Take a photo of a barcode or cover
3.92 AVERAGE
3.92 AVERAGE
emotional
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Summary : Rob Sheffield, a music lover and editor for Rolling Stone, recounts, through mixtapes, the years he spent with his wife Renée (up 'til her death), as well as the changing musical world around him.
My opinion on this book is alike the one I had for Open Water. They are, of course, very different books, but they're both very personal for the author, filled with music and that I admire even though I wasn't the targeted audience. I say this because I'm sad I didn't know most of the songs mentioned in the book. I guess I should read Rob's book about Taylor Swift! Anyway, I was one or two generations away from enjoying the book even (a lot?) more, I would've loved to get the references, cause I was just glad when I did.
In the meantime, I appreciate the intention and find it very touching, noble and heartfelt to write a sort of ode to Renée and to music as well. I imagined it honored her and I love what Rob wrote about her. One of my favorites, if not my favorite, quote of the book is : "this tape doesn't exactly flow; it's just a bunch of burnt offerings to this goddess girl". #iwishiwrotethis
Grief is something I know practically nothing about, and yet the way Rob wrote about it very much struck me and spoke to me. I underlined a lot of grief-related quotes throughout the book. Speaking of underlining stuff, most of what I've underlined was because it was funny. It's a very funny book. I just flipped through it again, and there are a lot of funny things to quote, frankly, like "as a religion, Boweism didn't seem so different from Catholicism - the hemlines were just a little higher" or "I was a wise guy, expect when my inner pussy would slip out from under my cassock and surplice" or "I accidentally climbed Dudley Mountain."
So, I thought this book was a very nice, pleasant, realistic, funny and melancholic read (the comments on the book cover didn't lie), but I'm kinda bummed I'm not from the right generation and only got few references.
My opinion on this book is alike the one I had for Open Water. They are, of course, very different books, but they're both very personal for the author, filled with music and that I admire even though I wasn't the targeted audience. I say this because I'm sad I didn't know most of the songs mentioned in the book. I guess I should read Rob's book about Taylor Swift! Anyway, I was one or two generations away from enjoying the book even (a lot?) more, I would've loved to get the references, cause I was just glad when I did.
In the meantime, I appreciate the intention and find it very touching, noble and heartfelt to write a sort of ode to Renée and to music as well. I imagined it honored her and I love what Rob wrote about her. One of my favorites, if not my favorite, quote of the book is : "this tape doesn't exactly flow; it's just a bunch of burnt offerings to this goddess girl". #iwishiwrotethis
Grief is something I know practically nothing about, and yet the way Rob wrote about it very much struck me and spoke to me. I underlined a lot of grief-related quotes throughout the book. Speaking of underlining stuff, most of what I've underlined was because it was funny. It's a very funny book. I just flipped through it again, and there are a lot of funny things to quote, frankly, like "as a religion, Boweism didn't seem so different from Catholicism - the hemlines were just a little higher" or "I was a wise guy, expect when my inner pussy would slip out from under my cassock and surplice" or "I accidentally climbed Dudley Mountain."
So, I thought this book was a very nice, pleasant, realistic, funny and melancholic read (the comments on the book cover didn't lie), but I'm kinda bummed I'm not from the right generation and only got few references.
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
In honor of this book, I submit a playlist from a mix tape I made some time in the 90s. I still keep a crate of these relics of my past, even though I have no cassette player. So much of my adolescence and young adulthood was documented by mix tape. This book is so perfect.
Side A:
Lightning Crashes - Live
Stretched on Your Grave - Sinead O'Connor
Married With Children - Oasis
Better Man - Pearl Jam
Whir - Smashing Pumpkins
The Power - Suede
Now My Heart is Full - Morrissey
Welcome to the Occupation - R.E.M.
Side B:
Love - The Sundays
Breath of Life - Erasure
Inside - Toad the Wet Sprocket
Between Something and Nothing - The Ocean Blue
High - The Cure
I Can't Be With You - The Cranberries
Here Comes Your Man - The Pixies
William, It Was Really Nothing - The Smiths
Bob's Yer Uncle - Happy Mondays
Heavens - James
Clover Over Dover - Blur
Side A:
Lightning Crashes - Live
Stretched on Your Grave - Sinead O'Connor
Married With Children - Oasis
Better Man - Pearl Jam
Whir - Smashing Pumpkins
The Power - Suede
Now My Heart is Full - Morrissey
Welcome to the Occupation - R.E.M.
Side B:
Love - The Sundays
Breath of Life - Erasure
Inside - Toad the Wet Sprocket
Between Something and Nothing - The Ocean Blue
High - The Cure
I Can't Be With You - The Cranberries
Here Comes Your Man - The Pixies
William, It Was Really Nothing - The Smiths
Bob's Yer Uncle - Happy Mondays
Heavens - James
Clover Over Dover - Blur
It evoked my long gone faith in love
Now I crave a love story like this and no I don't mind dying young
Now I crave a love story like this and no I don't mind dying young
Rob Sheffield’s Love Is a Mixtape was a truly unexpected pleasure. I’d had enough of music nerd fetishism a la High Fidelity, so I wasn’t that eager to read this book. But it fell into my lap when I found myself on a vacation and bookless, with nothing to read except my friend’s Kindle.
I devoured the book. I expected to identify with Rob’s love of music, but it was a surprise to be so moved by his story of loss. My dad died two years ago, and in the aftermath, I read books with mourning as a theme. Some I loved (Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking), some I liked and admired (Patrick Ness’s A Monster Calls), and some I hated (Helen Macdonald’s H Is for Hawk) – but none of them felt like me. Well, Rob’s story felt like me. It isn’t the deepest, most thought provoking book I’ve ever read, but this is the book I should’ve read in the aftermath of my dad’s death; this is the book where I would’ve seen my own experience staring back at me.
A wonderful by-product of this book is that it has me listening to music more. Since the podcast age arrived, I find myself listening to podcasts during the day instead of music. The last several years, I’ve been trying to listen to new releases as a way to keep music in my life. In a workman-like fashion, I’ll find some new music and listen to it at least five times. At the end of the year, I create a playlist with my favorite songs from each album. My dedication to this routine is the somewhat joyless “hook” that keeps me listening.
This book is genuine in it’s title; it has a mixed tape for each chapter, and the chapter may use the songs on the playlist as structure for the chapter or as a way to punctuate the theme. I realized that I should use my own mixes as the “hook” to more music consumption and also as a way to revisit the old music I love. Rob would talk about listening to his mixed tapes over and over again, smoking a cigarette on the back porch. As I listen to my playlists over and over again, I think of him, experiences of my youth and the way music can move you in so many ways. It’s both an anchor and an escape – it helps give voice to your own emotions while taking you into another world.
I devoured the book. I expected to identify with Rob’s love of music, but it was a surprise to be so moved by his story of loss. My dad died two years ago, and in the aftermath, I read books with mourning as a theme. Some I loved (Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking), some I liked and admired (Patrick Ness’s A Monster Calls), and some I hated (Helen Macdonald’s H Is for Hawk) – but none of them felt like me. Well, Rob’s story felt like me. It isn’t the deepest, most thought provoking book I’ve ever read, but this is the book I should’ve read in the aftermath of my dad’s death; this is the book where I would’ve seen my own experience staring back at me.
A wonderful by-product of this book is that it has me listening to music more. Since the podcast age arrived, I find myself listening to podcasts during the day instead of music. The last several years, I’ve been trying to listen to new releases as a way to keep music in my life. In a workman-like fashion, I’ll find some new music and listen to it at least five times. At the end of the year, I create a playlist with my favorite songs from each album. My dedication to this routine is the somewhat joyless “hook” that keeps me listening.
This book is genuine in it’s title; it has a mixed tape for each chapter, and the chapter may use the songs on the playlist as structure for the chapter or as a way to punctuate the theme. I realized that I should use my own mixes as the “hook” to more music consumption and also as a way to revisit the old music I love. Rob would talk about listening to his mixed tapes over and over again, smoking a cigarette on the back porch. As I listen to my playlists over and over again, I think of him, experiences of my youth and the way music can move you in so many ways. It’s both an anchor and an escape – it helps give voice to your own emotions while taking you into another world.
Love is a Mix Tape really struck a chord with me (pun intended). It is a bittersweet memoir in which Sheffield relives his relationship with Renee - meeting her, moving in together, getting married, her sudden and tragic passing and, ultimately, moving on - through some of his mix tapes.
Who doesn't hear That Certain Song and remember a moment from your past, or think of an old flame? Just reading the song titles on my old cassettes immediately brings back memories from when I made that tape - where I lived, who I hung out with, who I was dating.
Love is a Mix Tape really has two levels working simultaneously. The first is his relationship with Renee. I was drawn in because it is quite outside the norm of my experiences (very few friends of mine married in their early twenties, let alone lost their partner at thirty one). The second was his use of music as a touchstone, as a time capsule that elicits memories that a photograph just can't. Music has always been central in my life, and I enjoyed comparing my taste to Sheffield's as the years progressed.
Who doesn't hear That Certain Song and remember a moment from your past, or think of an old flame? Just reading the song titles on my old cassettes immediately brings back memories from when I made that tape - where I lived, who I hung out with, who I was dating.
Love is a Mix Tape really has two levels working simultaneously. The first is his relationship with Renee. I was drawn in because it is quite outside the norm of my experiences (very few friends of mine married in their early twenties, let alone lost their partner at thirty one). The second was his use of music as a touchstone, as a time capsule that elicits memories that a photograph just can't. Music has always been central in my life, and I enjoyed comparing my taste to Sheffield's as the years progressed.