newyorker.com
Over French toast at Ladybird, an East Village vegan place, Marr recalled selecting guitars for his collaborator, Pat Graham, to photograph. He soon realized that “Marr’s Guitars” was going to be more than a coffee-table book for fetishists. It became a musical memoir of his encounters with great guitars that, he said, “turned my daydreams into sound.” Each time he pulled out an instrument, he said, “I remembered what movies I was watching, why I bought it—who I fookin’ was. It all came back.”
I…
about 1 year ago