Lomax receives reverential, if bloodless, treatment in Nolan Porterfield's bio. It is a thorough — though at times stodgy — examination of the avowed Texian's lifelong devotion to unearthing and preserving the people's music. Reviewed by Mike Shea
Folk-song collector John A. Lomax discovered Leadbelly in Louisiana's Angola prison and masterminded the singer-guitarist's 1935 introduction to the world (via New York), and their names have been linked ever since. This biographical tour de force by Charles Wolfe and Kip Lornell pulsates with the confident energy that characterized the singer's performances as the writers trace the volatile folk artist from his East Texas upbringing to his 1949 death in New York's Bellevue Hospital. They take no shortcuts when presenting the complex life of the man who not only composed "Goodnight, Irene" but also committed murder. Reviewed by Mike Shea
How big is Texas' contribution to the world of music? Big enough to overwhelm Dallasite Rick Koster's attempt to contain the sprawl between two covers; his Texas Music (St. Martin's, 1998) falls short of its ambition. Which raises the question: Can any one book possibly hope to encompass Lefty Frizzell, the Butthole Surfers, and Van Cliburn? Perhaps not, but the following is a roundup of books that any music maven should own. Reviewed by Mike Shea
Dave Oliphant claims the definitive (well, the only) treatise on the pervasive influence of Texas' sons and daughters on the jazz world. His crisp, near-scholarly style wisely avoids simple-headed romanticism of his subject. And the interchange of jazz players from project to project seems downright . . . promiscuous. Reviewed by Mike Shea
Philip Norman
Rave On: The Biography of Buddy Holly
Simon and Schuster
The world cried out, "Who capped Holly's teeth?" and noted biographer Philip Norman came to the rescue with this painstakingly researched book that glows with the warmth of a fan's enthusiasm but betrays a singular intelligence. Reviewed by Mike Shea
A mere eleven years after Holly's fatal plane crash, another Texas rock icon went to the great beyond -- but the cultural landscape had changed beyond recognition as evidenced by Alice Echols' revisionist bio. Echols peels away Joplin's tough-mama caricature to reveal a desperate brilliance. The posthumous psychoanalysis is buttressed by fresh interviews that show Janis' intelligence and talent were exceeded only by her insecurity. Reviewed by Mike Shea



