Rolling Stone columnist hits high note with ‘Love is a Mix Tape’

By Jillian Mapes, Assistant Managing Editor

February 11, 2007 | 12:09 p.m.

The Beatles said it first: “All you need is love.” Rob Sheffield, however, got it right: "All you need is love," plus good taste in music. Sheffield chronicles his musically-rooted relationship with deceased wife in “Love is a Mix Tape.”

Although Sheffield might be best known for the pop culture satire of his “Pop Life” column and his Rolling Stone Magazine record reviews, his new memoir captures the romantic side of this rock critic. Sheffield has reason to be emotional, to which the book's full title alludes. “Love is a Mix Tape: Life and Loss, One Song at a Time” is the story of a couple brought together by a love of music and kept alive in spirit only by music after death tears them apart during young adulthood.

Sheffield is an incarnation of Rob Gordon from “High Fidelity;” he lives by the mantra “You are what you listen to.” His wife Renee was “a hell-raising Appalachian punk-rock girl” -- the type of girl who probably wouldn’t be attracted to an introverted, religious audiophile like Sheffield.

Some men use their money to attract women, while others play the role of a lady charmer. Sheffield, on the other hand, uses his seemingly infinite knowledge of music to reel in Renee. “Naturally, I told her the same thing I’d told every other woman I’d ever fallen for: ‘I’ll make you a tape!,’” he said. Their marriage is one cemented by thoughtful mix tapes and hand-holding at rock shows. It is the kind of love that only serious music geeks conjure up in their wildest dreams.

”Love is a Mix Tape” begins by delving into Sheffield’s childhood as “the weird music kid.” Most people know the type -- wore a Beatles tie in his sixth grade picture, proudly covets his parents’ old records. He chronicles his prepubescent days spent making mix tapes for middle school dances and summer camp cabins. Through these primitive tapes Sheffield learns the art of compiling a mix, soon realizing that most people can’t “shake ass to ELO.”

Sheffield does a superior job of building up to the book’s main focus, which is his fleeting romance with the charming, bubbly writer Renee. Like a true journalist, the book’s first chapter serves as Sheffield’s lead, giving an overview of “Love is a Mix Tape” and his late wife. The book’s flow is a chronological snapshot straight from Sheffield’s mind, complete with direct quotes from conversations, circa 1989.

Whether single or taken, this book is the kind of undeniable love story tailor-made for music fans. The author grabs readers by their hearts when describing the intense grief and isolation he felt as a young widower living in lonely Appalachia. This book is a must-read for anyone who knows the pain of losing a love or knows the feeling of being hopelessly enamored with music.

The readers are thinking it, and Sheffield is open enough to admit it -- music kept him alive after Renee passed away suddenly in 1997 from a pulmonary embolism. Music was also a double-edged sword, often dredging up vivid memories of her. Their favorite bands, such as the ‘90s alt-indie staple Pavement, were tainted in his memory, while certain songs were just too painful to enjoy. This is the price Sheffield paid for having a wife with spectacular taste in music.

As evocative as Sheffield proves to be, he is equally hilarious. His humor, however, is the kind that flies right over the heads of non-music buffs. Sheffield really talks up his music chops, ultimately referencing more bands than ever rocked CBGB. Each chapter is named after one of Sheffield’s life-defining mix tapes, even including a track list for readers who want to experience the songs that inspired him.

For such a notable force in rock criticism, Sheffield is not one for music snobbery. He openly admits to a shameless love of 1990s popular music and cheesy pop culture icons, much like that of Chuck Klosterman in his book “Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs.” Both writers speak in a language laden with cultural references and a conversational tone, only with Sheffield’s voice prevailing as more romantic.

Sheffield has no shame in his confessions, even admitting that he’s obsessed with Jackie Kennedy because he can relate to her widowed grieving. He opens his heart to speak of his late wife in a poignantly candid way, saying, "I had no voice to talk with because she was my whole language."

"Love is a Mix Tape" is a tale of love, yes, but it is also one of the all-time best books about rock‘n’roll. As Sheffield notes, love may be a lot of things, but it is, above all, a mix tape -- a damn good compilation at that.

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