Rock these days seems to be retreating from the sound barrier. The mind-blasting chaos of California-bred acid is still to be heard, and almost everywhere the unmistakable beat goes on. At the same time, though, rock has become more personal, curious and deep, largely through the work of a new breed of solo troubadours who write their own stuff and occasionally deliver it in person. The handy and somewhat disparaging label for this new style of defused, intimate and literate pop is "salon rock." No one in the business, however, puts down the genuine talents of two of its finest practitioners:...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
