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Title: II B.S.
Review: is the title of one of Mingus' best and most accomplished songs, and should have been the title for this book. It seems nothing more to me than complete and utter bollocks. Half-truths all the way. After listening to his great music and hearing/reading fascinating and often hilarious anecdotes about this complex man, I was disappointed to read the pathetic bragging of an insecure man. He does not seem to be in touch with any of the other characters in the book, they all seem to be some sort of extention of Mingus - they talk like him and I'm sure Mingus' memory was even more subjective than is usual in an autobiography. Mingus once wrote that he didn't know how to communicate through words, so he used music instead. He should have stuck to that, this book inadvertently ridicules the great composer. To BS, too true...
