COVID Re-Read: The Love You Make by Peter Brown and Steven Gaines

So...what's new?

Yeah, I thought we'd be done with this mess by now, too. I thought 2016 had been my personal nadir, but it appears 2020 continues to ask me to hold its beer. Sometimes, though, I feel it's not my place to complain. Compared to other people, I'm not doing badly, but there are days it feels my mind and body are functioning at the bare minimum. Those days, I can't even pick up a book.

I have a healthy TBR stack meant alone for this blog, and I will finish it. To rediscover my reading groove, I gathered several titles I'd enjoyed in my youth, thinking the nostalgic factor might revive my spirits. Word of warning: if you attempt this yourself you may come away more discouraged.

A few novels I'd treasured in college...the adult me abhors. On the upside, my Carrie Fisher re-read has strengthened my appreciation for her work. In between, the Beatles tell-all The Love You Make sits.

I chose this as part of my re-read because it was the first Beatles book I ever read. It was also one of the first "adult" books I checked out of my local library, and a rather hefty tome in my eyes. I was in high school, and my classmates were either metal-heads or into Hank, Jr. -- technically, I lived in "the sticks." I listened to hippie music, and even teachers razzed me about it. Well, I have a blog with close to 100 book reviews of mostly classic rock. I guess I showed them!

Anyway, Beatles. Peter Brown had introduced my virgin eyes to the seamy underbelly of the Fab myth. I took my time with this book, imprinting the stories of rutting in filthy Hamburg toilets, toking with Dylan, meditating in their own stench while in India, and drugs fights Yoko and the clap. Decades after reading this, I could still recall passages, something not necessarily achieved with other Beatles books.

Does that mean I think this is the best of all the Beatles books? No. Some maintain Brown isn't 100% truthful, some accuse this book of being too depressing and focusing on the negative. I realize the negative is not the place to be in 2020, but high school me went into The Love You Make expecting a story. She got it. In re-reading it, she's still blown away when she's reminded of the monetary losses, the exhaustion, and the infighting these men endured when all they wanted to do was have a good time.

They worked. For them, in the end, it paid off. We still talk about The Beatles.

Be aware the stories are raw -- it's not all yellow submarines and marmalade skies. In fact, the book begins with a story some will say is cruel, of how Cynthia Lennon returned home from a vacation to find her husband with the woman who would become his next wife. While Brown was part of the Beatles' inner circle as an employee he was also close with the band, particularly John. I will always wonder why he chose that particular moment to launch the story. Many like pointing to John's relationship with Yoko as the beginning of the end, though it's not really true. My guess is Brown wanted to start shocking people right off the bat, unfortunately at Cynthia's expense.

So, I won't rank this as the definitive Beatles book as I may not have read it yet, but I will say if you have never read a Beatles biography this may interest you. 

Rating: C

Runnin' With the Devil by Noel E. Monk

I asked for one thing for my 13th birthday, a copy of Van Halen's 1984. Until that album's release I wasn't a fan; I was drawn toward them when this particular album (and MTV) brought them deeper into the mainstream. I knew die-hard VH fans in school. One classmate owned a Velcro wallet with their logo, as though that certified his admiration. Me, I was caught up in the flotsam when Jump exploded and I figured this album was a good place to build a collection.

I didn't expect to get the album, so I was surprised to unwrap it, even more so when my Catholic father insisted we play the whole thing. Understand that my father was into Roy Orbison and Buck Owens, and I had no idea what other songs were featured on this record. It could have been Jump, Panama, and six songs about "doing it." But he liked Jump - the Chicago Cubs had adopted it as their intro music that summer, so we heard the song often. Days after learning of Eddie Van Halen's untimely departure, I'm reminded of sitting with my dad listening to Van Halen - a sweet and surreal memory given they left in the same year.

Since Eddie's death we're hearing all sorts of stories about him. Not being a student of Van Halen (yes, I've read two other books, but don't ask my COVID-addled brain to recall the content), I was surprised to hear of the moments of generosity toward fans and especially the bullying he and Alex suffered in high school. One has to wonder how many of those people would tell their children and co-workers, "Yeah, I went to high school with Eddie, we were tight!" Backstage antics, like those recounted in Runnin' With the Devil, present a picture of the band I can understand. Author Monk served first as VH's tour manager, then manager, during the initial Roth era, and published his story in 2017 once a moratorium on telling his side of things expired. His book came to me as part of a group read done in tribute to Eddie. 

As a tribute...well, it isn't. Runnin' is a raw history of Monk's involvement with Van Halen, peppered with a few confessional moments that have led to litigation if secrets spilled earlier. Mostly, though, the book talks about nailing bootleg shirt vendors, how much the band liked alcohol and drugs, and how Monk basically babysat a gaggle of badly behaving man-children. Most chapters end with an ominous prediction of the end, and in Monk's defense the band did him dirty. You read of Eddie's benevolence in giving his time to the Thriller album then in nearly the same breath cutting Michael Anthony out of the money, and I don't know what to say about his character. I imagine there was more going on behind the scenes, but the book doesn't reveal it.

I would have liked to read more about the band in the studio, and while Monk stresses most of the Roth-era albums were recorded in short time, that creative process is lost among tour stories, Roth's ego, and the brothers' drinking. There's entertainment value here, yes, but nothing I hadn't expected to read.

Rating: C

Books by Drummers: Chris Frantz and Woody Woodmansey

Thanks to the coronvirus lockdown, I've nearly hit my goal of 50 books in 2020 before the halfway mark. It so happened I had two memoirs by well-known drummers come up back-to-back in my book queue, so here they are:

Remain in Love: Talking Heads, Tom Tom Club, Tina by Chris Frantz

My initial reaction on finishing Chris Frantz's memoir came as a wave of relief, a feeling of happiness for having read a story steeped mainly in positivity while we continue to ride out COVID. Coming off books weighed down by heartbreaks (Open Book) and heroin (Slowhand), I was ready for something to lift me. I figured I couldn't go wrong with the story of a co-founder of an awesome band who's still in love with his awesome co-founder wife after forty-plus years.

This is not to say you're getting 400 pages of unicorns and gummy bears in Remain In Love. While Frantz gives a straightforward and easygoing voice to his memoir, there's an underlying restraint in the passages that discuss the speed bumps in his journey - about 90% of which involve David Byrne (Johnny Ramone makes up some of the difference). Frantz's life is quite a learning experience, especially for those intent on pursuing a career in music. Though I went into Remain in Love knowing next to nothing about the band (and Frantz emphasizes here that what books exists aren't wholly accurate - par for the course), I suspected I'd find some history of "us versus him" when recounting work with Byrne. That Frantz is able to handle conflicts with song ownership and contracts with calm is very admirable, and even in his writing he doesn't paint pictures of villains.

Remain in Love is a fun history of the Talking Heads, Frantz and Weymouth's long relationship and their Tom Tom Club projects. It is bit of a non-linear story, so be warned if that rankles. The highlight for me was Frantz's steel-trap recall of the Heads' European tour with the Ramones early in their career, a micro-history within the era of CBGB, early MTV, and a band that straddled rock and punk so well. If you're a fan, you'll come away from Remain in Love with a smile and a valuable lesson: listen to the woman in your group.

Rating: B

Spiders From Mars: My Life With Bowie by Woody Woodmansey

I picked up Spiders From Mars for two reasons. One: I've yet to review a David Bowie biography or related work, and this one was readily available at my library. Which brings us to the second reason: before the libraries went into lockdown I grabbed all my holds and some extras the night before. Spiders made the cut because the other books were not rock-related, and I hoped to review a few titles while staying at home. I feel I've done right by this blog over the last few months, so let's talk about spiders.

Rather, drummers. Spiders' full title is somewhat of a misnomer. Bowie's there in the title, because of course Mick "Woody" Woodmansey worked as his drummer over four pivotal albums and his breakthrough Ziggy Stardust tour. Bowie is not the complete story, however, nor the focus. Woodmansey's early small-town life and struggle to work post-Bowie take up good portions of the book as well, stories that parallel the memoir of another drummer reviewed here: Dennis Bryon.

The despair of a future in a small town with no opportunities, the discovery of music as a means to escape it, the serendipitous introduction to people who set the wheels in motion... Spiders details the union with Bowie and early days at the now legendary Haddon Hall. Yet, there's nothing in Woodmansey's voice that comes off as salacious. If you're looking for stories of Bowie banging people of various genders on coffee tables or sidewalks, while rolling in a veneer of coke, this isn't the book. Granted, Bowie isn't drawn as a saint here, but Woodmansey's narrative of whatever conflicts he endured with the singer is diplomatic.

There is a graphic novel about this era of Bowie's life called Haddon Hall that I'd like to read, to compare Woodmansey's experience.

Rating: B

Slowhand: The Life and Music of Eric Clapton by Philip Norman

Some books challenge me when it comes time to review. One I face more often than others is grading the subject as opposed to grading the book itself. Books have the ability to change minds - a person may read the Bible or the witness of a saint and experience a spiritual awakening. A meat lover may read a book on veganism and feel inspired to change their diet. In the near decade since starting this blog, my opinions of certain people have altered thanks to these books.

Books have the power to inspire, shake people to the core, and change belief systems. When I picked up Slowhand a month before the lockdown began I wondered if such lightning would strike. After reading his ex-wife Pattie Boyd's memoir, every consequent mention of Eric Clapton spurred a fantasy of him being kicked in the balls repeatedly until he passed out.

Yeh, I'm not what you'd call a fan. I'm not saying he's not a good musician and not influential, but Clapton's history of treating women like garbage doesn't endear me to him. I will add, too, my opinions of other artists reviewed here have dimmed over time (cough*Hari) - thank you, books. As Philip Norman is one biographer I like to read, I wanted to see a neutral take on Clapton's life and see about a possible change of heart.

Six days and 400-odd pages later, I still want to kick Clapton in the privates. Yet, I also feel bad for him some respects...a bit. Norman's presentation of Clapton's story doesn't sanitize his reputation, nor does it vilify him. Slowhand spans from Clapton's illegitimate birth in Surrey on to a summarized career denouement in the early 00s. Clapton's early, slow rise to celebrity - colored by strained relationships with peers, unresolved familial strife, and drugs - through the "Tears in Heaven" climax comprise the meat of the book. Norman seems to favor gossipy history over details of Clapton's craft, however. You'll learn about a phenomenon coined the "Clapton Luck," which blesses the bio's subject every time he ends up in a sticky situation, be it a near-miss drug bust or most of his sexual liaisons that don't result in kids or crabs. In actuality, it may be more white privilege or the people around Clapton who spoiled/enabled him, but sure, let's go with luck.

Of the Norman-penned bios I've read, I wouldn't rank this one the highest. I still intend to read his Jagger book, so we'll see where that one falls in rank.

Rating: B- 

Open Book by Jessica Simpson

I debated whether or not to add a review of Open Book to this blog. On one hand, the majority of titles covered here concern artists of the early (I define as the 1950s-60s), mid (70s) and late (80s) classic rock eras. I never set out to limit the blog to a specific time frame - it just happens the majority of books I find are quasi-historical. Until this point, the most "recent" artist discussed here was Amy Winehouse, who isn't necessarily classified as rock. Of course, I've reviewed Sinatra bios here, too. I'm like the Hall of Fame in some respects, reaching toward the fringes when the mood suits. If they can induct ABBA, why shouldn't I read a book about them?

We're talking about Jessica Simpson, though. The book came recommended to me via Twitter, but I wasn't going to review it here at first because I hadn't realized she started out as a pop singer. I knew she acted. I knew she had a reality show, but I had thought the show had been built on her fame as an actress and her marriage to a singer. That I'm not familiar with her music wasn't a deterrent - I've reviewed books by/about people outside my playlists. If a story appeals I read it, and the timeliness of certain themes in Open Book drew me to place a hold at the library.

One theme, really - how women have to put up with so much bullshit and fight to rise above it. Simpson's journey from Mickey Mouse Club also-ran to owner of a billion-dollar fashion empire (with a few albums in between) displayed shades of "this sounds familiar"...

• Lack of control over the direction of her career - Cyndi Lauper suffered that early on
• Pressure from labels and/or management to sex up the image - remember Heart in the 80s?
• Jealous asshole husband/boyfriend - Nearly every woman mentioned on this blog
• Body image issues/shame fostered by work environment and media snickering - Janis had feelings, too, y'all 
• That vice is a balm - Simpson liked her cocktail but thankfully didn't get into the harder stuff that helped others bulk up the 27 list

Open Book is a confessional and somewhat of a cautionary tale, one I enjoyed reading. It didn't necessarily convert me into a fan; I have my tastes, and they don't align with Simpson's style. Her story, though, pretty much confirms my suspicions of the modern music industry and its treatment of women - one can sense the hurt she experiences as scouts seem to dismiss her in favor of Britney and Christina, like she's the bronze. Reading this book, I got the impression at times there is more to tell. We get bits and pieces in various places, and Simpson's voice spoke to me of a person who tries her damnedest to be good when she'd rather be bad -- as if to prove nice girls don't have to finish last. There's a lot bubbling on the surface, but just when you think you're going deep you're taken to another place in the story.

Though I may never purchase anything from Simpson's clothing line or listen to her music, I can applaud her resilience and ability to move past years of ridicule and emotional abuse and come out a victor. Blaming Simpson for a football team's poor performance, for one... what the fuck? 

Also, J--n M---r is garbage.

Rating: B

Anthem: Rush in the '70s by Martin Popoff

Following friends and family via social feeds, I've seen a divide with regards to seeking comfort during self-isolation. Some people I know who knit, draw, or watch specific TV shows aren't doing so now, though they appear to have more time for it. They reason that they don't wish to associate things they love with a pandemic, and therefore risk losing their affinity for knitting, drawing, etc. once this is over.

Before the pandemic took hold, Neil Peart - drummer and chief lyricist of my favorite band - died of cancer. Many fans failed to find comfort in listening to the music. It served more to remind us of what we lost. I'll admit, too, I'd had a hard time getting through a few songs, much less an entire album the last few months. It's only recently that I've been able to listen to a Rush record in full.

This reluctance, thankfully, didn't extend to reading. After news of Neil's death broke, an online book club organized an impromptu read of his most recent travelogue, Far and Wide: Bring That Horizon To Me (review). More recently, I was offered the opportunity to preview the first in a series of Rush biographies. Journalist Martin Popoff, known for his books on Rush and other groups of the classic rock era, will release Anthem: Rush in the 1970s (Amazon) next month through Neil's publisher, ECW Press.

While the title provides a clear indication of content, Anthem also delivers the pre-history of the Hall of Fame lineup - Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson, and Neil - as it evolved from the basement bands with names known among super-fans (John Rutsey, Lindy Young). Popoff relies heavily on interview content from band members and other personnel, notably manager Ray Danniels and touring crew Howard Ungerleider and Liam Birt - all of whom stayed with Rush for nearly the full span of their career.

Additional insight provided through interviews with family and friends, in particular "the boys'" parents - fan favorites in their own right - bring a fullness to the origin story.

If Anthem has an advantage over other Rush biographies, it's in the band's story as told by the people who lived it. While an avid fan may not discover anything they haven't already learned from the Beyond the Lighted Stage documentary or Popoff's other works, newer and fringe fans may welcome this very detailed introduction. I enjoyed this read, but will admit I'm looking especially forward to part three which presumably covers Rush in the 90s (ECW Press lists the second book as Limelight: Rush in the 80s) as it's the period where I not only discovered the band but don't have as much knowledge.

Rating: B

Idol Reading: Elton John and Leif Garrett

I rather like the tandem review format; it seems many books I read share a common theme, particularly those that aren't about the same subject. These memoirs are by two of the biggest names of the 70s.

Me by Elton John So I have an Elton John story. Sometime in the mid-00s I had a job with a web design firm. One of the firm's clients was an entertainment venue; we handled site updates and support, but a third-party server hosted the site. It came to pass that Elton was scheduled for a special performance there - a big deal since it wasn't a large venue and...well, it's Elton. The venue site was to sell tickets direct, which was important because it meant they'd profit more from those sales than from other vendors. Well, you can guess what happened the day of the sale. Site crashes, go boom. Both of my bosses are away at a meeting to renew a contract with another client, and both decided to turn off their phones because...well, Important Meeting. I'm the girl who answers the phone and never touches the venue client, and on this day I'm answering angry phone calls that are coming every five minutes. It means nothing that the crash is a server issue we cannot control. I'm the only one in the office. It's my problem to solve. For every phone call I make to the server company, I get two back from the client. Tick tock, they're losing ticket sales and people are calling them. When my boss turns on his phone, he discovers dozens of voicemails from me calling him every horrible name that comes to mind. My degree is in English; I know lot of words. Once we manage to get the site fixed the show is sold out. My boss told me later that our contact informed him that due to the botched sale, "Elton is so mad at you." I can't tell you if Elton still bears a grudge. I did learn, while reading Me, that he makes no mention of this incident, so perhaps the hard feelings have softened. Or else, this story isn't worth mentioning in the same tome as Elton's lifelong journey to a good place. Me is a thoughtfully written history rich in insecurities and yearning for acceptance, white powder, and serendipitous fortunes. It's not without a few mysteries that remain so, either - Elton's reluctance to go deep into his brief marriage to Renate Blauel inspires questions, yet ultimately they give way to admiration for the way he protects those memories. I must admit, I came into this book expecting more bravado and brag - attitude to match the costumes - but at the end you meet a person of great generosity and talent who, despite having the love of millions of fans, wants the love of family. The book surprised me and I'm glad I took the time to read it. I'm also sorry about the tickets, even though I really had nothing to do...eh, forget it. Rating: A

Idol Truth: a Memoir by Leif Garrett I should have memories of Leif Garrett, but I don't. It's strange given that, although his tenure as a teen idol was brief, it happened in a time where other names I can recall were elevated. I remember the Cassidy brothers, Andy Gibb, Donny Osmond, and pre-Thriller Michael Jackson, and their music. I remember the blinding gaudiness of 70s variety television, which was Leif's milieu. I just don't remember seeing or hearing much. Garrett wrote Idol Truth, as he explains in the foreword, to talk about what really went down during the handling of his teen idol career, basically negating some of what VH1's Behind the Music told us. Garrett delivers a personal history of minute details in very short paragraphs, and a searing indictment of his management team - people more concerned with profit than his well-being. We can tsk at Garrett's long stretch of drug abuse and womanizing, but considering the lack of authority watching out for the welfare of a child (yes, a person under 18 is a child, and this industry pushed Garrett into situations most adults never experience) may just leave you shuddering. Be aware of a number of content warnings: underage sex, drugs, suicide talk. The brevity of chapters in Idol Truth make Garrett's story read like a long arc of vignettes and you may finish in a day. However, this did make the narrative a bit choppy for me, more so with a number of repetitions in the story. Rating: C

All Hail the Queens

Try as I might to conquer IRL stuff, it gets the best of me. I keep on reading, keep on chiseling away at this site. I read these a while back and let them linger in my mind. They seem to go together; you may want to read them in tandem yourself.

A Song For You: My Life With Whitney Houston by Robyn Crawford I didn't know what to expect going into A Song For You. While I didn't follow Whitney Houston's career, or the tabloid press that hounded her in life and death, I picked up things here and there. I'd heard lesbian rumors, I'd heard her family had her in a metaphorical headlock for much of her career, I heard her death might have been an Illuminati sacrifice (seriously, Google it but don't tell them I sent you). With regards to the first two items, Robyn Crawford uses this opportunity to clear some air, and it's not done in a sordid way. This book reads in a sincere voice, one that almost breaks at the sad parts if you can hear it in your mind. I get that what Robyn felt for Whitney transcended friendship, camaraderie... and her frustration at watching the Houston family's treatment of the singer is palpable. It simmers, but I get the impression she is holding back a greater anger, and perhaps the sordid details people whisper on the Internet. It's like Crawford is caught between wanting to tell the truth and wanting to protect Whitney, even though nothing can touch her anymore, and in the end mourning her inability to prevent a tragic end. Rating: B

God Save the Queens: The Essential History of Women in Hip-Hop by Kathy Iandoli I love that a book like this exists. Iandoli is a journalist with decades of immersion in the hip-hop scene, and the result of her knowledge and access to influential figures in the genre is this comprehensive history. Iandoli traces the timeline of women's involvement in rap from parties in apartment building common rooms to jaw-dropping response records (read: The Roxanne Wars - I hadn't realized there was more than one "Roxanne" out there) to the present day. Iandoli's style is loose and engaging, injected with a touch of humor - a quick jab to readers waiting to "get to the chapter about Nicki Minaj" made me smile - and acknowledgement that the book might not be 100% complete. It may only mean there are still stories to discover, and perhaps a revised edition will appear one day. Rating: A-

The Beautiful Ones by Prince

Oh, where do I even begin?

Don't take that the wrong way, now. The Beautiful Ones is many things. It's a glimpse into the life of one of the most fascinating people of our time. It's a weighty delight, filled with snapshots in muted 70's colors. It's a revelation, a peek at the foundation of what we loved best about Prince.

More than that, it's an attempt at something big, and a sad reminder of mortality. Prince's name is above the title, and his spirit is present here, but one can only wonder what we could have had if he lived long enough to put more of himself into this book.

Prince was to have collaborated with journalist Dan Piepenbring on The Beautiful Ones. In reading Piepenbring's lengthy introduction, we learn that Prince had several handwritten pages and a specific vision for a book. Prince wanted to end racism with it, and in asking Piepenbring to define "racism" he got a textbook answer. Despite that, he agreed to work with the man.

If you were to ask me what racism is, I would say fear. Fear is an amazing motivator that drives one to self-preservation. Fear of poverty, for example, might lead a person to hoard money and buy generic, rent movies from the library and pack lunches. I believe some take it further through aggressive behavior designed to keep certain people from succeeding, if only to maintain one's higher (safe) status. I can't speak for Prince, but maybe he wanted to eliminate that fear through his work, as though to say we can all stand in the same place without worry.

We will never know the true content of this book. What we have is a story in four parts, one of which belongs to Piepenbring. I doubt we'd have seen such a long introduction had Prince lived, and in this intro is the concern that a book without Prince would become nothing more than a collection of things.

That's what we have here, though. It's nice to see the pictures and the original treatment of Purple Rain, but I thought the heart of the book rested in the actual pages Prince wrote, which are presented here as scans of his handwriting and in text. This is a graphic heavy book, best read in print or in a good reading app, and once you pass this section you may be tempted to skim the rest if squinting to read cursive isn't your thing.

I enjoyed what I read, but on the same note I mourned what could have been. That's why I find it challenge to rate The Beautiful Ones. An A for content and especially Prince's contribution and B- for execution, though I can't fault Prince or Piepenbring for that. I don't want to make a habit of not rating books, but in this case (like with Neil Peart's Far and Wide) I'm abstaining.

Far and Wide: Bring That Horizon To Me by Neil Peart

We lost Neil Peart. Several days after the fact, I can think of very little to say about it except, "Fuck."

Since the news broke almost ten days ago, I've read many lovely tributes from fans and close friends, musicians and industry people. There's a sad consensus in all of the eulogies: Peart was a professional in every sense, not necessarily a person who chased fame but acknowledged that much of what he had came from it. Even that wasn't enough to stop death. Rush fans grudgingly accepted the band was done as far as records and tours, but that didn't mean the actual end. I had known there were hopes to see film adaptations of some of Neil's books. Ghost Rider had been optioned at one point, and members of a fan board had Tom Hanks cast in the lead. That was years ago, though. Colin Hanks would be a more logical pick now.

Neil was not as public as his bandmates, and that's okay. In life he slipped away from us after shows; a quick wave and off to the nearest exit to ride away while the rest of us stayed for the outro video. He kept it up until the very last day.

There's a passage in his last travelogue, Far and Wide, that talks a bit of other drummers to whom Peart is compared and listed among best of the best - Dennis Wilson, John Bonham, Keith Moon. Each suffered an untimely end due to different excesses, none of them making it to 40. Rush fans, having followed the exploits of "our boys" for decades, wouldn't expect any of them to meet a tragic fate of the rock and roll variety, but I think it's safe to say nobody expected cancer to fell our drummer.

At 67. Three years after retirement. In the brain. We call him The Professor for a reason, and for cancer to strike him there has quite a cruel edge to it. It fucking sucks.

I've read most of Peart's books; not all are reviewed here. Some I've enjoyed, others I've critiqued. If I had to pick a favorite, it would be one of the Far series. I finished Far and Wide recently as part of a book group read, a spontaneous choice following Peart's death. It's an optimistic book, one that's almost painful to read given the context. Wide collects Peart's road essays covering the final tour, and is laced with wistful memories of roads already traveled and the revelation that he will enjoy the time spent with his young daughter more.

I said this fucking sucks, right? It's not entirely clear how long after the tour Peart learned of his illness, but it's safe to say he spent what should have been his well-earned retirement fighting it. Wide appears to have been produced as a work of promise for a new journey, but I worry it may be looked on more as a bittersweet coda. Like when Charles Schulz died after drawing his last strip.

It also happens that my reading this coincides with my own father's declining health. I was fortunate to have him around longer, but the loss is no less painful for me. A lot of memes circulating my social feeds implore us to not feel sad, but to smile for having breathed the same air as Rush, and having the music. I should feel the same way about my own dad, and perhaps the pain will lighten in time.

For young Olivia, too.

I won't rate this book right now, but I do recommend it.

Anatomy of a Song: The Oral History of 45 Iconic Hits That Changed Rock, R&B and Pop by Marc Myers

If you aspire to write songs, you may look on Anatomy of a Song as part guide and part inspiration. This book is a collection of select columns penned by Marc Myers for The Wall Street Journal, which - if they are produced intact here - feature more input from the songwriters than the columnist. The 45 songs chosen, as noted in the introduction, aren't offered as a "best of" list of popular songs but an assortment from which readers can learn of different processes and perhaps discover a new-to-them artist.

It's definitely an interesting lineup. You'll hop from the harmonious early 60s hit "Chapel of Love" to the Kinks' "You Really Got Me," on down through the decades to land on REM's "Losing My Religion." Depending on your tastes, you'll be drawn to some stories more than others - I paid more attention reading up on Steely Dan, Aerosmith, and other acts toward the end of the rock spectrum. I don't which columns didn't make the cut, but I had few quarrels with the table of contents. I mean, I like Bonnie Raitt fine, but I'm not sure how "Nick of Time" qualifies as a song that changed rock. It certainly changed the course of her career, but maybe that was the point.

Rating: B+

About the Book

Every great song has a fascinating backstory. And here, writer and music historian Marc Myers brings to life five decades of music through oral histories of forty-five era-defining hits woven from interviews with the artists who created them, including such legendary tunes as the Isley Brothers’ Shout, Led Zeppelin’s Whole Lotta Love, Janis Joplin’s Mercedes Benz, and R.E.M’s Losing My Religion.

After receiving his discharge from the army in 1968, John Fogerty did a handstand—and reworked Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony to come up with Proud Mary. Joni Mitchell remembers living in a cave on Crete with the mean old daddy who inspired her 1971 hit Carey. Elvis Costello talks about writing (The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes in ten minutes on the train to Liverpool. And Mick Jagger, Jimmy Page, Rod Stewart, the Clash, Jimmy Cliff, Roger Waters, Stevie Wonder, Keith Richards, Cyndi Lauper, and many other leading artists reveal the emotions, inspirations, and techniques behind their influential works.

Anatomy of a Song is a love letter to the songs that have defined generations of listeners and “a rich history of both the music industry and the baby boomer era” (Los Angeles Times Book Review).

Janis: Her Life and Music by Holly George-Warren

It didn't hit me until reading the acknowledgements section of this biography that Janis Joplin didn't have a long career. Yeah, I know all about the 27 Club, yada yada, but she joined that only after four years of professional work. Three albums in her lifetime, followed by decades of posthumous releases that stand testament to quite a legacy. A good third of the hardcover edition of Janis is notes and the index, indicating that what remains in actual biography is thoroughly detailed.

I like Joplin's work; I have Pearl and a greatest hits album. I liked this book as well. It's the first Joplin bio I've read, and it's written in a loving manner. It's appropriate, I think, and you'll appreciate it given what Joplin endured in her short life. Hers is a story people should know, particularly in this time of questioning gender norms and supporting people in marginalized groups. Knowing Joplin's story helps my appreciation of her music as well; George-Warren shows us a woman who readily credited the people who influenced her (Bessie Smith and Lead Belly for two) and lifted them up through her voice.

She packed a hell of a lot of living in 27 years, too. It's not a life I could live - Joplin is quoted as saying she'd rather check out after an explosive decade than live to be 70 and boring. I'm fine with the latter - it gives me time to read. In a way, I suppose I'm living the quiet part of life Joplin craved at one point.

That aside, I enjoyed Janis for it's objective storytelling and detail. It's a microcosmic history, a nice puzzle piece fitting into the overall 60s scene.

Rating: A

About the Book: Janis Joplin’s first transgressive act was to be a white girl who gained an early sense of the power of the blues, music you could only find on obscure records and in roadhouses along the Texas and Louisiana Gulf Coast. But even before that, she stood out in her conservative oil town. She was a tomboy who was also intellectually curious and artistic. By the time she reached high school, she had drawn the scorn of her peers for her embrace of the Beats and her racially progressive views. Her parents doted on her in many ways, but were ultimately put off by her repeated acts of defiance.

Janis Joplin has passed into legend as a brash, impassioned soul doomed by the pain that produced one of the most extraordinary voices in rock history. But in these pages, Holly George-Warren provides a revelatory and deeply satisfying portrait of a woman who wasn’t all about suffering. Janis was a perfectionist: a passionate, erudite musician who was born with talent but also worked exceptionally hard to develop it. She was a woman who pushed the boundaries of gender and sexuality long before it was socially acceptable. She was a sensitive seeker who wanted to marry and settle down—but couldn’t, or wouldn’t. She was a Texan who yearned to flee Texas but could never quite get away—even after becoming a countercultural icon in San Francisco.

Written by one of the most highly regarded chroniclers of American music history, and based on unprecedented access to Janis Joplin’s family, friends, band mates, archives, and long-lost interviews, Janis is a complex, rewarding portrait of a remarkable artist finally getting her due.