There have
been at least a million rock artist biographies, not quite as many self-penned
but that seems to have been the most current trend: Keef, Mick, Pete, Neil
Young, Clapton, Dylan, Heart, Gregg Allman just to name a few. My friend Jeff
even read Randy Bachman’s (yes THAT Randy Bachman from BTO & Guess Who
fame) and said he quite enjoyed it. My experiences with biogs (especially the
self-penned ones) fall into the In the Be-Careful-What-You-Wish-For category; I’d
love to know what is on the minds’ of these artists but sometimes find extreme disappointment
when what is really on their mind is touting themselves.
I have
always been fascinated with deciphering lyrics, although I really suck at it for
the most part. There are quite a
lengthy list of songs that I didn’t really like until I either:
deciphered the
lyrics myself (Sigmund Freud’s
Impersonation of Albert Einstein in America – Randy Newman)
heard the
artist via interview or articles in Rolling Stone (Waterloo Sunset – The Kinks, The
Royal Scam – Steely Dan) or on the internet
found in liner notes or in
a biography (Wild Horses – The Rolling
Stones).
I am not
sure why this affects me. My take on the songs should be just that – MY take
on the song – not some superimposed image of someone else – even the author. Back
in the day I guess I looked at it all as a kind of mathematical equation to
solve – without infusing personal subjectivity. But I ain’t 17 anymore. Back
then I had the time to devote to such ventures. Today, not so much. Sadly, back
then when I would have had the time to consume all these biographies, the artists
themselves either hadn’t accumulated enough ribald anecdotes or were too drug
or alcohol induced to write them down.
There were a
couple of good tomes released, but mostly they were not penned by the artist
and fell into either a dry chronology of the artist, glorified gossip (No One Here Gets Out Alive) or star
worship (Dave Marsh’s Springsteen bio Glory
Days). More recently, there have been a spate of releases. I have read 3 in
the past several months: Rock & Roll
Doctor – Lowell George by Mark Brend; Gregg Allman’s My Cross to Bear & Pete Townshend’s Who I Am.
First off – Rock & Roll Doctor. I have to thank
my buddy Brad for letting me borrow his copy of the Lowell George book. I have
long been a Feats’ fan and would love to pick up any nuggets about one of my
favorite musicians, taken from us far too soon. Brend’s book is fairly dry. It
does pass on some nice little nuggets: Did you know Lowell George was a member
of The Standells? Sadly he was not an original member, nor did he participate
in the recording of their classic Dirty
Water, but played with the touring band for a year or so. Also, I didn’t
know that Lowell used a socket wrench as his slide device which helped account
for his unique sound. Aside from that, he went into great detail on each album
and the songs, but not really telling me much more than what I already knew as a fan.
Being a HUGE
Who fan and a big fan of Pete’s lyrics in general, I couldn’t wait to read his
autobiography
Who I Am. I was amazed
at his narcissism. I can only imagine what it must be like to be a rock legend;
a true mover and shaker of this music we all love so much. I don’t want to sit
here and simply bad mouth a man who’s work I love, admire and couldn’t fathom
my life without. But c’mon Pete, when you describe anything – a woman, a fellow
artist, friend or compatriot as “brilliant” or “life-changing” or some other
superlative - it begins to diminished the value of the person you are describing.
EVERYONE can’t, by definition, be the BEST. Also, for every effort at humility Pete
attempts, and to his credit he
does try, his failings are mostly rationalized away
as someone else’s fault or bad timing or circumstance. For someone who has the gift with
words that he clearly does, it would have been more enjoyable to me if you
would have given more insight into your writing than into who you bedded down
and why; instead of simply touting his daughters’ successful careers, explain
how it felt to be their father; instead of mentioning repeatedly how much you loved
The Ox explain
why instead of who he was screwing while you were trying to perfect
your art.
As excited
as I was about Townshend’s book, I was totally dubious of Allman’s My Cross to Bear. I have my friend Neal to
thank for changing my mind. We had spoken about it on a phone call one day. He
asked if I had read it yet. I replied that I had not. He said I would like it. I thought of Gregg
in a different light before reading the book – talented singer but more trouble
than he was worth. Fast forward a couple of weeks when I received a copy of
the book Neal bought for me delivered in the mail. Imagine how surprised I was when I couldn‘t put
the book down. Granted, where it would take Pete a page to poetically describe
a particular memory in the manner of Shelley or Keats, Gregg spoke like a
normal guy in a normal voice and describe his memory in a paragraph or less. No
one will confuse his writing style with Norman Mailer. But it suits him
perfectly; a blue-collar guy who wrote in a blue-collar style.
He spoke with
love and (what I perceived to be anyway) real affection for the people in his
life. He explained why. With the notable exception of Dickey Betts, he didn’t blame anyone for any
of his hardships – other than himself. He spoke glowingly as he recalled of the
early days of the Allmans and how he began to allow himself to use alcohol and
narcotics as a crutch. He spoke of some of the women he had been with but
mostly without overplaying his hand with graphic conquest stories. I am surprised how fondly he spoke of Cher, for instance. I learned a
lot about songs that I hadn’t had much call to like for any reason other than
the driving rhythms or stellar playing of the the ABB. Now I am listening to
some of these chestnuts with new ears, a real gift these days.
I suppose I
could go on but, let’s face it, this isn’t the Sunday Times’ Book Review here.
My favorites bios are still: Frank Zappa’s autobiography The Real Frank Zappa Book; Shakey
– Neil Young’s bio by Jimmy McDonough & Joe Jackson’s self-penned - A Cure For Gravity: A Musical Pilgrimage.
If you find any of these they will not disappoint. Gregg's would be in my Top 5, with Ray Davies' X-Ray. I can even let you borrow
them.
