New Yorker editor and Pulitzer Prize--winning author Remnick (Lenin's Tomb) comments on musical personalities, many of whom he saw perform and interviewed during the later stages of their careers. Structured in a conversational style, the book touches on artists like Leonard Cohen, Aretha Franklin, Buddy Guy, Keith Richards, Paul McCartney, Mavis Staples, Bruce Springsteen, Pavarotti, Bob Dylan, and Patti Smith. Remnick ruminates about the connections and similarities among many of his subjects--depression and Dylan affected Cohen; Franklin's preacher father's hardships shadowed her; and Guy influenced Jimi Hendrix and Muddy Waters. Springsteen, a troubadour of the United States' forgotten class, is fit but self-conscious about his earned wealth; Pavarotti often took time off for weight-loss regimens; and Dylan and Smith remain mutual supporters. Remnick also contends that Richards eventually lost creativity, although not his performative skills; that McCartney epitomizes the Beatles' inventiveness with melodies and inside jokes; and that Staples meshed with Dylan and Franklin. VERDICT General readers might best savor this anthology of articles, a tribute to the resilience of maturing music performers, by perusing them one by one.--Frederick J. Augustyn Jr.

Portraits of musicians who blossomed anew late in their careers. Remnick, the intellectually nimble editor of the New Yorker, has lately been focusing closely on world politics, but he finds time to profile a number of artists who, having enjoyed early success, "were all grappling, in music and in their own lives, with their diminishing gifts and mortality." The best way to grapple is to maintain "the spirit of sostenuto" that keeps one at work composing, performing, teaching, and spreading the word. "Sometimes, when I go to hear music, I feel like a weekend naturalist of the Anthropocene, feverishly trying to catch a last glimpse of some glorious species." Regarding the venerated Leonard Cohen, Remnick finds the Canadian-born poet, novelist, and later Zen Buddhist priest in a moment of somberness wrought by grief, with one loss in particular the Marianne who had inspired so many of his most famous songs. "The depth of his voice makes Tom Waits sound like Eddie Kendricks," writes Remnick of Cohen's impressive rumble. Keith Richards, having improbably survived to the age of 80, remembers that his first job as a member of the Rolling Stones was to turn audiences on to the blues, work he continues to this day; the improbability of his survival, of course, hinges on his "heroic" consumption of drugs, now a thing of the past. Richards may trade on "roguish charm," while Paul McCartney has assiduously built up a fan base that "is the general population." There's dish here--no love lost between Mavis Staples and Aretha Franklin--and plenty of astute observation, but the central point is that many older artists will go offstage only kicking and screaming--a little diminished, true, but full of fight, as a closing image of Patti Smith belting out "People Have the Power" suggests. A perceptive pleasure for literate music lovers. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

New Yorker editor Remnick (Lenin's Tomb) delves into the lives and art of musical greats in this standout collection of pieces published in the magazine. Remnick's conversations with such luminaries as Patti Smith, Bob Dylan, and Luciano Pavarotti occurred late in the artists' careers, when each was "grappling, in music and in their own lives, with their diminishing gifts and mortality," though the drive to create never abated. "How the Light Gets In," published a month before Leonard Cohen's 2016 death, explores the so-called godfather of gloom's personal and artistic particularities, from his reluctant, sometimes anxiety-ridden relationship with performing to his religious devotions (a lifelong "spiritual seeker," Cohen practiced Judaism, but spent years in a Zen monastery). "Soul Survivor" traces Aretha Franklin's gospel roots, while "We Are Alive" probes the "darker currents" of Bruce Springsteen's psyche and how they've fueled his creative drive: "you cannot underestimate the fine power of self-loathing," says Springsteen, who also speaks of a "need to remake myself, my town, my audience--the desire for renewal." Remnick's close observational details add texture, but what's most remarkable is his ability to give due at once to the artists' larger-than-life musical legacies and their all too human fallibilities. Music fans will revel in this peek behind the curtain. (May)

Remnick, New Yorker editor and Pulitzer Prize--winner, traces his love for music back to his father who made sure his sons saw the greats of the time perform. Remnick continues that family tradition in this gathering of exceptionally vivid and melodic profiles of musicians late in life. Written over the past three decades, these are keenly observed, deeply felt, and judiciously detailed encounters of genuine communion mixing interviews, biography, and analysis, all lyrically and radiantly composed. The opening essay about Leonard Cohen establishes Remnick's sensitivity to how musicians feel about reaching an advanced age as they look back while still creating and performing. There's a bittersweet quality to Remnick's perceptions of these legendary figures. He offers arresting insights into Luciano Pavarotti, Aretha Franklin, and Buddy Guy; a funny and lacerating portrait of Keith Richards, fresh takes on Paul McCartney, Mavis Staples, Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan, and Patti Smith. The most surprising profile, "The Bird Watcher," tells the mesmerizing story of radio host and "Talmudic" Charlie Parker fanatic Phil Schaap. There is acuity here, bemusement, tenderness, and gratitude.