If your name is Tim Quirk and you wrote an essay called Endlessly Horny for Wonder and Magic: How Bat Out of Hell Perfectly Captured the Pre-Pubescent American Id (and Nearly Ruined Me for Life) about one of my favorite albums (12 copies and counting, eventhough I prefer the sequel), well, you earned yourself 99 cents.
As for the piece itself: I’ll have to read it again. I’m sure it makes some valid points, but I’m no expert on the pre-puberescent American Id. All I know, is that Bat is a great album—despite even that one song in the middle of side B. Talking about music is like dancing for architecture, and all that: you can do it, but does it really make sense? For Bat, doubly so. Either you get it, or you don’t. And if you do… oh, boy.
- Book>
- Tim Quirk — Endlessly Horny for Wonder and Magic: How Bat Out of Hell Perfectly Captured the Pre-Pubescent American Id (and Nearly Ruined Me for Life)
- First line
- It’s 1977… bleeding into 1978.