Matthew Pitt
Matthew Pitt’s first story collection, Attention Please Now, won the Autumn House Fiction Prize. New work will—in the future—appear in (he knows) The Cincinnati Review, (he hopes) The New Yorker, and (he fears) Tiger Beat.
Articles by Matthew Pitt
Sweet Notes, Not CliffsNotes
My first contact with the Mississippi Grammys came during a trip to Tunica. An area casino had recently hosted the event—an annual spring occurrence since the spring I moved to Mississippi (2007). Didn't I know? Hadn't I heard?
I hadn't. Which shamed me, I admit, a little. Then again, the official Grammy Awards come and go each spring without my knowing, either. As a kid, I followed the Grammys. But they descended into circuitous industry curio around 1989, when Jethro Tull beat Metallica's ...And Justice for All for Best Hard Rock/Metal album. A dozen years later, after Steely Dan vaulted Kid A by Radiohead and Beck's Midnight Vultures (not to mention You're the One and The Marshall Mathers LP) for Album of the Year, I waved my TV remote in surrender.
Besides, Grammy live performances always felt like CliffsNotes of the songs they honored: digestible, meant to be palmed. How can music be palmed?
Magical Madness
Frank Gehry's Gulf Coast tribute to George Ohr is already stirring things up.
