I was about to post a semi-howler regarding Eric Adams from a few weeks ago -- only to note that it was corrected the last day or so.
The New Yorker's legendary fact-checking continues -- only retrospectively.
You had to be around at the turn of the ‘60s into the ‘70s to understand how great he was. Johnny Cash singing “Sunday Morning Coming Down”: what honesty; what verbal precision. Kristofferson wrote like a Rhodes scholar who’d worked as a janitor at a Nashville record company office — which was exactly what he was.
The problem was when he started making his own records: he couldn’t sing. But who wouldn’t love to have written “Me and Bobby McGee”? There were other people who could sing it
And if he wanted to be a movie star, well, who wouldn’t have wanted THAT?
(Similarly, I remember, long ago, hearing one of the guys who worked in my law firm's cafeteria "knowledgeably" asserting that Dead Again had a "B-cast". Kenneth Branaugh, Emma Thompson, and Derek Jacobi: REALLY?????????)
Like Ian McKellen. As far as I'm concerned, the best Western actor of his generation. But was he a star before X-Men and Lord of the Rings?
(I was once in a coffee shop where it really chapped my ass to hear some self-appointedly "knowledgeable" Pop Culture Guy at another table loudly bloviate to his [female] companion that Patrick Stewart playing Macbeth was "stunt casting", because as a Pop Culture Guy he wouldn't know that Patrick Stewart was a leading Shakespearean before he was a Star Trek character. Those people make me furious.)
Having delved into my collection, I'm not kicking Bambino out of my CD player tray, either.
Listening to Leonard Cohen after Flamenco is um illuminating. He wasn't bullshitting about that influence.