I doubt that his little note is enough to keep me away. After all, Hornby’s book is about his critiques and experiences with the 31 most influential pop songs (ranging from Nelly Furtado’s “Fly Like a Bird” to Zeppelin’s “Heartbreaker” to “Puff the Magic Dragon”).
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“Songbook”
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 Entertainment
 Art
By Nick Hornby
(Riverhead Books)
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But I digress.
In between chapters of Hornby’s book, I caught a PBS special on the Mamas and the Papas. I can’t say whether reading “Songbook” enhanced my viewing or vice versa, but one thing’s for sure: we’re all music critics; it’s just that some of us have the sway to write a series of essays on 31 pop songs and publish it to raise money for our child’s school.
After the first two chapters of other pop culture books (RE: Chuck Klosterman’s “Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs”), the reader often realizes that the author has nothing (interesting) to say. But Nick Hornby does. And he blames it on life experiences. He’s tried a few different musical genres (he explains that he used to think it was cool if the band ate rats instead of salad). But his interests have expanded due to a pseudo-game of “Six Degrees,” in which is love for Rod Stewart’s music directly led him to Aretha Franklin, Bob Dylan, Crazy Horse, B.B. King, the Four Tops, the Temptations and others.
In his chapter on “Frankie Teardrop” (Suicide) / “Ain’t That Enough” (Teenage Fanclub), Hornby discusses how his evolving musical tastes are linked to age and experience; and as a younger reader, I feel far from patronized. I feel as though I should listen to a voice of experience, of reason, and save my eardrums (from Suicide) for a much for valuable experience (as “Frankie Teardrop” – according to Hornby – can result in hospitalization).
Perhaps what I liked most about Hornby’s book was that it wasn’t condescending or belittling, and I did not feel bad for not knowing every single song he talked about. But what it did do was make me read the discography and subsequently expose me to new music. In fact, after reading his chapter on “Samba Pa Ti” by Santana, I half-wished I could have had that song as the background music when I lost my virginity instead of “Raspberry Beret” by Prince.
Hornby says he wrote a book about music because he can’t write music. This got me thinking: there must be something so intrinsic about music that we have an innate need for it. I can’t quite put my thumb on why or how this is manifested, but I know when I see it: musicals. We all wish that we could spontaneously burst into song (and have it sound good, if not great), or revel in when the music in movies tells us how we are to feel (scary movies are great at this).
In any case, Hornby’s book is, an opportunity in 200 pages to sit down and reflect on what (31) songs have been most influential in your life.
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