People like to tell stories.
When famous people tell their stories, we all win: The public gets a fascinating, often salacious tale and the celebrity writer gets a big chunk of money.
The pinnacle of this kind of autobiography is the rock memoir, a very popular genre as of late. Rock stars of the sixties and seventies are reaching that age where they want to step back and reflect. Usually that means we get a book.
There are quite a few rock memoirs about to debut this fall. Pete Townshend’s Who I Am will be released on Oct. 8. Neil Young and Rod Stewart have books coming out Sept. 25 and Oct. 23 respectively.
And given the current demand, I’m sure they’ll do well.
The first rock memoir I read was Pattie Boyd’s Wonderful Tonight.
She’s not a musician herself, but as the legendary wife of both George Harrison and Eric Clapton, she knows her stuff.
Boyd was a doe-eyed, blonde-haired, Swinging London model who married Beatle George Harrison in 1966.
She later had an affair with Harrison’s best friend and fellow guitar virtuoso, Eric Clapton. However, Boyd refused to leave Harrison, so Clapton composed the spine-tingling “Layla” for her.
Years passed, drug addictions came and went, and Pattie finally left George for Eric.
While they were together, Clapton, who was a violent alcoholic, wrote her passionate music, but also dragged her through hell. Then, he fathered a child with another woman and that was the end of that.
As my introduction to the world of rock memoirs, Wonderful Tonight was a happy surprise. It’s not particularly well-written — in fact the prose is rather immature — but Boyd’s life is mythical. Readers should prepare for epic romance as well as heavy disillusionment as they learn that beautiful love songs can sometimes come from brutal men.
2010 saw the arrival of Keith Richards’ momentous memoir Life. This raucous tome ripped the genre wide-open. In other words, it was a huge success.
But really, I loved it. Richards is a fascinating, funny guy despite of all those mean Mick Jagger comments. (Even after reading so many books that bash him, I’m still in the Jagger camp.)
But I’m also a die-hard Rolling Stones fan and I love them all.
Some of the other guys have written memoirs too.
Bassist Bill Wyman published Stone Alone back in the 90s. His is very detailed, but it reads like a history textbook.
The exhaustive data he compiled can be simply boring. Also, Wyman fell in love with a thirteen-year-old girl when he was about fifty, and he spends too much of the book trying to explain away that indiscretion.
Mick Jagger hasn’t written one. I hope he never does. Of course I’d read it, but I think it’s better if he just remains a looming figure in everyone else’s autobiography.
And seriously, he’s in nearly all the rock memoirs I’ve read.
Besides, how do you explain yourself if you’re Mick Jagger? I think the answer is that you just don’t.
Speaking of books with Jagger in them, one of my favorite memoirs is that of British singer, Marianne Faithfull.
In the sixties, she was Mick’s scholarly but sexy girlfriend. (Of course she points out that she actually preferred Keith Richards.) Then Faithfull got fed up with all that and left Jagger to be a homeless heroin addict in the seventies. No, really.
After a few transitional years, she reemerged with a weather-beaten voice and the scathing punk album Broken English.
Since then, she’s had a successful career as a singer, writer and performer.
In my opinion, Marianne Faithfull is high priestess of the rock memoir. She has the perfect temperament for it.
She is well-read, thoughtful and even more merciless on herself than she is on other people.
Her books Faithfull and Memories, Dreams, and Reflections are hilarious, haunting reads.
If the female perspective on male-dominated rock ’n’ roll interests you, there are countless other choices.
David Bowie’s wife Angela has a wild memoir called Back Stage Passes. She comes off as somewhat annoying, but for an inside look at the bisexual Bowies in the early years, her book is definitely worth a read.
Another woman’s book I’d really like to try is Ronnie Spector’s Be My Baby. Unfortunately, it’s pretty hard to get a hold of at a reasonable price. I bet it’s crazy though — imagine being married to Phil Spector!
There’s also the groupie take on the sixties and seventies rock scene. The best-known and most essential of these books is probably Pamela Des Barres’ I’m With the Band. It’s juicy, but it’s not my favorite. She’s a talented writer with great stories to tell. I’m just not sure if her experiences were as empowering as she would like to think. Des Barres had relationships with some pretty cool people though.
And then there’s Patti Smith’s Just Kids.
Since Smith was already known as a poet and journalist as well as rock star, my expectations were high.
Luckily, her writing is phenomenal. Her literary voice is strange but utterly compelling. The story of her life with photographer Robert Mapplethorpe is bizarre and beautiful. Even outside of its genre, Just Kids is one of the best books I’ve ever read.
Most recently, I tackled Bob Dylan’s humorously (I think) titled Chronicles Vol. I. Bob Dylan has chronicles!
Anyway, Dylan is a genius and a great writer. But don’t expect many details on the parts of his life you really care about, like that legendary time in the sixties. The book is vague and tantalizing, but boy is it worth it. Besides, Dylan has to leave some stuff for Chronicles II, III and IV.
As for this year’s soon-to-be-released rock memoirs, I’m especially excited for Pete Townshend’s. He seems like a pretty intellectual guy; I bet he knows his way around a book just about as well as a smashed guitar.
