Other Reviews

It’s a tale that’s been told before: young person grows up on the poor end of the avenue with a dream of making it in the music world; works hard; gets knocked down; works even harder; gets a break/makes a connection; career takes off; explosion of fame, fortune, and bad habits followed by a roller coaster of comebacks and nosedives. After a number of chapters of tightrope walking, we end up with either a tragic crash-and-burn or a soul salvation.

Philip S. Bryant’s Stompin’ At The Grand Terrace captures the heart and soul of jazz like no written words have since Jack Kerouac’s On The Road.

The book truly is the story of the path leading to the event as we’re 170 pages into the story before we reach the morning of August 15, 1969. It’s all good reading, though. It doesn’t matter if you’re one of the several million who claim to have rolled in the mud at Woodstock (actual crowd estimates still bounce between 450,000 and 500,000), you’d still have no way of knowing all the amazing events that led up to the most famous 3 days of music the world has ever known. (Digging a series of new wells on Max Yasgur’s farm and laying out 14 miles of water pipe was just one little detail.)