If you're a die-hard fan of Rolling Stone magazine, you know Rob Sheffield: one of the main contributing editors to the magazine; brutally honest music critic; guy who seems to know every song ever written in the history of the business. His column, "Pop Life," is a scream, and Sheffield tackles everything from Tila Tequila to Tony Soprano to that time when R. Kelly was "Trapped in the Closet." Today he is one of the industry's leading music journalists. He's been on MTV and VH1. He's been in a limo with Britney, an elevator with Madonna, a tour bus with Linkin Park.
Here's what you might not know about Rob: He graduated with a doctorate from U.Va's English department in the early 1990s. And, he may be one of the most down-to-earth music elitists on the planet.
Last week Sheffield paid a visit to the New Dominion Bookshop to read from his book, Love is a Mix Tape: Life and Loss, One Song at a Time. Charlottesville friends and fans came downtown to hear an excerpt and marvel at how Sheffield, pop culture guru, still wears Air Jordan pumps (circa early '90s).
Sheffield looks more like an English major than a rock and roll critic. His voice sounds like it should be leading a discussion about lyric poetry. He carries himself with the confidence of a first-year. He wears clothes that his grandmother bought him. (He revealed this to us when we asked about his Guinness polo shirt.)
This is what makes Sheffield such a paradoxical and interesting celebrity. When you read a review by Sheffield and he bashes a CD, you really believe him. He's become an authoritative voice in pop culture, not only because of his ultra-smooth and deliciously witty writing, but also because of his non-discrimination policy against any genre of music.
This disconnect between Sheffield the rock critic and Rob the English major can be found between the pages of his delightful book. Published in 2007, Love is a Mix Tape is a tribute to Sheffield's first loves: music from the '90s and Renée Crist, his first wife who died tragically after only five years of marriage. In the book, it's Rob who speaks with a painfully romantic voice, only giving Sheffield the critic a few moments here and there.
Each chapter begins with a mix tape track listing from different periods in Sheffield's life. The tapes go as far back as 1979, and they become a soundtrack to his youth: tapes he made for school dances, tapes he took with him to summer camp, tapes he made for his first girlfriend, tapes he listened to when he first moved to Charlottesville. Every tape tells a story, every song has a reason for being on the tape.
Sheffield chronicles his relationship with Renée through these tapes. His description of Renée, coupled with the track lists, give you a real feel for early-90s Charlottesville, fishnet stockings and all. Sheffield's Charlottesville was alive with up-and-coming bands, constantly pumping through AM radio stations, which Sheffield and Renée blasted while driving the back roads along the Blue Ridge Mountains.
And those chapters are the best in the book. Sheffield brings Renée to life with his uncharacteristically romantic writing. You won't find Sheffield's biting wit or authoritative voice here. The writing is unbelievably human and vulnerable, just like Rob in the midst of his Charlottesville romance. At times it borders cliché, especially in his repetition of Renée as a free-spirited, powerful Southern girl (show don't tell, Rob!). But moments like these actually bring Sheffield to life as well. He's not just the guy who claimed (no, stated) that Jay-Z's "Roc Boys" is the No. 1 song of 2007. He's Rob: U.Va. grad, Wallace Stevens' fan who knows a thing or two about music.
Sheffield only read one section from the book, but luckily, it was our favorite. He read about driving with Renée, singing the Mamas & the Papas, Renée's red hair flapping in the wind. Fans asked Sheffield whether he still makes mix tapes -- doesn't he have an iPod? What about meeting Britney? Sheffield smiled and showed everyone how to pump up his 90s-era Air Jordans. We couldn't believe it.