BOOK REVIEW: “I Like People That Can’t Sing”

Kevin Avery’s I Like People That Can’t Sing is a great gift to fans of songwriting and storytelling. At its heart are two previously unpublished 1991 interviews conducted by the late, legendary rock critic Paul Nelson with none other than Leonard Cohen and Lucinda Williams. Set during a time when both artists were grappling with their record labels and searching for creative clarity, these intimate conversations offer rare insight into the minds of two of music’s most revered voices.

In a world that often expects songwriters to bleed for their art, Williams pushes back against that stereotype, saying, “I’m trying to dispel the myth … that you have to be miserable and suffering … to be able to write.” Cohen, with his usual blend of grace and gravity, discusses his own more meditative approach to songwriting: “I’ve always admired the people who could write great songs in the back of taxicabs like Hank Williams. I was never one of those guys.” The contrast between the two artists—Cohen’s quiet introspection and Williams’ gritty realism—makes for a fascinating read.

The book balances sharp intellect with emotional rawness. Williams shares stories of family tensions and the isolation that can come with being a fiercely independent artist. Cohen opens up about personal heartbreak, his relationship with depression, and the spiritual weight behind many of his lyrics. The result is part deep-dive music journalism, part therapy session, and entirely compelling.

Avery, who also edited Nelson’s earlier collected works, lets these conversations breathe. He honors Nelson’s style and intent while giving readers enough framing to understand the significance of each exchange. The book begins with a heartfelt foreword from Suzanne Vega, who reflects on her friendships with both Cohen and Nelson, setting a reflective tone for the pages to come.

What makes I Like People That Can’t Sing especially meaningful is how relevant these decades-old interviews feel today. For Nashville’s thriving community of songwriters and artists, the book is an inspiration — a reminder that even icons like Cohen and Williams wrestled with doubt, expectation, and the desire to make something true.

Whether you’re a lifelong fan of Cohen’s poetry, a disciple of Williams’ southern gothic honesty, or simply a lover of great songwriting, this book delivers. It’s not flashy or loud, but it’s deeply human — a quiet reminder of why music matters.

Highly recommended. I Like People That Can’t Sing is available now wherever books are sold.

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