Lester Bangs: "Hey! I'm gonna buy some import albums! I'll get a whore I know to lend me her charge card!"
These “great man” theorists see Lester as self-made and El Cajon actually was a hindrance. Those of us from El Cajon, especially those who knew him well, have a much more nuanced view of Lester’s El Cajon years. And, we definitely see Lester as a product of El Cajon. If you like Lester, you have to like El Cajon because...Lester is El Cajon. He’s an El Cajon kid. He acts like one. He thinks like one.
By Andrew Hamlin, July 24, 2013 | Read full article
Uhelszki started at Creem magazine the same day as Lester Bangs. She’ll talk about those days at Grossmont on Tuesday, October 6.
“He looked like an ‘adult,’ when everybody else looked, well, like members of the MC5 road crew or like slightly demonic hippies. Lester looked like a visiting professor, with neatly trimmed hair and his shined shoes and his over-extended mustache. He was wearing a button-down shirt over a sparkling white undershirt. During his stay, I occasionally spied him actually wearing a suit jacket — he owned one in a Prince of Wales plaid.”
By Andrew Hamlin, Sept. 30, 2015 | Read full article
Security trying to manage the crowd at Altamont Speedway. “I can’t do any more than ask you to keep it together.” Mick again, sounding the conciliatory note. “If we’re all one, let’s show we’re all one!”
Lester had begun writing freelance for a fledgling but already influential newsprint rag called Rolling Stone. “Just a couple days ago I sent a review of Let It Bleed to my editor." And maybe Rolling Stone’ll have a party for the band after the concert, and maybe we’ll get to go, and maybe they’ll introduce us to Mick and Keith, you know, like, ‘This is Lester, he’s the guy who’s reviewing your new album.’ ”
By Roger Anderson, December 14, 1989 Read full article
Bruce Springsteen and Lester Bangs, 1975. Lester returned to town to spend the Christmas of 1973 with Andrea, who had an apartment in El Cajon. It was a festive time, and Lester wore an expensive new sport coat and much cologne from the many Christmas gifts he got from the Creem staff. He had put on so much weight that he looked obese.
Lest anyone think that I have a few bones to pick myself, let me make clear that I wish neither to trash Lester’s personal or literary reputation nor to gild his legend with hyperbole and shaggy-dog stories. I suppose Ed Ward, Greil Marcus, Richard Meltzer, Dave Marsh, John Mendelssohn, Jann Wenner, Robert Christgau, Lou Reed, Debbie Harry, or any number of other people who have known Lester over the years have their own versions of his life story.
By Robert Houghton, July 13, 2000 | Read full article
Life on the rockwrite dole: Disneyland, Jan. ‘72, side trip down from MCA Records convention in Universal City. Lester the Proud on left: Jon Tiven, upstart fanzine creep, right.
One afternoon in ’74 Nick and I met Lester at some ritzy midtown hotel. Though he’d been in the room all of an hour, the smell was like a dog had died there. Consequently, we vetoed his offer to call down for drinks on Creem’s tab, suggesting, to his consternation, that any dump of a bar would be more, uh, whatever. Many of his heterosex liaisons had foundered on the rocks of precisely this issue.
By Richard Meltzer, Dec. 6, 1984 | Read full article
All through these last pieces you seem to curse yourself for having a love affair with death, and what galls me is that you never had any such love affair with that bag of bones.’ You said to me once, “I’ve decided that everyone is obsessed with something. My obsession is music. Most people are obsessed with themselves,” and you gave me a look I’ll never forget. But the fact is you were right, you loved music more than you loved yourself.
By Roger Anderson, Nov. 26, 1987 | Read full article