Robert Forster, who some readers may know as a founding member of The GoBetweens, one of Australia’s most intriguing pop groups, had an entirely different route into music criticism – a simple, unbidden invitation to contribute to The Monthly from its first editor, Christian Ryan – and you can sense this freedom and difference throughout the writing in his first book, The 10 Rules of Rock and Roll. Made up mostly of columns from The Monthly, with a smattering of previously unpublished material, it demonstrates both Ryan’s prescience and Forster’s way with words, though followers of Forster’s lyrics will not be overly surprised to discover that he is an economical, dryly witty and rather idiosyncratic commentator on the world of modern music.

Whether writing about albums, books or concerts, Forster is looking for revelation, the flash of inspiration that has a writer or performer transcending her previous limitations and bounding to the finish line. He writes with an infectious enthusiasm that is nonetheless measured and at times quite arch (his quip about one of Delta Goodrem’s lyrics ‘[making] her sound like a mixing desk’ is priceless). He is good at history and analysis, often combining them effortlessly to provide gorgeous snapshots of how a songwriter got to where he is now, and why it matters. One of his biggest achievements is turning you on to artists you never expected to care for. I have walked away from this book wanting to hear the latest records by Sarah Blasko and Antony and the Johnsons, something no other writer has achieved. The book closes with two affectionate portraits of his GoBetweens colleague Grant McLennan, who passed away in 2006, a lovely essay on one of my favourite albums, Guy Clark’s Old No. 1, and a few tentative, charming pieces of fiction. It’s a well-written, solid selection that wears its intelligence lightly.

The 10 Rules of Rock and Roll is not perfect. Occasionally, Forster’s syntax is lax, and his approach to album reviews can get samey across the spread of the book – there are this many songs, there are a few too many songs for the album, these combinations of instruments are present, these lyrics work well, those lyrics don’t. Some of his best (and funniest) observations come from his concert reviews, where he takes in both the performance and the audience: not many other people would latch onto ‘the moment someone walks on to join [Australian dance act Pnau] dressed as a strawberry’ as a key moment in their trip to rock festival Big Day Out, nor would they correctly gauge both the audience’s response and the structural specificities of Pnau’s music.

But even Forster’s album reviews eventually reveal an odd angle, another way into a record. If anything, he gets better the further he strays from his usual territory, which tends to be either new material from classic artists (Glen Campbell, Neil Diamond, Bob Dylan) or hip indie artists (Bonnie Prince Billy, Bill Callahan, Vampire Weekend). His essay on Delta Goodrem has caused a fair deal of head scratching, but it’s an exceptionally clearsighted piece of prose that opens up new avenues for appreciating an artist many people dismiss as just ‘pop’. (He’s been doing this for a while actually: witness his cover of Heart’s MOR classic ‘Alone’ on his solo album I Had A New York Girlfriend.)

Forster would do well to follow this thread. We need little more exegesis on Dylan, or hip new rock acts, and more intelligent commentary on pop, modern R&B, etc, and on artists sidelined by ‘cultural magnates’ (check his wonderfully generous concert review of Nana Mouskouri for further proof). When Forster limits himself to what he already loves, the writing is satisfying, but he is comfortable in this terrain and risks making pat judgements. I would like to see Forster roam much further, and find ways to think across genres, something sorely lacking in much of today’s music criticism. Like many critics, Forster sometimes gets hung up on rock authenticity, which may explain why he’s not writing much about modern R&B or chart pop. But he should temper his rockist tendencies and get his ears dirty.

Ultimately though, The 10 Rules of Rock and Roll makes for exceptional reading. Forster captures the thrill of hearing a young songwriter break through, and the joy of a senior artist’s giddy return to the world of recorded music. He is great on the highs and lows of being a music fan, and his love for music spills from every page. And for other music critics, there’s something inspiring in Forster’s approach to listening and writing, even when he’s confirming things you’ve always thought, such as the unacknowledged genius of The Monkees, or everything that’s fabulous about The Velvet Underground. And honestly, I can think of few better achievements for a music critic – especially one relatively fresh to the field.