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