July 24th, 2011
kvitsh
That was the first Piaf I knew about—or thought I knew about, thanks to one of my roommates at NYU in the 1970s—and I resisted the caricatured idol of Existential Ennui at the same time I hunted the punk scene for idols of fatalism and decay whom I could call my own. Holding my nose to Edith Piaf, I bowed to Patti Smith, without realizing that Smith was doing Piaf with a New York accent.
David Hajdu Reviews Carolyn Burke’s “No Regrets: The Life Of Edith Piaf” | The New Republic
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@Kvitsh

Misanthropic wench kicking at the darkness 'till it bleeds daylight. I take pictures and play ukulele.