned from and admired (Frantz Casseus, Hal Willner,) about his adventures in New York City real estate, about disassembling his daughter’s childhood bed, about plagiarizing poetry in school, about relationships.

He writes about a rooster’s crow, its “unmistakable rage” and “blunt expression without show more language.” There’s no comparison drawn with a human equivalent, but a candidate or two come to mind. There are also several intriguing film treatments. Included are a series of parable-like stories, often outlandish and sometimes involving musicians. One starts this way: “Once there was a little boy whose parents were assholes. He knew it, they knew it, everybody knew it.” These are, of course, entertaining.

A varied and intelligent collection that never falls into predictability. show less

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 show more 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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Marc Ribot has written an unconventional book. It’s neither a traditional memoir nor a novel, but an assortment of quick quips about fellow musicians and mentors, as well as short stories and disconcerting mini dramas.

His essays abruptly shift from narrative to narrative; leaving fragments of observations and ideas.

These little vignettes have their own NYC sensibility and charm, but also leave the reader feeling somewhat displaced.

Marc Ribot has an ear for language, but he unabashedly show more breaks all the rules of cohesion. What unifies his essays are their restless intensity that take unexpected turns; much like free-jazz. show less