Ernest Zevon is a singer, pianist, drug dealer and user, alcoholic, gambler and a loser. Ironically, gambling is one of those failings where he occasionally wins, although not without cost. He's a combination of just about everyone we've ever met who fell into any one of the above categories. I doubt if any of us has met anyone who ticked all the boxes. Ernest does!
They go on to Carlisle and Glasgow and...
P.C. Dettmann paints life as it is on the road, in Soho and in Newcastle, Glasgow or any place. It's a tough world for fringe players like Ernest and Dettman tells it as it, maybe, is. The story has shades of an English take on Jim Thompson or Gerald Kersh, Derrick Raymond. It's verging on becoming a noir cult classic in years to come - unless some Hollywood guy with 20-20 vision picks up on it.
I say this because the typeface on my copy is so small I practically needed binoculars. But maybe this was just a review copy.
More rock than jazz but I think I'm maybe going to read it again to pick up on some of the bits that may have passed me by.
And, if, like me, you've found this compelling reading, then you'll want to read his next one - Jorja Pearson (the sax player)
Lance.
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