Michael Corcoran has died. He was a one-of-a-kind music critic for decades here in Austin, a gadfly in the best sense of the word. He knew everybody and everything about everybody. He was a badass that even to be an object of his scorn was somehow special. I saw him at a Shinyribs show in early May but I spoke with him on the phone less than two weeks ago when he called to tell me that he'd heard Jewel Brown was ailing. He was also a scholar: his books "All Over the Map" and "Ghost Notes" are two of the best books ever written about Texas music. I crib from them for Traces of Texas all the time, shamelessly. I told him so and he said "I wouldn't have it any other way." He was just about to finish a third one about Austin music history. It was to be published in early September. His essays on all manner of Texas music were definitive. One of my readers said that, when somebody dies, we lose a library. With Michael's death, we're losing not just a library but a museum.
I am heartbroken. Damn. RIP Corky.