I've been re-reading my favorite parts of Lester Bangs' Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung. He was played by Philip Seymour Hoffman in Almost Famous.
The subtitle is: "The Work of a Legendary Critic, Rock 'n' Roll as Literature and Literature as Rock 'n' Roll."
Bangs was a fantastic writer. On the death of John Lennon, for example: "I can't mourn John Lennon. I didn't know the guy. But I do know that when all is said and done, that's all he was -- a guy. The refusal of his fans to ever let him just be that was finally almost as lethal as his "assassin" (and please, let's have no more talk of this being a "political" killing, and don't call him a "rock-n-roll martyr"). Did you watch the TV specials on Tuesday night? Did you see all those people standing in the street in front of the Dakota apartment where Lennon lived singing "Hey Jude"? What do you think the real -- cynical, sneeringly sarcastic, witheringly witty and iconoclastic -- John Lennon would have said about that? John Lennon at his best despised cheap sentiment and had to learn the hard way that once you've made your mark on history those who can't will be so grateful they'll turn it into a cage for you. Those who choose to falsify their memories -- to pine for a neverland 1960s that never really happened that way in the first place -- insult the retroactive Eden they enshrine."
Bangs had a particular passion for/hatred of/crush on Lou Reed and there is an entire section devoted to his Reed-centric writing. The best is "Let Us Now Praise Famous Death Dwarves, or, How I Slugged It Out with Lou Reed and Stayed Awake" (1975). It is an interview from the Berlin/Metal Machine Music era. He and Reed are so vicious to each other (Reed is described as "a liar, a wasted talent, an artist continually in flux, and a huckster selling pounds of his own flesh"), yet there is, beneath the profane insults and drugs, still this sense of a deep respect. It's a fascinating contradiction and perhaps the best Interview with a Pop Star ever.
Oh, and I love this quote: "Take it from me, Dave. Heaven was Detroit, Michigan. Who woulda thunk it? Eternally yours, Bangs."