The decade covers his life from the junior high age of 13 all the way through him completion of college in 1990. He traces the history of 80's music through the lens of his own life. While visiting his world you will sit at the same table as Paul Westerberg, Debbie Gibson, Jon Bon Jovi, Prince, Lita Ford, Jordan Knight, Richard Butler and David Bowie. In the book, they prove to be the greatest surprise guest band of all time. With them at his side, he breaks bread, spills the beans about his amusing, awkward and utterly heartrending teen experience. But here's the secret; Sheffield endears himself to you in such a way that even though you may be a decade younger, grew up on the opposite coast and can't relate to the 80's, you feel as if you've known him your entire life. His story about driving an ice cream truck in the summer of 1984 ("Purple Rain") will evoke tears from laughter, sum up why high school wrestling goes hand-in-hand with the Rolling Stones "She's So Cold", how memories of "Maneater" extract memories of his sister and how a girl ruined his perfect summer job on a garbage trucks as Bonnie Tyler's "Total Eclipse of the Heart" rides shotgun. He wrestles with what John Hughes meant to a generation while waxing on the Psychedelic Furs "Pretty In Pink" and somehow he manages to warp Roxy Music, Catholicism and Kenny Rogers into one chapter.

Ever since the advent of rock magazines there has been continual debate as to who should receive accolades and who shouldn't. What endears me to Sheffield as a writer is his brash lack of coolness when it comes to admitting loving Chaka Khan or Lita Ford and when you read his gusto for a forgettable pop ditty, he finds a way to elevate it to heights no one deemed possible; much like When In Rome's "The Promise" received because of Napoleon Dynamite. He may write for Rolling Stone, but make no mistake, his love of all music is among the most pure I've ever encountered. Sheffield doesn't believe in "guilty pleasures" and because he attaches significant moments in his life to these songs. In turn, they remind us that we have nothing to be embarrassed about regardless of the artist or genre. It's a thin line walking between discussing music and intertwining your life story into it, but Sheffield does this with sophistication. Neither overpowers the other and by the end of the book, you feel a close connection to Sheffield, his life and the music he spent a decade gorging. I won't lie, in the weeks since reading the book; I've listened to the Replacements "Hold My Life" nearly 20-times. It almost made me unembarrassed from seeing Debbie Gibson in concert (emphasis on the word almost) but regardless, Sheffield has a story here that tops mine.

Sheffield's previous book Love is a Mix Tape may be the greatest book you've never read. Trust me on this, if you haven't read it, get it now. Talking to Girls About Duran Duran may not flow as naturally, but it doesn't have to. It makes you rejoice with glee that you can take out your Debbie Gibson and Tiffany CD's and place them on the shelf next to Guns N' Roses and T-Rex and only be slightly embarrassed. Rich in captivating detail from outfits he wore, to his grandfather's bleeding feet to the torture a bevy of female acquaintances and finally to his youngest sister's obsession with New Kids On the Block; his stories ripple with heartache and sincerity. The prose is stylish and sharp without being highfalutin. He sums up intense emotions and the connections we tie to them which we carry with us forever. Technology and times may change, but the experience of growing up is the same for everyone despite the music and styles of the time. Sheffield wears his heart on his sleeve but because he shares all the minute details with us, it makes him one of us. Anyone can read Talking to Girls About Duran Duran and within a few pages with be fully fluent in the language of Rob Sheffield. It perfectly captures precisely why music is an emotional experience that can't be taught but only experienced.

Anthony Kuzminski is a Chicago based writer and Special Features Editor for the antiMusic Network. His daily writings can be read at The Screen Door. He can be contacted at thescreendoor AT gmail DOT com and can be followed on Twitter