I expect previews at a movie, and liner notes inside album covers seem polite and informational and approachable on one’s own terms, but I don’t enjoy prefaces, on the whole. I feel they’re somewhat jarring.
There is a legitimacy to the preface which I never feel comfortable ignoring, because someone read this book before I did and they aren’t merely offering a critique but a fully developed analysis that was deemed important enough by the publisher of the book to tell you something you NEED TO KNOW BEFORE you read the book yourself.
Skip them? But what if they really are a map through which the subtle genius of the author is fully realized, like knowledge of Classic Italian when enjoying opera or waiting all that time to let the wine breathe (or whatever)? At best they offer some perspective, but most seem to me like drunken apartment roommates of a date I’m waiting at the door for. “Are you guys going out? You are? Really? Well I gotta tell you couple of things you definitely gonna wanna know…”
This, is not a preface. Clearly, it is a pause, once again, between seasons of this column, yet it is not an analysis or require any spoiler alert. Instead it serves as a Playbill of the next season’s theme; I am going to create something, something musical (but not a musical! I heard some eyebrows arching and hearts skipping beats. Not. A Musical. I pinky swear.).
It will take me many weeks (well, hopefully less than 15) to finish, and at the end I will premiere it here and hopefully it will mean more to you because you will have BEEN THERE (or here) when it happens (or is happening).
There will be stories, and hopefully quasi-elegant quipping, and I do not know exactly how it will turn out in the end, but I’ve been working on it for about 35 years. Most of you have experience with long term projects; many which have now created a smaller projects of their own.
Look, I know you’re busy with the new year, everything’s crazy after the holidays, totally understand, and I appreciate you dropping by. But let’s meet back here next week. I can’t promise to soothe your Dry January (or my own) but 35 years ago I thought I had something to say and I think it’s probably time to say it.
But not sing it… that’s totally out. You’re absolutely safe. Promise.
So, Forewards.