The only thing more useless than a film critic in a production society is a record critic. Bill Wyman proves this in his cleverly titled article about Neil Young's Sleep With Angels [Hitsville, September 9]. For Wyman, a critic, whose whole basis for writing depends on the work of others, to even allude that Young's past decade of work has been purely for profit is ludicrous!
Neil Young has been kicking it out for almost 30 years. Regardless of his ups and downs he has stood the test of time far better than most of his contemporaries. You can't just piss away a body of an artist's work as pure profit. At least not Neil Young. I'd like to see where Wyman's pet, over reverberated, Johnny Bravo songbird Liz Phair will be in 30 years. I bet money on a Barrington pad.
Perhaps Kurt Cobain was right. He hit that peak of brilliance which he thought he could not sustain. And rather than ending up like Neil Young in a Bill Wyman article, he blew his brains out. From Wyman's recent rants about Neil Young and the Stones, maybe that's what all respectable artists should do. Die before you get bad!
I'll give Bill one thing over Neil. We don't have to pay to read him.