![]() ![]() It does make me wonder how people who’ve never heard Throwing Muses experience this book. Her autobiography, Paradoxical Undressing ( Rat Girl in America), covers the frenetic year in which the 19-year-old Hersh is hospitalised with manic depression (“ They don’t call it that anymore”), signs to British label 4AD, gets pregnant and along the way writes some of the most extraordinarily affecting, astonishing and inventive pop songs that have ever been recorded. The songs Kristin Hersh wrote with her band Throwing Muses are kinaesthetic wonders, flashing bright with fire and fury. “Are you calling my scales wimpy?” I shrugged and he handed me the guitar. They get their asses kicked enough times and grow pale, while the winning fish develop bright colourful scales and beautiful patterns … “If you play too many wimpy chords, you’re just asking for wimpy scales.”ĭude looked at me sideways. ![]() Like those fish.” The fish I meant were African cichlids, who change color when they lose too many fights. I shook my head and glared impatiently at Dude. I complained that the chords didn’t sound magenta enough. Why doesn’t it sound as cool as it looks? “They’re probably nice guys.” Handing the guitar back to Dude, I stare at it, perplexed. “Mm-hm.” I looked at my hands, willing them to play better. She used to creep up and gaze at it longingly, imagining the thrilling sounds it would make when played.Įventually Dude teaches her tiny hands to make E/G/A around the guitar’s huge neck but little Kristin is bitterly disappointed: the chords are boring. Six-year-old Kristin Hersh, in the way of small children told not to touch something because it’s not a toy, imbued the guitar belonging to her university professor dad (whom everyone called Dude) with mysterious and magical powers. Decrease Font Size Increase Font Size Text Size Print This Page Send by Email ![]()
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