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Visceral, empathetic, profound and affecting, Winwood’s book operates on a number of levels: as a j’accuse of the music industry not only in its failure to safeguard those who operate within in but for the ways it drives them to addiction and self-destruction; as a plea for greater awareness of mental health issues within said industry; as a cautionary tale of how said industry pulls into its destructive orbit associated practitioners, most notably music journalists; as a memoir of personal loss, grief and aftermath; as a threnody for those who didn’t survive; and as a hymn to those who did. Winwood writes with excoriating honesty, never sparing himself even as he skewers corporate greed, workplace bullies, toxic misogynists and internet trolls. ‘Bodies� goes to some pretty dark places (there’s a chapter on the Lostprophets) and it could easily have been an exercise in despair; a trip down the abyss with no return tickets. Instead, it’s a deeply humane and sometimes acerbically witty work, written with fury but also with a whole lot of heart.