roller coasters have inclines and boxers have fists

Pitchfork's summer reading list includes the new collection from rock critic Frank Kogan, Real Punks Don't Wear Black:

What sets Kogan apart is his deep, sincere, wildly enthusiastic embrace of (scare-quote alert) "crap." L'Trimm and Teena Marie and Toby Keith and Spoonie Gee and Sophie B. Hawkins get the same obsessive rave-treatment as the Rolling Stones or Bob Dylan or Lifter Puller, whose greatness Kogan documented before just about anyone else. Kogan is also as likely to dote on fan-magazine letters from teenage girls as on actual lyrics and he actively despises what he calls the "PBS path" of indie rock, the canon-building impulse that flattens out tangles and turns consensus into accepted truth. But it's not a pose: If you doubt Kogan loves L'Trimm with all his heart, the spun-out joy in his writing should be enough to dispel any such foolishness.
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