This illuminating collection of essays has emerged from the annual Experience Music Project Pop Conference, previously covered by the volume ‘These Magic Moments’ in this very journal (Popular Music, Vol. 24/3, 2005). The EMP project is an annual conference run by journalist Eric Weisbard, where musicians, journalists, artists as well as academics contribute on an equal footing. Rather than stating that movements are the impetus behind musical inspiration, Weisbard's collection emphasises the effect that idiosyncratic obsessions and individual wilfulness in a given moment in history can have on the progression of popular music. In his introduction, the editor refers to the confined nature of genre terms like folk, jazz, etc. In this sense, this book is very of its time: genre splicing is evident in the indie rock world (for example, the current San Francisco group Deerhoof's recent Friend Opportunity album mixed elements of soundtrack music, twee pop and 1970s-style progressive rock like Yes) as well as the poppiest of the pop (Britney Spear's 2007 album Blackout contains a dubstep-influenced track entitled Freakshow).

The key here is crossover, that is the interaction between genres and even media, the elimination of rigid boundaries and a recognition of the multi-faceted background to different forms of music. A good example of this is discussed in Listen Again's 9th essay, ‘Ghetto Brother Power’. In this piece, Jeff Chang presents an interview with Benjamin Melendez, a 1970s' leader of the New York-based Ghetto Brothers gang who also lead the gang's band. He talks of their absorption of as much Santana, Hendrix and the Beatles as possible, as well as soul and funk singles, producing a music which is a mélange of sounds foreshadowing the existence of hip-hop.

The ‘moments’ analysed in this volume are heterogeneous, varying from W.T Lhamon's opening piece on the subversive use by early twentieth-century African-American minstrels of blackface, to the style of presenting on a late-night regional TV horror show, to the significance of a single obsessive blues record collector. The phenomenon of disco polo, a Polish-specific form of bombastic club music is examined; the significance of the E chord in popular and classical music by David Brackett combines interview extracts and a hearty dose of music theory. The Caribbean origins of the ubiquitous rock classic Louie, Louie is explored by Ned Sublette, and the staid and conservative Western movie background to the oft-sampled (in rap) tune Apache is brought to light by Michaelangelo Matos. Re-assessing previously held critical opinion is another common thread. Holly George Warren praises the forgotten artistry of country singer-songwriter Bobby Gentry throughout her recording career; Steve Waksman delves into the concealed meaning of the ostentatious presentation used by 1970s' arena rock stars Grand Funk Railroad, and Jason King's account of the subversive smoothness of Roberta Flack's sound questions critical assumptions of her work as being ‘safe’.

Yet the eclecticism of the collection is in its favour – it is refreshing to read such a broad array of music analyses. Despite differences in method – some essays are very personalised, other rely on ample academic references, others on interviews, etc. – the pieces collected are always, at the very least, compelling and readable. Common threads can be observed between different pieces, but individual essays can be read as standalone moments in themselves, almost like the fix of a good pop song (minus the toe tapping).

There are some fascinating stories. Marybeth Hamilton recounts the life of James McKune, an obsessive record collector from Williamsburg, USA whose single-minded devotion to the blues resulted in the preservation and future popularity of the likes of the 1920s' and 1930s' bluesman Charlie Patton, amongst others. Hamilton refers to the ‘pioneering brilliance of his taste in the blues’ (p. 29): despite his life being a catalogue of poverty and turmoil over his closet homosexuality, his collector's spirit helped country blues to live on. The emphasis here is on the collector and how his ‘moment’ fostered a little-heard form of music: Hamilton was effectively a promoter of the form, simply through his fan enthusiasm.

Another highlight is editor Weisbard's own essay on Buddy Holocaust,collegiate singer-songwriter Bill Tate, who adopted a virulently right-wing persona and is seen as a forerunner of an ‘alternative’ folk music. In this postmodern subgenre in modern terms, the audience is led to believe in the inauthenticity of the performer, in contrast to the traditionally held conception of the folkie as pure and true, such as the early 1960s' Bob Dylan mould. This is not to mention going against the de rigeur left-wing stance of totemic folk singers like Dylan's contemporary Phil Ochs. Weisbard argues that Buddy Holocaust's performances are in a state of limbo: too convincing in his reactionary zeal when he sings a song called ‘We Will Retake Saigon’, his personal life is simultaneously psychologically turbulent, leading to his (apparent) suicide. Weisbard contemplates the excessive nihilism which artists can fall into, and questions if such transformation is morally worthwhile. He concludes that it is somehow representative of the absurd transformative power of rock music which can be excessive and over the top while coincidentally all too real.

David Thomas, frontman of the US post-punk band Pere Ubu, argues for the first authentic punk movement emerging on regional US television in the mid-1960s. Focusing on Ghoulardi (real name Ernie Anderson), the presenter of a Cleveland late-night horror show, Thomas argues that Ghoulardi's spirit of subversion was essentially as transgressive as punk. He shows how such on-air tactics as repeating the phrase, ‘What me worry?’ persistently for ten minutes at a time; setting off homemade explosives on air; and inserting drop-ins of audio and pictures selected seemingly at random, were unique aspects of Ghoulardi's show. Moreover, Ghoulardi used his radio platform to rail against some of the inanities of popular culture and television, encouraging people across the region to question authority, and helping spawn a punk scene in Cleveland that in the late-1970s rivalled that of New York.

Other essays in the volume, however, do not fare so well. Lavinia Greenlaw's essay on gender identity and scene/ punk conformity is too personal and confessional, although it works as a nice vignette. Likewise, Drew Daniel's piece on performing in character as Darby Crash, lead singer of old-school LA punk band The Germs, is quirky but a little slight. And Greil Marcus makes the error of getting the Holy Modal Rounder's name wrong, albeit in an otherwise illuminating essay on the connection between punk and old blues. Still, the breadth and scope of this collection is worthy of recommendation – the essays are thought provoking academically while transmitting a real passion for music that both serious fan and student alike will connect with.